Bavette’s is everything a steakhouse should be right now. Its alluringly moody interior allows for the transference of whatever vibe you’re demanding from the place—exquisitely fancy, stylishly downtown, date-night romantic. Its steaks range from the merely excellent (a New York strip, a study in meaty simplicity) to the transcendent (the magnificent 22-ounce bone-in ribeye, dry-aged for 60 days to a pronounced funkiness and marbled with satiny fat). Its sides embody just the right amount of excess, all cream and fat without teetering into gluttony. Its desserts, like a pitch-black chocolate cream pie in a crumbly Oreo crust, come in surpringly sane portions. And its accommodating servers will refill your basket of airy house-made sourdough before you’ve even realized you’ve finished it and will never let your bourbon-and-lime Lion’s Tail cocktail rest empty for long. It’s the steakhouse of the moment. And by all indications it’ll be the steakhouse of the future, too.