Keens Steakhouse

The meat isn’t first class anymore, especially by the standards of today, but no chophouse in the city (and therefore the country, and, we would argue, the world) has a stronger pedigree than this ancient beefeater on West 36th Street, and few exude a more pleasingly funky sense of old-fashioned charm. With apologies to mutton-chop and New York strip lovers everywhere, the dish to get is the imposing “King’s Cut” rib chop, preferably on a snowy winter’s afternoon, in the pub room, by the gently guttering fire, which will leave you plenty of time for a long afternoon nap.