It’s billed as the home of Texas-French cuisine. We’ve always had a hard time figuring out exactly what on mother earth that is. But whatever the specifics, it’s served in one of the most garishly opulent steakhouses this side of Trump Tower. Subtle this place is not. Think of it as steakhouse caricature toned down with a Donald coiffure. It boasts a cavernous 25,000 square feet of dining space. That’s a lotta guests (it’ll seat some 900) and a lotta deceased steers to amuse them.

III Forks is gaudy, with a towering golden dome that functions as sort of a meat homing beacon drawing carnivores from the Tollway, from DFW airport—maybe even from other planets. It’s about big: big steaks, big wines, and big checks. It’s got acres of mahogany bar real estate; a second level bar with dining rooms; and a temp-controlled New Orleans-style courtyard with gurgling fountains and a glass roof. Plus white linen tablecloths, antler chandeliers, and gobs of western artwork. Think of it as a cross between a French cathedral and a rodeo bowl where cows are sacred (maybe that’s the Texas-French motif).

Its prime steaks are good: well seasoned and nicely singed. The III Forks menu is divided into the “Fish Market” and the “Beef Market” and every main arrives with duchess potatoes & fresh vegetable sides (fresh creamed corn, sugar snap peas, scallions, and sliced tomatoes, etc). All in all, it’s an unexpected bargain in the big à-la-carte Prime steak hunt.