Butcher & Singer

The steak Diane was one notable flub on a vintage classic, with a brown sauce overdosed on peppery Worcestershire and booze that showed how hard it is for young chefs to re-create dishes that pretty much died before they were born. They could have dialed back the spice in the beef tartare, too.

Speaking of toning it down, Butcher's overly chirpy manager might restrain herself from incessantly interrupting meals to blather on about the retro nostalgia. Her uninvited monologues (four at my first meal) and forced introductions were a saccharine distraction from the otherwise excellent, understated service given by waiters like Michael Galluccio.

The vintage shtick works best if left to speak for itself - especially because this kitchen can also do its part. Pastry chef Jennifer Martin, who delivered perfectly fine versions of the usual standbys (cheesecake, carrot cake and apple crumble), practically stole the show with her own throwback finale: the leaping meringue-topped dome of a baked Alaska hiding housemade banana ice cream and apricot compote.

But the savory side more than pulled its weight, too. I had far better luck, for example, with the lobster thermidor, a $55 splurge that brought the half-shell of a big crustacean stuffed with fistfuls of picked meat, royal trumpet mushrooms, and a bisquey sauce that pushed decadence to the edge. Flamed with brandy, toned up with Tabasco, and enriched with roe and a hollandaise glaze, it was impossible not to finish.

The fried oysters, lightly mesquite-smoked then crisped and served with chive creme fraiche and trout roe, may be the best in the city. The tall crab cake, bound with little more than seasoned mayo, butter, and whipped egg whites, was a paragon of unfettered crabby sweetness. The generous crab and shrimp Louis, with its spice-tingled Russian dressing, avocado fan, and iceberg wedge, was a meal in itself. I also loved the Butcher salad, a charcuterie-laced "hoagie in a bowl" that winked at cheap old-fashioned Italian dressing by cleverly re-creating it from scratch (secret ingredient: tomato juice).

The sides here are good renditions of the standards, from the fresh 22-ounce baked spuds to the log-size asparagus in vinaigrette and truffled wild mushrooms. One side, though, was irresistible - the stuffed hash brown, a plump cake of crisp potato laces sandwiched around diced potatoes and sweet onions enriched with sour cream.

Some other updates on the mundane also caught my eye: The addictively classic lobster bisque at lunch was almost like spooning thermidor sauce from a bowl. The French onion soup, topped with a molten lid of tangy cheese, was even better than the one served at Starr's Parc around the corner.

And what of the big juice bomb on a bun that is the Butcher burger? How can I resist this 10-ounce crumble of lightly packed dry-aged prime beef, charred onions, and oozy English cheddar? True, there are some perfectly excellent seafood options to consider here - the meaty halibut amandine with cauliflower puree, for one, which turns out to be a terrific (and popular) choice.

But who really comes to the corner of 15th and Walnut for fish anymore? In the land of ever-grander red-meat options, that's ancient history.