Nov. 28 (Bloomberg) -- The bull is named Prime. You will eat his young.

That's the high concept behind Primehouse New York, the new B.R. Guest steakhouse on Park Avenue South that's mostly about size. The place seats almost 300 -- more in warm weather. The bull is real, weighs 2,500 pounds, lives on a farm in Kentucky and cost the company $250,000.

A porterhouse for two, fathered by Prime, goes for $86.

Prime's the lure. Ornamentation isn't. The hostesses wear black. The plates are white. The three rooms are basically white, black and metallic. The oversize bar, decorated with a flat-screen TV, could be anywhere. The front dining area feels like a Chicago import. The mirrored back room could be an upscale apartment lobby in New Jersey.

Two of my guests had this exchange:

No. 1: I love it. It's not like other steakhouses.

No. 2: You mean no wood?

The only hint of color in the first dining room is the red Hawaiian sea salt sprinkled on the butter. In the back room, red EXIT signs reflect madly in the mirrors, an unintentional homage to Orson Welles and ``The Lady From Shanghai.'' One night four of us sat uncomfortably in a booth large enough for three and heard most of a PowerPoint presentation taking place behind a wine-bottle partition.

Neighborhood Joint

Manhattan in these parts is somewhat corporate and nondescript. Primehouse is in touch with the neighborhood.

Downstairs is the ``Himalayan Salt Room.'' No, it's not a spa. According to a museum-style plaque, ``The Pink Himalayan Salt bricks you see in our dry aging room are over 250 million years old.'' (Now you know: Brick-making is the oldest profession.)

The classic menu offers 11 different steaks, some with confusing and meaningless regional designations -- Kansas City, Kentucky, Park Avenue South, New York. Ignore them.

The toughest decision is deciding on the number of days of aging you prefer -- zero, ``lite'' (5-7), 28, 35, 40 or 65. Aging presumably increases tenderness and tang, but I can't say the ``Himalayan Salt Room'' is an unqualified success. Only the 65-day rib-eye had the elusive and much-desired minerality.

Still, the meat from Prime's issue is gorgeous, consistent and beefy (even if it appears to resist aging and is not quite as marbled and flavorful as I would have hoped). The kitchen cooks the steaks perfectly and adds a nice char.

Tableside Service

A plus, mostly for entertainment value, is tableside service for Caesar salads and steak tartare.

The salad is nicely done, whichever version you choose -- basic, with white anchovies, or with crab-cake croutons. Unfortunately, the romaine tastes as though it traveled from California in cellophane. The tartare is beefy but bland.

``We witnessed a lot of meaningless mincing,'' one of my guests remarked.

Easily the best appetizer is the crab cake. It's creamy, a bit spicy and proficiently assembled, the lumps remaining whole. The only appetizer to skip is the cooked oysters, which define the term ``half-baked.'' They're warmed just enough to lose their briny zip.

Side dishes are OK. The creamed spinach is actually spinach in cream, an overly moist preparation. The ``old school'' hash browns are greasy, which means the charred bits are great, the rest soggy. I liked the ultra-gooey macaroni and cheese, but if you're from the South, you won't.

Jolly Waiters

Servers are incredibly friendly, bordering on jolly. They're true believers in the legend of the great bull, and they're masters of salesmanship when it comes to the extra-aged steaks: ``Only three left! Only a few in the house!'' Indeed, availability is limited. Not until my final visit was I blessed with the 65-day, 20-ounce, $62, bone-in rib-eye.

The wine list is just right, and the sommelier, Sean Josephs, knows his stuff. He must suffer, being a steakhouse sommelier. When I ordered a half-bottle of 2004 Vocoret Chablis Le Clos ($40), he beamed and said, ``I never sell whites. I might have 350 customers and sell three bottles a night.''

The best of the desserts, the souffles, come to the table towering artfully, and then your waiter dumps in a scoop of ice cream, transforming filigrees of sweet flavor into a puddle of mush. This ritual, now commonplace, must make pastry chefs weep. Other desserts are superior to those at most steakhouses but suffer from an emphasis on heft.

Prime is some busy bull, singlehandedly spawning offspring for two oversize restaurants, this one and, in Chicago, David Burke's Primehouse (166 seats). Another plaque downstairs describes the big fella as a ``Premium Black Angus senior herd sire.'' To me he's just a hard-working, above-average guy.

The Bloomberg Questions

Cost? Prices range from $9 for squash soup to $86 for a porterhouse for two.

Sound Level? You'll be leaning in to hear, because these are totally hard-surfaced rooms.

Date Place? The perfect setting to look into one another's eyes and discuss collateralized debt obligations.

Inside Tip? B.R. Guest restaurants do a particularly impressive job with Spanish wines. Try the 2003 Laurona Montsant ($65), a blend from the owners of Clos Mogador.

Special Feature? Play ring toss with your bagel-like ciabatta rolls and your horseshoe-weight onion rings. Both come to the table on pegs.

Private Room? Yes.

Lunch? Yes.

Will I be back? Probably not, although the crab cake with Le Clos is a lure.

Primehouse New York is at 381 Park Avenue South at 27th Street. Information: +1-212-824-2600; http://www.brguestrestaruants.com

(Alan Richman is a restaurant critic for Bloomberg News. The opinions expressed are his own.)

To contact the writer of this story: Alan Richman at thecritic@optonline.net.

Last Updated: November 28, 2007 00:04 EST