L.A. Prime Steak House

We were wandering around the vast lobby of the Westin Bonaventure Hotel in downtown L.A., past indoor lake after indoor lake, fountain after fountain, decorated with more Chia pets -- dolphins, bears and their offspring -- than I've ever seen in one place. OK, they weren't really Chia pets, but some sort of imitation topiary that gives the same effect.

When we finally found the sign for L.A. Prime, the hotel's new New York-style steakhouse, we waved over one of our party who had strayed what seemed like blocks away, only to read further: "this elevator does not go to" -- L.A. Prime. At that, we cried uncle and asked at the concierge desk.

Shooting up the glass elevator a few dozen floors, we arrived at the panoramic steakhouse one floor above the revolving bar (now there's a '70s concept). We followed the hostess halfway around the tower to our table, a cozy booth covered in racing checks with a sort of canopy overhead. The view, however, was a disappointment, a wedge of sky between two spectacularly ugly -- and, unfortunately, very large -- buildings. (Most other tables have better views.)

Next to us, a couple of businessmen talked natural gas. Across the room, someone explained the L.A. freeway system to an incredulous visitor. To my East Coast friends, a New York steakhouse means sawdust on the floor, rude service and a wine list full of wines no one has never heard of. L.A. Prime has none of the above.

Why the powers-that-be felt that what downtown L.A. needed was yet another steakhouse, I can't imagine. We've already got Pacific Dining Car (which recently lowered its prices), Nick & Stef's Steakhouse and Windows in the Transamerica Tower. Sad to say, this one doesn't begin to compete. The service is warm, and right on the mark, but the food is misconceived.

Each of the steaks we tried had a strange, teriyaki-like glaze on the outside of the meat (something that might cause a riot in New York). The best thing about the steaks is the silky bearnaise that arrives in a silver sauce boat. Garlic mashed potatoes have an oddly bitter aftertaste, and shoestring fries turn out to be standard cut.

There's a pretty good olive relish to slather on your bread that's something like minced martini olives, and a decent but pricey fresh lobster cocktail laced with lots of crunchy celery. And cherrystone clams on the half shell are terrific, especially if you doctor them with a little of the cocktail sauce and some extra horseradish. Desserts run to the sticky and sweet.

Still, L.A. Prime has to do much better than this if it's going to attract anybody but guests stranded in the hotel.