OUR REVIEW OF BOB'S STEAK & CHOP HOUSE

No... with all due respect to food gurus of the ‘70s and ‘80s, America is not living healthily on a seafood-based diet patterned (as one genius predicted) on a cross between the Japanese and the Eskimo. Personally, I was none too happy to describe that future in news stories back in the day, and pleased as can be each time I get to report that it never happened. I love a good steak now and again, and since I define such steak nights as special occasions, I’m at peace with the high cost of placing such pleasures in my life.

In this space, I have chronicled the Houston arrivals of classy imports like Strip House, Fleming’s and Morton’s, as well as the success of homegrown concepts like Perry’s and Tilman Fertitta’s over-the-top Vic and Anthony’s. This month, there’s a third type of genesis to report: a place born in Texas (as in Dallas) that tested the waters out in San Francisco before looking south. Loyal Houstonians would say Bob’s Steak & Chop House wanted to practice on San Francisco’s worldly diners till they were good enough to open here.

And open here Bob’s did, finagling its way into a beloved landmark, no less. The space on Post Oak long occupied by Tony Vallone’s magical tony’s had been declared a “no restaurant zone,” primarily to avoid parking problems that had scared off upscale retail shoppers during lunch. Even at tony’s, it seems, food and drink couldn’t bring in as much revenue as jewelry, furs and fashion. Still, once the last vestige of Vallone’s culinary xanadu had decamped to its new Greenway Plaza location, lawyer Ed Toles talked the landlords into letting him bring in Bob’s. After all, the lawyer argued, Bob’s would open only for dinner, when all those high-end boutiques were closed. Even during the holidays, he pointed out persuasively - ever the lawyer. Bob’s was in.

Happily, for diners fearing not so much the old catering division called “tony’s at home” but something we’ll dub “tony’s all over again,” the fact that the space had been scrubbed clean for a hoped-for retail meant that Toles and Co. had little to tear down. Just as tony’s itself was overdue the fresh, chic, lighter and more youthful look its new location delivered, Bob’s was able to reconfigure and redecorate those regal old rooms into the traditional dark wood of the modern upscale beefery. Beyond that, quite frankly, the project verged on paint-by-the-numbers. Short, simple menu printed on card stock. Classic American steakhouse fare, with only the occasional dollop of innovation.

Enticing bar. Super wine list. With those things in place, Bob’s Steak & Chop House was ready for Houston. And according to the crowds shaking hands, slapping backs, kissing cheeks and visiting table to table on any given evening, the Houston that remembered tony’s best was more than a little bit ready for Bob’s.

With a few exceptions, success as a modern steakhouse isn’t about what you invent but how you serve it. It would be difficult to point to a single selection on Bob’s menu that was “invented” here, or even at the mother ship in Dallas. On the other hand, many things are done exceedingly well, and that’s more what we the people are looking for. Portions of things tend toward the large, as do those things themselves: both the light, fluffy onion rings and the “Maryland-style” crabcakes were bigger than found in nature, and the shrimp appetizer is best enjoyed as a shareable trio of spicy cocktail, pungent remoulade and crisp batter-fried. There’s a soup of the day – often lobster bisque, the epitome of a heavy French cream soup – and some wonderful if cheese-crazed salads. As someone observed, the bleu cheese salad gives you only enough lettuce to shovel lots of bleu cheese into your mouth, while even the usually light tomato and red onion came with a generous snowfall of – more bleu cheese. The dairy industry must be very proud.

Once you steer (get it?) past the filet mignon in three increasing ounce counts, you reach the serious steaks, several of which arrive bone-in, which makes for much better flavor and a more thrilling presentation built on Flintstones déjà vu. Best bets include the Kansas City strip in 18 or 22 ounces (some of that being bone, remember?) and the 22-ounce “cote de boeuf,” a pumped-up rendition of ribeye. There’s a nifty rack of lamb at Bob’s, plus the now-mandatory and thankfully not-overcooked chops of pork and veal. Seafood lovers, a class once alleged to include Japanese and Eskimos, have to get by on crabcakes, two kinds of shrimp, broiled salmon and a fish of the day, often the overly familiar and occasionally over-fished Chilean sea bass. If you really want to eat seafood in a steakhouse, I’d recommend instead Bob’s broiled lobster tail from south Australia.

In a welcome touch, exemplary potatoes are included with your entrée - letting that intolerable $6 to $9 upcharge be spent on your dessert. Beware, though: the brownie as wide as a roof shingle (OK, so it WAS a double portion!) topped with Reese’s peanut butter cup ice cream, and the moist, flavorful side of carrot cake might remind you of the Flintstones as well. It’s a little-known historical fact that dinosaurs, like Houstonians, had quite the sweet tooth!