4 Park Ave.
In New York, age is one of the prerequisites for steakhouse greatness, and it's rare when a brand-new beef-eater palace manages, somehow, to feel grandly, fabulously old. But that's how it feels at Wolfgang's. Maybe it's the antique arched ceiling, which is intricately ribbed with old Guastavino tiles. Maybe it's Wolfgang himself, an old-fashioned front-of-the-room operator, who brings with him four decades of steakhouse knowledge accrued at Peter Luger's, the oldest steakhouse of all. Or maybe it's just the steak, which is brought to the table on sizzling oval platters by fleets of grizzled waiters. The filet is always appropriately buttery. The New York strip has a nice, salty crunch to it, and is supported with the usual array of creamy, fried, cholesterol-laden sides. Everything tastes the way it's supposed to taste at Wolfgang's. In this newfangled era of dining, that's an achievement.