For a moment, it seemed that omakase was on its way to becoming the ultimate dining splurge but the pleasures of the straightforward exuberance of the steakhouse make the case for its primacy: There is simply nothing like a hunk of beef that’s been dry-aged for more than a month and cooked perfectly medium rare — or all the things that go with it inside the city’s supreme temples of decadence, from silky smooth whipped potatoes and crisp wedges to brain-freeze-inducing martinis and over-the-top chocolate cake. Not every craving for a steak necessitates the full steakhouse experience (or bill), however, so we’ve also included some of our favorite steaks from some restaurants that are decidedly not steakhouses. This list will be updated from time to time as we eat more steaks.
Alpen Rose
A steakhouse that’s intimate is as rare as the center of a correctly cooked beef Wellington. You can find both at this Center City jewel from Michael Schulson, whose Schulson Collective now spans more than a dozen restaurants. The restaurant’s sumptuous interior — an arched, wood-paneled ceiling; crystal chandeliers; moody library-like nooks — creates the perfect atmosphere for an all-out chophouse splurge, but at just 50 seats, give or take, you feel like you have the place (comparatively) to yourselves. Add to that plush Parker House rolls, succulent seared octopus, buttery bone marrow toast, and slabs of dry-aged beef that, when prepared to Alpen Rose’s finest, vie for the top steaks in the city. Here you have fine dining par excellence — landing it on the inaugural Inquirer 76. If, after dinner, you need still more steakhouse splendor, go for the pineapple upside down Alaska, in which an orb of meringue is set aflame, like an Epcot effigy in miniature. — Jenn Ladd
Barclay Prime
It’s been more than two decades since Stephen Starr created his sleek vision of a modern meat palace at Barclay Prime, a contemporary library space where diners in plush green couches gleefully spend triple digits on luxury cheesesteaks (skip it, too much Cooper Sharp) and wield designer knives for insanely marbled slices of rare Japanese beef. The opportunity to try Japanese Wagyu from one of three different prefectures ($210 per 8-ounce strip, and certified tableside with a gilded plaque) is intriguing, but the firmer cuts of American beef are the ones that most hold my admiration, especially the 18-ounce prime ribeye for $78. Dry-aged for 40 days, its perfectly charred, rosy thickness remains one of Philly’s most holy steaks, with such a deeply nuanced savor that my Porsche-branded blade kept zooming back for yet another slice. Add the signature warm pop-overs, the briny-sweetness of king crab legs from the raw bar, housemade tater tots, and the classic creamed spinach, plus some of the most veteran service in the city, and you have a fine-tuned steakhouse operation that largely delivers on its extravagant prices. (One exception: The desserts, including a clumsy triple-flavored deep-dish cookie, were a letdown.) — Craig LaBan
Butcher and Singer
The vibes are pitch-perfect in this Stephen Starr showpiece on Walnut Street, a meticulously designed ode to old Hollywood set in the former Striped Bass. Spotlights beam down from the space’s towering coffered ceilings, illuminating each taupe-linened table as if it were a stage. Tuxedoed waiters kick off their performance with your selection of a strong drink (try the Robber Baron Manhattan for something as luxe as the scenery, or a cacio e pepe martini for something offbeat) and a lengthy rundown of the night’s specials, be they wagyu beef from Nebraska or soft shell crabs. A basket of golden-brown buttermilk biscuits and honey butter appears shortly after (Starr restaurants excel at bread service), priming you for a perfectly timed parade of steakhouse classics. Start with lighter fare to pace yourself for the steak: a crisply composed wedge salad (they’ll chop it for you to share), a perfectly manicured lobster cocktail, and shrimp and crab Louie — chilled hunks nestled in a cup of lettuce alongside a fan of avocado slices, with a gravy boat of cocktail sauce-spiked dressing on the side. Spring for the surf and turf to maximize the luxury, along with a flurry of sides, from crispy stuffed hash browns (think potato-on-potato) to green beans amandine. By the time dessert arrives, you may be tempted to sprawl out in the banquette, but find room for a dish of homemade ice cream or a slice of turtle cheesecake lightly tinged with chocolate and caramel. — Jenn Ladd
Creed’s Seafood & Steaks
Back in 1982, King of Prussia had barely achieved nobility when Jim Creed and a long-ago partner opened what was then known as the Baron’s Inne. Now, fueled by multiple expansions of nearby King of Prussia Mall, Creed’s Seafood & Steak has a dozen corporate-owned white-tablecloth competitors. Creed’s, spread over a warren of dining rooms in a former roadhouse, keeps it retro with a staid, horse country air (foxhunt paintings, bric-a-brac, and plaid wallpaper) and old-fashioned service from waiters who know the seldom-changing menu backward and forward. The kitchen also knows how to cook a steak to temperature, regardless if you opt for the Pittsburgh-style (black-and-blue) New York strip, a ribeye, or a filet. You get a half-dozen sauce options at no extra charge, but regulars will steer you to the brandy peppercorn. — Michael Klein
Gaucho’s Prime
The caipirinhas flow at this sumptuously decorated Brazilian churrascaria in King of Prussia, run by alumni of Fogo de Chão. The salad bar, brimming with Brazilian salads, sides, breads, soups, a board of sliced meats and cheeses, is reason enough to visit. But you’ll want to keep your two-sided service disc set to “green,” which will flag down a skewer-wielding gaucho-costumed waiter bearing 18 meats, including picanha, alcatra, and fraldinha, which they’ll slice off till you say “suficiente.” Even when full, you’ll likely regret flipping it to red. — Michael Klein
Hearthside
Hearthside is not a steakhouse, but chef Dominic Piperno’s modern American hit in Collingswood is absolutely a destination for steak. That’s because of the live fire hearth that roars at the core of this open kitchen — an homage to Tuscany, where Piperno lived and worked for three years and fell in love with classic bistecca alla Fiorentina. A 35-ounce ribeye, carefully dry-aged for 35 days by Cherry Hill butcher Arnie’s Meats, roasted directly over the coals and mopped with a rosemary bundle dipped in molten dry-aged beef fat infused with garlic, is one of the closest things you can get to meat-topia. It’s a major splurge at $200 (with a pile of frites), but unquestionably one of the most complexly flavored, satisfyingly beefy things I’ve eaten this year. It’s an easy centerpiece for four diners to share a la carte alongside some other dishes (a whole branzino, perhaps, or some excellent scallops) or as a supplement to the $90 prix-fixe. Slightly smaller cuts, like the 24-ounce bone-in strip aged for 28 days ($130) are nearly equally worthy. — Craig LaBan
Joey Chops
In a suburban steak landscape crowded with cookie-cutter corporate chains, Joey Chops feels different. For one thing, it’s considerably less stuffy, in a former Carrabba’s Italian Grill that was turned into a Stove & Tap gastropub, then re-concepted once again by the Stove and Co. restaurant group into an accessible chop house after the pandemic crushed their casual dining business model. (You can still see the corrugated metal ceilings and plaid booths from that more laid-back Stove & Tap phase.) Named for corporate chef Joe Monnich, Joey Chops takes its beef seriously, with prime and Australian wagyu cuts that the kitchen starts over a wood-fired Aztec grill. The quality was outstanding, including a prime N.Y. strip I’m still thinking about ($60 for 14 ounces), and a dry-aged big bopper porterhouse (32 ounces, $110) that seemed to be flying around me in the dining room. But what was that extra richness? It’s Monnich’s secret touch: a full-on dunk in a butter bath before the grilled meat rests, plus another dip before it sizzles to a finish in the 1,800-degree broiler. Top your meal off with a tableside visit from the popular cheesecake cart laden with all the fixings, because indulgence at this suburban surprise comes in many forms. — Craig LaBan
Mary
Pepper and beef. It’s a combination Chad Rosenthal became well acquainted with during his 16 years in the barbecue business at the (now closed) Lucky Well and Rosey’s before that. It should be no surprise that when he decided on a steak to anchor the small menu at Mary, his intimate and moody BYOB in downtown Ambler, that he’d settle on steak au poivre. Rosenthal thoroughly encrusts a well-marbled 12-ounce hunk of prime-grade N.Y. strip in cracked black peppercorns and kosher salt, then sears it dry in a screeching hot steel pan, toasting the peppercorns and also lending a whiff of smoke. He finishes it to temp with a basting of olive oil, Irish butter, and herbs, then, while that steak rests, comes a classic cognac sauce, built in the pan with layers of flavor from the drippings and more peppercorns (with anise pinkies now in the mix). A flash of brandy fire, beef stock, and cream give it all a luxurious gloss. Paired with freshly crisped wedges of the house Kennebec chips, this $45 indulgence is one of the zestiest, most lip-tingling plates of buttery beef and potatoes that side of the Montgomery County line. It’s also an intriguing new challenge for the Food Network personality, whose beef game has gone from the slow ride of smoked briskets to the “instant gratification” and “visceral thrill” of working in an open kitchen over a blazing hot pan for cooked-to-order steaks that Rosenthal says “keep me on my toes.” Settle into a warm slice of Jewish apple cake a la mode for a comfort food finish to the meal. — Craig LaBan
My Loup
My Loup is not a steakhouse on its face. But if you squint, you can see the glimmers of one: a meticulous raw bar program, potent cocktails both nouveau and classic, that soft, garlicky “Escar-roll,” ludicrously good chocolate cake, the dark wood and green leather banquettes. And oh yes, the Quebecois-tinged hit restaurant from chefs Amanda Shulman and Alex Kemp consistently serves one of Philly’s great steaks, it just happens to change all the time. Shortly after opening, it was a 32-ounce dry-aged côte de boeuf that critic Craig LaBan described as “Philly’s most magnetic steak splurge for two.” In early April, it was what can only be described as a baroque, onion-forward take on a filet: bone-in, dry-aged for 35 days, and served with, among other things, spring onions roasted in a dry-aged beef-fat vinaigrette, braised pearl onions, a caramelized onion and sherry vinegar sauce, and a chunk of Birchrun bleu cheese broiled directly on top. Whatever is on offer — currently a hangar steak — it’s probably the steak you need right now. — Matt Buchanan
Sergeantsville Inn
The road trips to Hunterdon County have begun now that Sean Gray, the longtime former chef of New York’s Momofuku Ko, has revitalized the kitchen at this lovingly restored 18th-century stone tavern just north of Lambertville. While the soy-brined fried chicken that Gray made famous at Ko’s bar is a happy hour draw, the chef has focused on updating American classics with meticulous technique, like the shrimp casino and radicchio salad. The menu also showcases an array of chops and steaks, including a 14-ounce N.Y Strip and a 32-ounce bone-in côte de boeuf. Both of these grass-fed, prime-grade slabs of Pennsylvania beef are sealed inside a layer of butter and beef tallow and dry aged for several weeks to achieve extra intensity before they’re grilled over the coals of a Big Green Egg. The steaks are paired with perfectly crisped, house-cut frites and an irresistible green peppercorn-cognac sauce. Budget carnivores can go for the $18 burger ground from the trimmings of those dry-aged chops. Pair them all with a Clos Sénéchal cab franc or another wine from one of the region’s most well-curated natural wine lists. — Craig LaBan
Steak 38
Cue the Sinatra soundtrack. This throwback steakhouse off Route 38 shares a parking lot with a motel, so outsiders might have mixed expectations, but there’s good reason South Jerseyans line up before the doors open at this Cherry Hill institution on weekends. Who can resist the siren song of snapper soup and a bread basket, followed by clams casino and a colossal shrimp cocktail? A rosy pink filet royale, crowned with crab meat, or a mesmerizingly spicy, seafood-flecked fra diavolo linguine? How about a Paper Plane cocktail served with a paper airplane? Steak38 isn’t about glitz and glamor — its block glass and twinkle lights are humble next to the interiors of its Center City counterparts — but I challenge you to find more a charming server than the man who wheels around the cart from table to table, effortlessly integrating into your conversation while mixing Caesar salad, punchy with Romano cheese, and flambeeing bananas foster. This may not be the most dazzling of Philly’s steakhouses, but it’s a no-brainer for a night out with good friends or your kids’ first taste of prime rib. — Jenn Ladd
Suraya
Dining at Suraya is largely a feast of small-plate Lebanese dips and delights, from classic salads (intensely smoky baba ghanoush, sweet and nutty bell pepper-walnut muhamarra) to raw lamb kibbeh nayyeh and crispy cauliflower with tarator sauce. When it comes to the main courses, though, proteins off the live fire grill are the star. None are better for sharing than the 28-ounce ribeye ($110) from DeBragga and Spitler in Jersey City. Executive chef Nick Kennedy seasons it simply with salt and pepper, but with 45 days worth of dry-aging to coax as much complexity and tenderness as possible out of that chop, the magic of the live coals does the rest. Pair each morsel with a dab silky of white toum, the classic Levantine condiment for grilled meats, and that garlicky Lebanese grace note will bring it home. — Craig LaBan
The Lovers Bar
Chad and Hanna Williams’ James Beard award-winning Rittenhouse gem is best known for the inventive tasting menus in its second floor dining that have made it one of Philly’s most coveted special occasion restaurants (as noted on my Top 10). But the a la carte menu at the walk-ins-only Lovers Bar downstairs (itself a current James Beard nominee) has its own allure, and one of those is an extraordinary steak. To begin with, Chad uses a prime-grade N.Y. strip. That gets seasoned with a crust of black peppercorns, thyme, and dried shiitake. After being pan-roasted and bathed in brown butter, along with garlic and more thyme, it lands on a cushion of silky potato mousseline that’s been passed three times through a sieve and enriched with butter and cream infused with grilled leeks. As if the swirling stripes of juniper-infused beet juice ringing the plate weren’t fragrant enough of a garnish, the crowning touch is a finishing splash of intense oxtail and chile pepper jus that ties back into some of the menu’s occasional Caribbean themes. “Our steak is a 10-year project,” says Chad, “and it’s literally been a lifelong lesson for me.” — Craig LaBan
The Prime Rib
Casinos are steakhouse magnets for hungry carnivores angling to celebrate over a juicy chop and a big potato. I’m no high roller, but I appreciate a good prime rib, and this stadium district casino’s version of the Prime Rib, a spin-off of the longtime Rittenhouse standby, hit all its old school marks during our visit. Located in a sprawling dark 300-seat space off the lobby beside the casino floor, we settled into our tufted black chairs (after rejecting a sagging banquette) and relaxed while the live pianist sang jazz standards and we munched through a basket of Greenberg potato skins and a crisply chilled wedge salad. Then came the thick paddle of 28-day dry-aged prime rib drenched in flavorful jus. It’s a throwback roast that, at $57 for the inch-thick Queen cut one-pounder, was a relative value compared to the pricier broiled steaks. The bone-in filet was a reach at $99, but it was also well cooked, and paying extra for that flavor-boosting bone, along with 28 days of dry-aging, is also worth it for a popular but generally bland cut I rarely order otherwise. The veteran servers (thank you, Juan Michala!) are also a plus, helping to ease our initial mood from skeptical to feeling pampered. By the time pastry chef Morgan Hudak’s towering chocolate cake arrived, its multiple layers more moist and delicious than I’d ever have expected from a casino mega-kitchen, it was like the dessert equivalent of house money: extra sweet. — Craig LaBan
The Pub
This iconic South Jersey steakhouse complex is a legend of the “immersive dining experience.” The Pub's sprawling dining room time-warps you to a medieval-themed slice of the 1960s, complete with flickering chandeliers, snapper soup, an iceberg-anchored salad bar, and servers delivering thick slabs of steak wheeled over on stainless-steel carts. It all feels effortlessly retro because it is. (Recent cosmetic and infrastructural renovations haven’t changed the experience a bit.) Go here for the fun of it — plus effusive service, generously sized classic cocktails, and reasonably priced (for a steakhouse) entrees. Prime rib, cooked over one of six open hearths, is the No. 1 order here, but consider the runner-up: the Carpet Bagger, a jumbo crab cake riding nine ounces of filet mignon, perhaps paired with a Long Island Iced Tea or a piña colada served in a goblet. — Jenn Ladd
Alpen Rose
A steakhouse that’s intimate is as rare as the center of a correctly cooked beef Wellington. You can find both at this Center City jewel from Michael Schulson, whose Schulson Collective now spans more than a dozen restaurants. The restaurant’s sumptuous interior — an arched, wood-paneled ceiling; crystal chandeliers; moody library-like nooks — creates the perfect atmosphere for an all-out chophouse splurge, but at just 50 seats, give or take, you feel like you have the place (comparatively) to yourselves. Add to that plush Parker House rolls, succulent seared octopus, buttery bone marrow toast, and slabs of dry-aged beef that, when prepared to Alpen Rose’s finest, vie for the top steaks in the city. Here you have fine dining par excellence — landing it on the inaugural Inquirer 76. If, after dinner, you need still more steakhouse splendor, go for the pineapple upside down Alaska, in which an orb of meringue is set aflame, like an Epcot effigy in miniature. — Jenn Ladd
Barclay Prime
It’s been more than two decades since Stephen Starr created his sleek vision of a modern meat palace at Barclay Prime, a contemporary library space where diners in plush green couches gleefully spend triple digits on luxury cheesesteaks (skip it, too much Cooper Sharp) and wield designer knives for insanely marbled slices of rare Japanese beef. The opportunity to try Japanese Wagyu from one of three different prefectures ($210 per 8-ounce strip, and certified tableside with a gilded plaque) is intriguing, but the firmer cuts of American beef are the ones that most hold my admiration, especially the 18-ounce prime ribeye for $78. Dry-aged for 40 days, its perfectly charred, rosy thickness remains one of Philly’s most holy steaks, with such a deeply nuanced savor that my Porsche-branded blade kept zooming back for yet another slice. Add the signature warm pop-overs, the briny-sweetness of king crab legs from the raw bar, housemade tater tots, and the classic creamed spinach, plus some of the most veteran service in the city, and you have a fine-tuned steakhouse operation that largely delivers on its extravagant prices. (One exception: The desserts, including a clumsy triple-flavored deep-dish cookie, were a letdown.) — Craig LaBan
Butcher and Singer
The vibes are pitch-perfect in this Stephen Starr showpiece on Walnut Street, a meticulously designed ode to old Hollywood set in the former Striped Bass. Spotlights beam down from the space’s towering coffered ceilings, illuminating each taupe-linened table as if it were a stage. Tuxedoed waiters kick off their performance with your selection of a strong drink (try the Robber Baron Manhattan for something as luxe as the scenery, or a cacio e pepe martini for something offbeat) and a lengthy rundown of the night’s specials, be they wagyu beef from Nebraska or soft shell crabs. A basket of golden-brown buttermilk biscuits and honey butter appears shortly after (Starr restaurants excel at bread service), priming you for a perfectly timed parade of steakhouse classics. Start with lighter fare to pace yourself for the steak: a crisply composed wedge salad (they’ll chop it for you to share), a perfectly manicured lobster cocktail, and shrimp and crab Louie — chilled hunks nestled in a cup of lettuce alongside a fan of avocado slices, with a gravy boat of cocktail sauce-spiked dressing on the side. Spring for the surf and turf to maximize the luxury, along with a flurry of sides, from crispy stuffed hash browns (think potato-on-potato) to green beans amandine. By the time dessert arrives, you may be tempted to sprawl out in the banquette, but find room for a dish of homemade ice cream or a slice of turtle cheesecake lightly tinged with chocolate and caramel. — Jenn Ladd
Creed’s Seafood & Steaks
Back in 1982, King of Prussia had barely achieved nobility when Jim Creed and a long-ago partner opened what was then known as the Baron’s Inne. Now, fueled by multiple expansions of nearby King of Prussia Mall, Creed’s Seafood & Steak has a dozen corporate-owned white-tablecloth competitors. Creed’s, spread over a warren of dining rooms in a former roadhouse, keeps it retro with a staid, horse country air (foxhunt paintings, bric-a-brac, and plaid wallpaper) and old-fashioned service from waiters who know the seldom-changing menu backward and forward. The kitchen also knows how to cook a steak to temperature, regardless if you opt for the Pittsburgh-style (black-and-blue) New York strip, a ribeye, or a filet. You get a half-dozen sauce options at no extra charge, but regulars will steer you to the brandy peppercorn. — Michael Klein
Gaucho’s Prime
The caipirinhas flow at this sumptuously decorated Brazilian churrascaria in King of Prussia, run by alumni of Fogo de Chão. The salad bar, brimming with Brazilian salads, sides, breads, soups, a board of sliced meats and cheeses, is reason enough to visit. But you’ll want to keep your two-sided service disc set to “green,” which will flag down a skewer-wielding gaucho-costumed waiter bearing 18 meats, including picanha, alcatra, and fraldinha, which they’ll slice off till you say “suficiente.” Even when full, you’ll likely regret flipping it to red. — Michael Klein
Hearthside
Hearthside is not a steakhouse, but chef Dominic Piperno’s modern American hit in Collingswood is absolutely a destination for steak. That’s because of the live fire hearth that roars at the core of this open kitchen — an homage to Tuscany, where Piperno lived and worked for three years and fell in love with classic bistecca alla Fiorentina. A 35-ounce ribeye, carefully dry-aged for 35 days by Cherry Hill butcher Arnie’s Meats, roasted directly over the coals and mopped with a rosemary bundle dipped in molten dry-aged beef fat infused with garlic, is one of the closest things you can get to meat-topia. It’s a major splurge at $200 (with a pile of frites), but unquestionably one of the most complexly flavored, satisfyingly beefy things I’ve eaten this year. It’s an easy centerpiece for four diners to share a la carte alongside some other dishes (a whole branzino, perhaps, or some excellent scallops) or as a supplement to the $90 prix-fixe. Slightly smaller cuts, like the 24-ounce bone-in strip aged for 28 days ($130) are nearly equally worthy. — Craig LaBan
Joey Chops
In a suburban steak landscape crowded with cookie-cutter corporate chains, Joey Chops feels different. For one thing, it’s considerably less stuffy, in a former Carrabba’s Italian Grill that was turned into a Stove & Tap gastropub, then re-concepted once again by the Stove and Co. restaurant group into an accessible chop house after the pandemic crushed their casual dining business model. (You can still see the corrugated metal ceilings and plaid booths from that more laid-back Stove & Tap phase.) Named for corporate chef Joe Monnich, Joey Chops takes its beef seriously, with prime and Australian wagyu cuts that the kitchen starts over a wood-fired Aztec grill. The quality was outstanding, including a prime N.Y. strip I’m still thinking about ($60 for 14 ounces), and a dry-aged big bopper porterhouse (32 ounces, $110) that seemed to be flying around me in the dining room. But what was that extra richness? It’s Monnich’s secret touch: a full-on dunk in a butter bath before the grilled meat rests, plus another dip before it sizzles to a finish in the 1,800-degree broiler. Top your meal off with a tableside visit from the popular cheesecake cart laden with all the fixings, because indulgence at this suburban surprise comes in many forms. — Craig LaBan
Mary
Pepper and beef. It’s a combination Chad Rosenthal became well acquainted with during his 16 years in the barbecue business at the (now closed) Lucky Well and Rosey’s before that. It should be no surprise that when he decided on a steak to anchor the small menu at Mary, his intimate and moody BYOB in downtown Ambler, that he’d settle on steak au poivre. Rosenthal thoroughly encrusts a well-marbled 12-ounce hunk of prime-grade N.Y. strip in cracked black peppercorns and kosher salt, then sears it dry in a screeching hot steel pan, toasting the peppercorns and also lending a whiff of smoke. He finishes it to temp with a basting of olive oil, Irish butter, and herbs, then, while that steak rests, comes a classic cognac sauce, built in the pan with layers of flavor from the drippings and more peppercorns (with anise pinkies now in the mix). A flash of brandy fire, beef stock, and cream give it all a luxurious gloss. Paired with freshly crisped wedges of the house Kennebec chips, this $45 indulgence is one of the zestiest, most lip-tingling plates of buttery beef and potatoes that side of the Montgomery County line. It’s also an intriguing new challenge for the Food Network personality, whose beef game has gone from the slow ride of smoked briskets to the “instant gratification” and “visceral thrill” of working in an open kitchen over a blazing hot pan for cooked-to-order steaks that Rosenthal says “keep me on my toes.” Settle into a warm slice of Jewish apple cake a la mode for a comfort food finish to the meal. — Craig LaBan
My Loup
My Loup is not a steakhouse on its face. But if you squint, you can see the glimmers of one: a meticulous raw bar program, potent cocktails both nouveau and classic, that soft, garlicky “Escar-roll,” ludicrously good chocolate cake, the dark wood and green leather banquettes. And oh yes, the Quebecois-tinged hit restaurant from chefs Amanda Shulman and Alex Kemp consistently serves one of Philly’s great steaks, it just happens to change all the time. Shortly after opening, it was a 32-ounce dry-aged côte de boeuf that critic Craig LaBan described as “Philly’s most magnetic steak splurge for two.” In early April, it was what can only be described as a baroque, onion-forward take on a filet: bone-in, dry-aged for 35 days, and served with, among other things, spring onions roasted in a dry-aged beef-fat vinaigrette, braised pearl onions, a caramelized onion and sherry vinegar sauce, and a chunk of Birchrun bleu cheese broiled directly on top. Whatever is on offer — currently a hangar steak — it’s probably the steak you need right now. — Matt Buchanan
Sergeantsville Inn
The road trips to Hunterdon County have begun now that Sean Gray, the longtime former chef of New York’s Momofuku Ko, has revitalized the kitchen at this lovingly restored 18th-century stone tavern just north of Lambertville. While the soy-brined fried chicken that Gray made famous at Ko’s bar is a happy hour draw, the chef has focused on updating American classics with meticulous technique, like the shrimp casino and radicchio salad. The menu also showcases an array of chops and steaks, including a 14-ounce N.Y Strip and a 32-ounce bone-in côte de boeuf. Both of these grass-fed, prime-grade slabs of Pennsylvania beef are sealed inside a layer of butter and beef tallow and dry aged for several weeks to achieve extra intensity before they’re grilled over the coals of a Big Green Egg. The steaks are paired with perfectly crisped, house-cut frites and an irresistible green peppercorn-cognac sauce. Budget carnivores can go for the $18 burger ground from the trimmings of those dry-aged chops. Pair them all with a Clos Sénéchal cab franc or another wine from one of the region’s most well-curated natural wine lists. — Craig LaBan
Steak 38
Cue the Sinatra soundtrack. This throwback steakhouse off Route 38 shares a parking lot with a motel, so outsiders might have mixed expectations, but there’s good reason South Jerseyans line up before the doors open at this Cherry Hill institution on weekends. Who can resist the siren song of snapper soup and a bread basket, followed by clams casino and a colossal shrimp cocktail? A rosy pink filet royale, crowned with crab meat, or a mesmerizingly spicy, seafood-flecked fra diavolo linguine? How about a Paper Plane cocktail served with a paper airplane? Steak38 isn’t about glitz and glamor — its block glass and twinkle lights are humble next to the interiors of its Center City counterparts — but I challenge you to find more a charming server than the man who wheels around the cart from table to table, effortlessly integrating into your conversation while mixing Caesar salad, punchy with Romano cheese, and flambeeing bananas foster. This may not be the most dazzling of Philly’s steakhouses, but it’s a no-brainer for a night out with good friends or your kids’ first taste of prime rib. — Jenn Ladd
Suraya
Dining at Suraya is largely a feast of small-plate Lebanese dips and delights, from classic salads (intensely smoky baba ghanoush, sweet and nutty bell pepper-walnut muhamarra) to raw lamb kibbeh nayyeh and crispy cauliflower with tarator sauce. When it comes to the main courses, though, proteins off the live fire grill are the star. None are better for sharing than the 28-ounce ribeye ($110) from DeBragga and Spitler in Jersey City. Executive chef Nick Kennedy seasons it simply with salt and pepper, but with 45 days worth of dry-aging to coax as much complexity and tenderness as possible out of that chop, the magic of the live coals does the rest. Pair each morsel with a dab silky of white toum, the classic Levantine condiment for grilled meats, and that garlicky Lebanese grace note will bring it home. — Craig LaBan
The Lovers Bar
Chad and Hanna Williams’ James Beard award-winning Rittenhouse gem is best known for the inventive tasting menus in its second floor dining that have made it one of Philly’s most coveted special occasion restaurants (as noted on my Top 10). But the a la carte menu at the walk-ins-only Lovers Bar downstairs (itself a current James Beard nominee) has its own allure, and one of those is an extraordinary steak. To begin with, Chad uses a prime-grade N.Y. strip. That gets seasoned with a crust of black peppercorns, thyme, and dried shiitake. After being pan-roasted and bathed in brown butter, along with garlic and more thyme, it lands on a cushion of silky potato mousseline that’s been passed three times through a sieve and enriched with butter and cream infused with grilled leeks. As if the swirling stripes of juniper-infused beet juice ringing the plate weren’t fragrant enough of a garnish, the crowning touch is a finishing splash of intense oxtail and chile pepper jus that ties back into some of the menu’s occasional Caribbean themes. “Our steak is a 10-year project,” says Chad, “and it’s literally been a lifelong lesson for me.” — Craig LaBan
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The Prime Rib
Casinos are steakhouse magnets for hungry carnivores angling to celebrate over a juicy chop and a big potato. I’m no high roller, but I appreciate a good prime rib, and this stadium district casino’s version of the Prime Rib, a spin-off of the longtime Rittenhouse standby, hit all its old school marks during our visit. Located in a sprawling dark 300-seat space off the lobby beside the casino floor, we settled into our tufted black chairs (after rejecting a sagging banquette) and relaxed while the live pianist sang jazz standards and we munched through a basket of Greenberg potato skins and a crisply chilled wedge salad. Then came the thick paddle of 28-day dry-aged prime rib drenched in flavorful jus. It’s a throwback roast that, at $57 for the inch-thick Queen cut one-pounder, was a relative value compared to the pricier broiled steaks. The bone-in filet was a reach at $99, but it was also well cooked, and paying extra for that flavor-boosting bone, along with 28 days of dry-aging, is also worth it for a popular but generally bland cut I rarely order otherwise. The veteran servers (thank you, Juan Michala!) are also a plus, helping to ease our initial mood from skeptical to feeling pampered. By the time pastry chef Morgan Hudak’s towering chocolate cake arrived, its multiple layers more moist and delicious than I’d ever have expected from a casino mega-kitchen, it was like the dessert equivalent of house money: extra sweet. — Craig LaBan
The Pub
This iconic South Jersey steakhouse complex is a legend of the “immersive dining experience.” The Pub's sprawling dining room time-warps you to a medieval-themed slice of the 1960s, complete with flickering chandeliers, snapper soup, an iceberg-anchored salad bar, and servers delivering thick slabs of steak wheeled over on stainless-steel carts. It all feels effortlessly retro because it is. (Recent cosmetic and infrastructural renovations haven’t changed the experience a bit.) Go here for the fun of it — plus effusive service, generously sized classic cocktails, and reasonably priced (for a steakhouse) entrees. Prime rib, cooked over one of six open hearths, is the No. 1 order here, but consider the runner-up: the Carpet Bagger, a jumbo crab cake riding nine ounces of filet mignon, perhaps paired with a Long Island Iced Tea or a piña colada served in a goblet. — Jenn Ladd