It is probably unfair to House of Prime Rib that it is classified in all of the guidebooks as a steakhouse. The proof that it isn’t a steakhouse is right in the name, “House of Prime Rib.” Because that is what is offered. Thin cut, thick cut, huge cut, but all prime rib. Once you accept that you are going to be eating prime rib, you can sit back, relax and enjoy the show, which includes an unwieldy serving cart with what appears to be a 75 watt bulb stuck to it on the inside.
The prime rib is cooked English style: coated in salt and slow roasted. So in addition to liking prime rib, you’d better like the taste of salt. I do, especially when accompanied by Yorkshire pudding. The other sides (spinach and corn which appear to be out of some three year old’s nightmare) are forgettable, but the salad, which is included with all dinners, is exceptionally tasty and fresh. The bread is so amazing it could impede your ability to eat the rest of your meal.
Martinis were mixed at the table by the waiter. And while the presentation is cute, the drinks were served in their shakers with ice. This way is a terrible thing to do to a decent gin (or even a vodka) martini. And because you can nurse the increasingly watery martini throughout, you may never get to the pricey wine list, a sin in itself.
Service is cheerful and the room is warm, if unbelievably noisy. So in addition to liking prime rib and salt, you’d better like yelling “What?” to your companions.