The 100 Best Steakhouses in the United States

Stacks of almond wood line the entryway, and the hearth at the center of this two Michelin star fine dining room has been the point since the place launched as a popup. Chef Richard Lee, a San Francisco native with Eleven Madison Park in his past, cooks open-fire seasonal menus that fold his Chinese-American heritage into Northern California produce. The wine program runs deep into Burgundy. Forbes Five Star, AAA Five Diamond, and a crowd that dresses for the occasion.

Stone crab claws and bone marrow vinaigrette on a classic steakhouse menu is a pretty good summary of what Little River is doing right now. Sunny's leans into the old-meets-new Florida aesthetic hard, and the room hums with a crowd that dressed for it. The steaks come in shareable or individual cuts, the sides include russet potatoes fried in chicken schmaltz, and the martini program landed on Esquire's national list. The New York Times put it on their Restaurant List for 2025.

Cuts of USDA Prime, American Wagyu, and Japanese A5 hang in a visible aging room before they ever reach the grill built into your table. This is a Korean barbecue steakhouse in the Flatiron, dark and moody in the way that only feels intentional when the service is this precise. Staff do the grilling, which sounds like a gimmick until it isn't. Holds a Michelin star and ranks among the World's 101 Best Steak Restaurants. The wine list is quietly serious about value.

A live-fire hearth anchors the open kitchen at this midcentury modern restaurant in San Antonio's Pearl District, where the menu is organized around Texas ingredients and built for sharing, with a dedicated steak section and a Texas-focused wine list. The name nods to the patron saint of farmers, and the sourcing follows through. It holds a Michelin star and landed on the New York Times Restaurant List in 2025.

A shiny gold door opens into a wood-lined steakhouse where a binchōtan robata grill does most of the talking. The team runs a whole-animal butchery program, wet- and dry-aging US Prime and American Wagyu before anything goes near the coals, which explains the queue for the 18-seat chef's counter. Prices are serious. So is the fire. Niku holds a Michelin star.

White tablecloths, glossy wood paneling, and a wine list that earned a spot in Wine Enthusiast's Restaurant Hall of Fame: Pappas Bros. is the kind of old-school steakhouse that doesn't need to update anything. The menu keeps appetizers brief on purpose, saving the appetite for prime, in-house dry-aged cuts seared the right way. Veteran waiters and sommeliers treat everyone the same whether you're ordering a Shiner or a 1947 Petrus.

This is a Wolfgang Puck steakhouse inside the Shoppes at Palazzo, the sort of place where the wagyu comes from Hokkaido and Australia and the check comes from a much higher power. Expect jackets, expense accounts, and a dining room built for closing deals or pretending to. The Japanese beef burger gets you the same pedigree without the second mortgage, and the man himself occasionally works the room.

This is the downtown branch of a Houston steakhouse dynasty, all dark wood, low lights, and the hush of people who have expense accounts. The wine list is built like a library, with a sommelier who can talk you through it without making you feel graded. Expect crab cakes, a dry-aged rib-eye under bearnaise, and a slab of New York-style cheesecake that locals treat as a civic duty. Dress like you're closing a deal.

Lakeside tables at this swanky steakhouse inside Wynn look out over a waterfall and light show, which gives the white-tablecloth setting a slightly surreal edge. The menu hits every chophouse note, but the draw is the beef program: true Japanese Kobe from Hyogo alongside American wagyu, both with the kind of marbling that makes a menu feel like a financial decision. Forbes Four Star and AAA Four Diamonds.

The upstairs dessert room, a separate posh chamber with live piano and house-roasted coffee, tells you everything about how seriously this old-school Tampa steakhouse takes a night out. Suits on the floor, garish vintage décor everywhere, and a wine collection so large it earned a spot in Wine Enthusiast's Hall of Fame. The dry-aged prime steaks are the move, but save room: the bananas Foster upstairs is practically the point.

This is a José Andrés steakhouse inside The Venetian, and the open kitchen is basically a stage for a very large fire. Bone-in wagyu ribeyes get charred there, while the menu also stocks Ibérico ham and an aged-cow beef most steakhouses skip. Caviar comes in single-bite cones, which tells you about the tax bracket. Dress like you're celebrating something, since most tables are.

Chef John Tesar's chophouse inside the Ritz-Carlton Grande Lakes fills a large, dimly lit room done in weathered wood and beachy tones, with an open kitchen in the back and a well-stocked bar up front. Dry-aged steaks share the menu with top-shelf seafood and pastas that take a turn nobody saw coming, cacio e pepe made with ube noodles being the kind of detail that earns the conversation. The cocktail list keeps pace.

Spruce sits in one of San Francisco's quieter money neighborhoods, Sacramento Street, where the locals dress well and never seem to be in a hurry. It's a fine dining room doing Modern American with a California lean, the kind of place where lunch runs to composed salads and sandwiches and dinner quietly shifts registers. The cooking is precise and seasonal without announcing itself, and the California wine list gives you plenty of reasons to linger.

Wolfgang Puck's steakhouse inside the Four Seasons on Wilshire is the kind of room where the banquette seating and the beef grades arrive with equal seriousness. Cuts run from American prime to Australian Wagyu to Japanese A5, and the price of your entrée will make this feel like a consequential evening regardless of what's being celebrated. The crowd tends to be well-dressed and on somebody's expense account.

On the 17th floor of the Four Seasons Orlando, Capa is a Spanish-leaning steakhouse where the view over the resort competes hard with the menu. Michelin one-starred, it spans gambas, sherry-braised mushrooms, and substantial bone-in ribeye, with a pastry program that turns gazpacho into dessert. The setting pushes it toward celebration territory, and the crowd dresses accordingly.

Caesar salad made tableside, prime rib carved from a rolling trolley: Daniel Boulud's French steakhouse in the Flatiron plays its classic moves with full confidence. Leather-paneled bar, walnut floors, soaring ceilings, and servers who materialize exactly when needed. The dry-aged beef comes off an oak wood grill, sauces are French, the Bordeaux list is long, and the expense accounts are ready. Ranked 34th on the World's Best Steak Restaurants list.

The salad arrives spinning in a metal bowl over ice chips, which tells you everything about how this prime rib shop operates. Servers wheel cuts of roast beef tableside and carve thick slabs to order, with mashed potatoes, creamed spinach, and gravy all part of the deal. Ask for the English cut if you want thinner, juicier slices. The martinis have their own reputation. An old-school institution that treats a Tuesday like a special occasion.

Vintage mirrors, cherry wood, and brass gas chandeliers give this Downtown Brooklyn steakhouse an amber glow that makes every Tuesday feel like an occasion. The kitchen draws on the legacy of Edna Lewis, who ran it in the late eighties, so fried chicken and crab cakes share the menu with dry-aged prime beef. Dessert gets taken seriously, which a baked Alaska deserves. It has a spot on the World's Best Steak Restaurants list.

Red curtains separate the bar from the dining room at this Michelin-starred Hollywood steakhouse on Melrose, and the lipstick carpet does the rest of the atmosphere's heavy lifting. Kevin Meehan reimagined Kali as an old-school steakhouse, so Creekstone Farms beef anchors the menu while beef tartare and crème brûlée handle the opening and closing arguments. The loaded potato, baked then fried to order, is not a thing to skip.

The room where the Four Seasons once held court still has that same pull, now under Major Food Group, with tableside presentations arriving like small theatrical productions. The Grill is a fine dining steakhouse running an all-American menu of classics, the kind of place where the suits at the next table never glance at the prices. Grandiose is the right word, and the kitchen leans into it without apology.

A wood-fired hearth anchors this Gold Coast steakhouse, casting the kind of light that makes everyone look like they have somewhere more important to be later. Maple & Ash leans hard into the party-steakhouse genre, with deep leather couches, clubby music, and a photo booth tucked somewhere in the multilevel room. Dry-aged cuts come in generous portions, and the seafood menu holds its own. The bar is a Top 10 U.S. Nominee at the Spirited Awards.

The red leather booths here supposedly inspired scenes in Casino, which tells you most of what you need to know about the vibe. This is an old-school steakhouse off the Strip, the kind that served Sinatra and the Rat Pack and has never felt the need to apologize for it. Thick porterhouse, a baked potato the size of a small child, lobster tail drowning in butter. Time moves differently in wood-paneled rooms like this.

Tyler Florence's steakhouse sits waterfront in the shadow of Chase Center, which sounds like a pre-game stop but is decidedly not. The marble-and-leather room leans into quiet glamour, the kind of place you'd actually dress for. Dry-aged steaks are seared to a deep mahogany, oysters come from a saltwater estuary in the kitchen, and tableside Caesar service arrives without irony. The World's 101 Best Steak Restaurants lists it at number twenty-five.

The dining room at this steakhouse inside Park MGM keeps going longer than you expect, opening into smaller rooms hung with vintage art in a way that feels more Belle Époque supper club than casino corridor. Dry-aged bone-in ribeye is the main event, but the sides pull their weight and the mile-high carrot cake arrives looking like a dare. A proper old-school steakhouse, dark and comfortable, with prices to match.

A chef's counter tucked at the back of a bright, airy downtown room sets the tone at this fine dining steakhouse: serious proteins from a serious grill, with raw bar snacks and house-made pasta filling the space in between. The Sonoma duck has made Arizona's top dishes list, and the chef has drawn James Beard semifinalist attention twice. Share the big cuts, or let the tasting menu make the decisions for you.

The dry-aged beef is displayed behind glass like jewelry, which tells you exactly where you are: a Korean steakhouse inside the Venetian that takes itself seriously without apologizing for it. The Butcher's Feast is the move, a family-style spread of kimchi stew and egg soufflé before the real business, premium wagyu and prime cuts cooked tableside by a service team that clearly rehearsed.

The rib-eye comes with a lemongrass chimichurri, which tells you most of what you need to know about this Asian-inflected steakhouse in Wallingford. Rachel Yang, a James Beard nominee, and her partner built a menu where Pacific Northwest ingredients meet continental technique and a full sweep of Asian flavors. The room is big and buzzy without feeling generic. Scallion pancakes, black rice, grass-fed beef: the menu swings wide and lands consistently.

A 15-foot wood-fire hearth anchors the kitchen at this modern steakhouse and seafood spot in West Des Moines, and the chef runs nearly everything past the flames, including the salads. Roasted bone marrow with brisket jam sits alongside reserve cuts that venture into A5 Kobe territory, so the range is real. Iowa takes beef seriously, and this place takes that seriously back, without feeling like a monument to red meat.

The Txuletón, a Basque-style ribeye from mature dairy cows, grilled over open charcoal with salt, heat, and not much else, is the organizing principle of this Basque-inspired chophouse in River North. The kitchen takes its cues from the asador tradition, applying that discipline to seriously sourced beef, carefully aged. Spanish reds anchor the wine list. Esquire named it among the best new restaurants in America, and it lands at number 15 on the World's Best Steak Restaurants list.

The British steakhouse import near Gramercy that made New York carnivores feel slightly underdressed. The room leans into a warm, vintage-century-club atmosphere, and the menu runs from serious cuts to the kind of British comfort food that sneaks up on you. The bar program is no afterthought, landing a regional Spirited Award and a James Beard semifinalist nod for beverages. A New York Times Critic's Pick, and reliably easier to love than the places that take themselves more seriously.

The architectural bar, deep honey-toned woods, and jacket-clad staff set the scene before you've even looked at the menu: this is a steakhouse and raw bar doing midcentury-modern decadence, and it commits fully. Seafood towers, caviar service, Australian wagyu, and martinis large enough to require a lifeguard. The room practically dares you to order the old fashioned and stop thinking about the bill. Wine Enthusiast named it a top new restaurant in 2025.

Low lighting, red leather banquettes, and a name borrowed from a French boxer set the tone at this Westside steakhouse. Ford Fry built Marcel as a speakeasy-style throwback where the menu leans into dry-aged ribeyes and côte de boeuf alongside French-accented sides that nobody at the table will let you skip. The price tag is real, but so is the fun, which is a rarer combination than it sounds.

The ceiling is covered in thousands of clay churchwarden pipes, each one claimed by a regular who never came back to collect it. Keens is an old-school Manhattan steakhouse in Midtown, all dark wood and white tablecloths, and the mutton chop alone has landed on the New York Times list of the city's defining dishes. The porterhouse is USDA Prime, dry-aged in-house, and broiled without apology. It sits at number 68 on the World's Best Steak Restaurants list.

Vintage Vegas glamour gets a quiet update at this steakhouse inside the Circa Resort, where the chef behind Scotch 80 Prime brings a recognizable hand to the Downtown corridor. The menu runs classic prime cuts but keeps slipping in detours: lobster and shrimp potstickers, short rib with harissa, tater tots finished with poutine gravy. The crowd skews loyal, the kind who followed the chef here from his last room and haven't opened the menu in months.

A steakhouse a short walk from the State House, which tells you a lot about who's having lunch here. Mooo.... keeps a classic chophouse feel but updates it with a menu that ranges from standard prime cuts to Japanese A5 Wagyu, depending on how the negotiations went. The room is warm and polished, the service professional without being stiff, and the beef does most of the talking it needs to.

The lobby full of old menus and stockyard memorabilia tells you exactly where you are before you've ordered a drink. Johnny's is an old-school steakhouse in south Omaha's Union Stockyards neighborhood, the kind of place that has a cowboy-themed bar and a house salad dressing people ask about. The family has been running it forever, and it picked up a James Beard America's Classics award for the Midwest in 2026.

This is a Jean-Georges steakhouse at the Bellagio, and it looks more like a jeweler's showroom than a place to eat a cow, with velvet, crystal chandeliers, and a jewel-tone palette. Tables face the fountains, so the water show has a better seat than most people you know. The menu pairs Japanese and American beef with steakhouse classics, and the room fills with expense accounts and decanters of big red.

Tobacco-brown Chesterfield sofas, exposed brick, and a jazz soundtrack that never quite lets you hear your neighbor all set the mood at this River North steakhouse. Wet-aged cuts are broiled with care, and the raw bar holds its own alongside them. The room is dark and loud by design, which mostly works in everyone's favor. The Michelin Guide has it listed, and on a Friday night you'll understand why the reservations go fast.

The dry-aging locker runs along the front window so you see the USDA Prime slabs before you even open the door, which is a very Gallaghers way of setting expectations. This old-school Midtown steakhouse has been around forever, and the walls of jockey photos and the rolling dessert cart are not ironic. Hickory-grilled steaks, creamed spinach, a bar that hums, and a menu that still winks at Prohibition. Ranked among the World's Best Steak Restaurants.

Harlo is an upscale steakhouse in Summerlin, set up like an old Vegas lounge with chandeliers, indoor trees, and booths plush enough to lose a fork in. The caviar comes mix-and-match with malt vinegar fries and latkes, and the wagyu tomahawk gets carved at your table, price tag included. It's a place to wear the good jacket, though happy hour martinis with charred olives cost $11 for those watching.

A low-lit cottage in the old Clarksville neighborhood, Jeffrey's is a fine-dining steakhouse where the beef is USDA Prime or American Wagyu, dry-aged and finished over an oak-fired grill. The room is close and quietly elegant, the wine list ranges from Napa to Burgundy with confidence, and the service moves like it has nowhere more important to be. The Michelin Guide has selected it, and it appears on the World's Best Steak Restaurants list.

Scotch 80 Prime is the steakhouse at Palms, where the wagyu comes from specific farms across Japan and the chef knows which. It's pricier than a pizza night but gentler than the Strip's steakhouses, and happy hour knocks 30 percent off select steaks and garlicky ibérico lumpia. You can perch at the bar for beef sold by the ounce, or go all in on A5 striploin and see how much marbling a human can reasonably absorb.

The popovers arrive with housemade tomato jam before you've even settled in, which tells you a lot about how this Anaheim steakhouse operates. Saddle-and-spur decor sets the mood at this meat-forward room, though produce from the restaurant's own farm keeps things from feeling purely carnivorous. The prime rib and scalloped potatoes are built for sharing, as is everything else, unless you've skipped lunch with conviction.

Scarlet curtains climbing toward the ceiling set the scene at this Tao Group steakhouse in Chelsea, where the room commits fully to the bit. Melissa Rodriguez runs the kitchen, and the custom grill sears cuts edge to edge while a long roster of vegetable sides keeps things honest. The desserts punch well above the steakhouse average. A thoughtful wine list and servers who actually know how to pace a table round out the package.

The dining room is carved from an actual downtown warehouse boiler room, all industrial bones and art on the walls. It's a meat-forward restaurant with a serious wine list, where the kitchen cures its own charcuterie, makes its own sausages, and runs through a lot of wagyu. The chef earned a James Beard nomination for Best Chef: Midwest in 2024. The crudo is a quiet argument for not ignoring the seafood.

By day, Beast & Cleaver is a Ballard butcher shop where you can walk out with chops and links for the home stove. After hours it turns into a whole-animal steakhouse under the alter ego "The Peasant," running a tasting menu, which is the sort of double life usually reserved for superheroes. Steaks, house sausages, and even the salads draw a meat-minded crowd, and the chef was a James Beard Emerging Chef semifinalist.

A wood-burning oven does the heavy lifting at this intimate Italian steakhouse tucked into Nancy Silverton's Melrose compound. The kitchen leans hard into live fire and big cuts, with cooking that's boldly seasoned and more seasonal than you'd expect from a place where meat is basically the religion. The wine list runs deep into Italy. Booking is tight, and the room fills fast with people who clearly did not come to order a salad.

RingSide is a white-tablecloth steakhouse where the onion rings arrive piping hot and the martinis arrive cold enough to pass for a legal argument. The bar is sunken and dimly lit, with little booths made for settling in, and the Blazers are usually on, losing quietly. The menu runs to three kinds of Japanese Wagyu and a wine list the size of a hymnal. It also holds AAA Three Diamonds. Dress like you're staying.

Doris Metropolitan is a steakhouse that dry-ages its ribeye in-house and then slides Middle Eastern sides next to it, so the tahini salad and the harissa carrots get equal billing with the beef. There's a butchery on the premises if you'd like to take your steak home and cook it badly. It's an expense-account-adjacent night out, and the James Beard folks named the restaurateur a semifinalist.

This is a Strip steakhouse run by the Food Network's "bam" guy, and the wine list tops 2,700 bottles, which is a lot of reading before a baked potato. The Caesar is tossed tableside, as the form requires, and the lobster bisque comes loaded with actual chunks of lobster. The banana cream pie is a wall, and a glazed pork chop makes a case against the beef. Expect expense accounts and a jacket or two.

Carversteak is a Strip steakhouse where a martini cart makes laps during dinner service, which tells you how seriously the room takes the word "steakhouse." Expect a dressy, expense-account sort of evening, with investment bankers at the next table who may adopt you for drinks. The chilled seafood platters, stacked with shrimp, lobster tails, and oysters, are as much the draw as the beef.

This is a second-story steakhouse under a glass dome inside the Plaza, where the Casino dinner scene was filmed, so expect at least one table of suits murmuring "they filmed Casino here." The room was named for a former mayor who also worked as a mob attorney, which explains the menu. A zipline now blocks the Fremont views, but the burger with its pile of fried onions still outpaces the steaks.

The move at this old-school Phoenix chophouse is to come in through the kitchen, which is less a quirk than a statement of intent. Red leather banquettes, scarlet wallpaper, dim lighting, and the kind of martinis that explain why the power brokers still fill the room. The relish tray arrives gratis over ice, which somehow feels exactly right. They've been doing the 48-ounce porterhouse and prime rib forever, and they're not taking notes from anyone.

The oak fire roaring in the open kitchen sets the tone: this is a steakhouse that means business. Anchored at the base of one of downtown Denver's tallest towers, Guard and Grace pairs floor-to-ceiling wine storage and a full seafood bar with the cuts you came for. The room is vast and dramatic, the kind of place where the architecture does half the talking. A Michelin Selected restaurant with AAA Four Diamonds.

The fireplace in the entry has been warming Wall Street deal-makers since before anyone can remember, and the wood-paneled dining room at this old-school steakhouse still reads like a set for exactly that. The boneless rib-eye that carries the house name is the move, though the lobster Newburg keeps loyalists from ever opening another section of the menu. Business casual is the unspoken dress code, and nobody seems to mind.

This is the Vegas outpost of the Brooklyn steakhouse that built a reputation on dry-aged porterhouse and a famously brusque dining room. Expect a pricey, old-school meat house with the kind of check that makes the sizzling platter feel like a down payment. Lunch has a quieter trick: a burger served only a few hours, Wednesday through Sunday, made from chuck and scraps of the dry-aged loin, and nearly $30 once fries show up.

The 1889 Saloon inside is supposedly designed by the cattle baron's wife, which is exactly the kind of detail that makes this old-school Phoenix steakhouse feel like it earned its spurs. Corn-fed aged beef and prime rib anchor the menu, alongside bison meatloaf and baking soda biscuits that haven't changed much since the place opened. The Western décor leans hard into its ranching roots, and nobody seems to mind.

The view from the top of Reunion Tower has been making Dallas look good for years, and the steakhouse that lives up there now leans into it hard, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a dress code keeping things appropriately sharp. Sushi shares the menu with steaks from local farms, and the triple-cooked fries are the kind of side you order again before the first plate is cleared. Book well ahead; 200 seats fill faster than you'd expect.

Jean-Georges Vongerichten's steakhouse inside the ARIA leans on the premium-cut playbook, Wagyu and Kobe alongside serious seafood, with the kind of sauce work that reminds you a French-trained chef is quietly running things. The room is sleek and contemporary, polished enough for a deal dinner but not so stiff you feel watched. The wine list is extensive and the service knows it. AAA Four Diamonds.

The menu is the size of a sandwich board, which tells you something about the ambition. Grill 23 is an old-school fine dining steakhouse housed in a grand multi-story room, all white tablecloths and uniformed servers in perpetual motion. Dry-aged steaks are the obvious move, and the wine cellar runs to nearly 2,000 bottles. The kind of place Bostonians go when someone else is paying, or when they want to feel like someone else is.

The wine list is a wall of bottles you grab yourself on the way to your table, which tells you roughly everything about how this steakhouse operates. Carne sits in RiNo and divides its menu into Baller Moves and Normies, with a $175 tomahawk firmly in the former camp. Cuts come from Argentina, Mexico, and beyond. The tableside martini cart arrives with vintage Playboy magazines on it, in case the vibe needed clarifying.

Tuxedo jackets, Converse sneakers, and a glassed-in meat-cutting room in the back: Born & Raised is an upscale steakhouse dressed in mid-century art deco bones with black-and-white portraits of rap legends lining the walls. Waiters push tableside carts for cocktails and starters, and the open-air rooftop overlooks Little Italy. The steaks are the main event, but the tartare, finished tableside with quail egg and capers, holds its own.

Booths upholstered like living-room couches and plates finished with flowers signal that this is not your father's chophouse. Be.Stéak.Ă is an Italian-leaning steakhouse in Campbell where the menu wanders through the Mediterranean before landing firmly on meat. The patio has a fireplace and corrugated steel ceilings, and the Ramos Fizz is reportedly shaken for ten full minutes, which is either dedication or performance art.

Coral Gables has a new-school steakhouse that runs on locally raised beef and Australian Wagyu, dry-aged and handled with the kind of seriousness that usually comes with a longer track record. The room keeps things understated, natural materials and soft light instead of the old dark-wood-and-excess formula. It landed at number 40 on the World's Best Steak Restaurants list, which is a statement for a place still finding its footing.

Prime beef has been the main event here since the 1980s, with the kitchen turning out steaks at a consistency that keeps the regulars from ever really needing the menu. It's a classic North Jersey steakhouse, lobster and fine seafood rounding things out, plus a sushi and sashimi program that feels less like a gimmick and more like a genuine reason to stray from the beef. Just over the George Washington Bridge for Manhattan types making the case for New Jersey.

An Art Deco chophouse and raw bar in downtown Silver Spring, J. Hollinger's splits its loyalties between land and sea: prime steaks anchor the menu, but the kitchen lets you pile on butter-poached crab or fried oysters if you're feeling ambitious. The duck confit and homemade ricotta ravioli give non-carnivores a reason to show up too. Happy hour runs most of the week, and the dollar oysters keep things from getting too serious.

A horseshoe bar built for ordering another round and reconsidering your diet anchors this swanky Cherry Creek steakhouse. The open kitchen is positioned to do exactly what it sounds like, and watching seafood towers and massive chops roll past does tend to loosen the budget. Sushi rolls sit alongside the classic steakhouse trimmings, which is either ambitious or just honest about what people actually want. Save room for the chocolate ganache globe.

A jet-black falcon statue on the second floor is the reason half the room is taking photos, the other half pretending they aren't. John's Grill is an old-school San Francisco steakhouse where the walls are dark leather-brown, the tablecloths are white, and the staff dress to match the bird. The menu runs to lamb chops, crab, and other unapologetic classics. Dashiell Hammett set scenes here, which the place has never let anyone forget, and fairly so.

Corner windows, kitschy wall art, and a bar that fills up well before dinner, A5 is a modern steakhouse with the warm energy of a place people come back to rather than cross off a list. Chef Max MacKissock plays the classics with a light hand, and the room has enough going on that a third martini starts to feel like sound planning. The Michelin Guide has selected it.

This West Loop steakhouse cooks Argentinian-style asado over an open hearth in a dining room built so you can watch your dinner get the full campfire treatment. It's a dressed-up night out with a check to match, and the menu has fun with itself: the bone marrow doubles as a shot glass for mezcal, and the "Party Steak" arrives with a trio of sauces, presumably so no one has to share a favorite.

Don's Prime is a white-marble, gold-trimmed steakhouse inside Fontainebleau, where the staff in velvet tuxedos treat service like a stage production. Raw steaks are presented on a board for your approval, Old Fashioneds get mixed on a rolling cart, and dessert arrives with its own trolley. Dress like someone who expects to be looked at, since the circular bar is that kind of seat. Eater named it the best new steakhouse.