One of the trademarks at Morton’s—the chain steakhouse epitome of corporate luxe, all plush, dark, and elegant, you know the drill—is the plastic-wrapped beef ritual, wherein your server shows you all the different raw cuts of meat, covered in what looks like Saran Wrap, as you’re ordering. The idea is to let you choose your Prime weapon, although this ritual, at once antiseptic and carnal, tends to make at least one diner at the table squirm. (There’s always someone that loves meat but wants to deny that it ever consisted of living muscle.) But once a steak has been subjected to 1800-degree broiling, any reference to the original source is, be reassured, almost erased. (Double-rib lamb chops, chicken, and Chilean sea bass are among the options for those who still can’t get with the program.)

Rest assured, too, that since steak is why you’re here, it is a quality product, a verity even among those who prefer dry- to wet-aged beef. For sheer flavor, unabashed carnivores might want to consider the “Chicago-Style” bone-in ribeye, more commonly called “cowboy” cut hereabouts, y’all; a massive Porterhouse and a (relatively) diminutive filet “Oskar” with excessive accoutrements bracket the beefy options. Sides, of course, carry out the theme of Lucullan opulence: the jumbo baked Idaho is of dirigible proportions, the asparagus spears resemble javelins…and the desserts are of the double chocolate mousse and “legendary” hot chocolate cake sort. The calorie count will only be exceeded by the bill.