After a slow, creaky ride to the fifth floor, the ancient elevator opens to the sounds of clinking glasses and a gravel-voiced piano player. With plush chairs, sumptuous linens and glittering chandeliers, this seductive hideaway is reminiscent of a private supper club circa 1925. Chef J.P. Challet offers a Gallic spin on the traditional steak house menu, catering to indulgent palates and fat wallets. Lobster seems to claw its way into just about every dish, including a composed salad of half a chilled tail and lightly dressed mâche with citrus segments and tapenade harmonizing the flavours. Centred on a brush stroke of saffron aïoli, a lightly seared puck of pure, sweet crabmeat is scented with just a whiff of ginger; it’s hard to imagine a better crab cake. Mains feature barely adorned hunks of well-prepared protein that require pricey sides to form a square meal. Thanks to its USDA prime pedigree, a perfectly grilled New York strip loin is packed with rich flavour; a cup of dark, satiny bordelaise sauce reinvents beef dip. Desserts keep pace with a boozy trifle of caramelized apples and vanilla sponge capped by a cloud of mascarpone cream. The concise wine list favours France and California. From a lost reservation to empty plates that languish on the table, the service is not worthy of the room’s old-time elegance or the kitchen’s precision. Mains $26–$59.