Kobe Raises the Steaks

Many steak house customers subscribe to Fran Lebowitz's notion that "Vegetables are interesting but lack a sense of purpose when unaccompanied by a good cut of meat." Not to worry: Vegetables here respond to their high calling, especially velvety creamed corn comprising crunchy-fresh kernels spiked with sake, white pepper, black truffles, and truffle oil. The cuisine is overly dependent on that last ingredient, though — the kitchen crew must pour enough of the stuff each night to grease up a team of sumo wrestlers.

All meals start with rapturously warm, custardy popovers perfumed with Parmesan and, yes, truffle oil. Desserts are considerably less inspiring. The meringue of a baked Alaska, piped to resemble a beehive, was fittingly filled with honey-almond ice cream but was frozen to a rock-hard state. And dark pearls of "chocolate caviar" served with mini pancakes and raspberry-tinted mousse works better on paper than palate.

Not everyone will be infatuated with Kobe Club's fatty Wagyu and fat-cat prices, but steak aficionados will surely enjoy the show.