RPM knows what to do with a bone-in rib eye: dry-age it for 28 days, sear it until it develops a smoky char, then embellish it with nothing more than the granular crunch of gray sea salt. The waiter brings the meat with the bone intact like he’s working a dinner party for cavemen and not a bunch of suits paying $83 for the privilege of slicing into the buttery pink flesh. Regardless of your place on the evolutionary timeline, it’s 24 ounces of pleasure.