by Lauren Kent
Close your eyes and picture yourself inside a steakhouse. Are you surrounded by mahogany and dimly lit booths, longhorn busts protruding from walls and rafters, the sounds of ice tinkling in glasses full of Johnny Walker and the deep, husky murmur of men discussing their shareholders, the Bush Administration and the Cowboys defensive lineup with equal fervor? Perhaps there is a football game on a big screen above the bar, and, if you’re imagination has taken you to the pre-smoking ban era, you might catch whiffs of Monte Cristo cigars.
Was I close? If so, you obviously haven’t been to the Park Lane development’s newest installment, Bailey’s Prime Plus. Someone turned on the lights in the tried and tired world of steak staples, and we’re feeling the heat. Cavernous depths and wedges of wooden booths have been traded for floor-to-ceiling windows and high-back, ivory, gold and black cushions. Back rooms where the good ‘ol boys would retire into a cloud of smoke are now private, gorgeously decorated halls, chandeliered and shimmering, particularly the front “Black and White” room guests ooh and ahh at while waiting for a seat in the dining area. To the right of the entrance you will find the red and black bar, where guests can drop the Johnny for a smoking martini made with dry ice, and on weekend nights listen to a sexy chanteuse partner up with the grand piano for a jazzy, Jessica Rabbit-esque exhibit.
On the menu you will be pleased to find all the staples of a prime steakhouse, with a little extra frill in the right places. Start off with a King Crabcake, an order of Jumbo Onion Rings with spiked ketchup or a bowl of Lobster Bisque, or try the Almond Crusted Brie with strawberry ginger jam, warm and gooey with the slightest crunch of an exterior. The salad list is similar, with popular mainstays like the Chopped, the Spinach, and the Caesar, but with a house specialty thrown in called “That” salad, tossed with brandied cherries, candied pistachios, blue cheese and a maple-sherry vinaigrette.
Truly, the first pothole in the golden road was with the main course—I tried, upon insistence from the server, the Double Cut Colorado Lamb Chops, served with a peach and pepper marmalade. The proportion was certainly not lacking, but the flavor profile of the fruity salad with the lamb confused rather than delighted me, not to mention the meat was overcooked and a bit salty. Upon inching my fork to my partner’s plate, however, I was incredibly impressed with the Jalapeno Onion Crusted Bass, served in a sea of Tequila and red chile cream sauce, which seemed a little overkill until we were swirling chunks of fish around the plate to soak up the flavors. You can also find classics like the Surf &Turf, ribeyes and bone-in strips, but if you’re having a filet make sure to order it Foie Gras style, topped with truffles and wild mushrooms.
But the icing on the cake came with, you guessed it, the icing on the cake. The dessert menu brings the most surprising concoctions, mirroring the elaborate decadence found on the walls and ceilings. Crème brûlée, the second-best thing the French did for the mouth, can be found here Bailey’s style, made with butterscotch and caramelized bananas and topped with cinnamon friend parsnip and banana chips. Equally if not more luxurious is the Praline Brownie Cheesecake, a dual-layered ecstasy-inspiring treat topped with toffee chunks and caramel sauce. My sweet-tooth is not easily enticed, but these after-dinner delights were impossibly delicious. I only managed to put down the spoon after remembering the words of a fellow foodie: You want the belt to buckle, not the chair.
