Sides include completely tasteless asparagus and a “baked and loaded” potato, chunky with beef stroganoff, a messy, delicious orgy of a spud that could pass for an entrée. The loose-textured ribeye cap, splashed with signature “beefed-up butter” (which includes beef drippings, garlic, wine and herbs) is vastly superior: more char, less chew, but I find myself longing for a straightforward crusty-edged ribeye from good old Don & Charlie’s (defunct, alas) at less than half the price. I’ve eaten dry-aged steaks at plenty of steakhouses over the years, but I’ve never had one that struck me as “funky” before, but maybe I’ve forgotten this acquired taste.

Worse still, it presents a slightly off, gamey flavor that might be attributed to dry-aging, which the menu doesn’t mention for this particular cut. Worse, The Eisenhower doesn’t boast the gorgeous crust you’d expect from a slab of meat cooked directly in the coals. When they do arrive, they’re not sizzling or even hot. Good thing we’ve eaten enough to tide us over for a while because our steaks – a 40-ounce porterhouse, cooked directly in the coals and called The Eisenhower and a special off-menu ribeye cap – are no-shows for nearly an hour. They’re decent, but nowhere near as swoon-worthy as any pasta dish at Andreoli Italian Grocer or Tratto, where you’d get more for less. Our server also brings us a half-order of truffle-scented ricotta agnolotti, which amounts to five pasta “pillows of love,” according to the menu.

As it turns out, we’re not pining for more: too much salt, faintly mushy lobster meat, nothing as luscious as we’d anticipated. Our conscientious server, who must have thought we’d gone off the ordering deep end, brought out a single order instead of the tower-for-two we thought we’d ordered, so there were only two shrimp, two clams, two oysters, one scallop and one lobster tail. M&A’s oven-roasted spin on the chilled seafood tower served all over town involves garlic butter, chile oil and a 900-degree coal-fired oven. Meanwhile, the glossy, greenish-brown caviar is mild-tasting and more soft-textured than the brinier osetra (farm-raised and similarly priced) that bursts in the mouth at Binkley’s. Although I love the la-di-da presentation, most of the blini are so undercooked they’re still wet at the center. Kaluga caviar, a farm-raised freshwater variety said to capture the essence of critically endangered (and therefore illegal) Beluga caviar, arrives in its 1-ounce tin on a footed silver caviar dish atop a silver tray rimmed with tiny bowls of sour cream, hard-cooked egg yolk, crêpe-like blini, and minced egg white and potato gaufrettes (think waffle chips). This wouldn’t happen at, say, Roka Akor down the street, where Kusshis are a tad pricier but handled with care. Another three or four have been carelessly tipped on their sides, causing the oyster liquor to spill out. The oysters themselves are lovely, but they’ve been poorly shucked and a handful of them contain bits of shell.

To begin, we order a dozen plump, creamy Kusshi oysters on the half shell, accompanied by agreeably sharp Champagne mignonette and horseradish-zippy cocktail sauce. We dither over the wine list while munching, and are not impressed: It’s lengthy enough, but offers precious few decent bottles for less than $200. The meal gets off to a wonderfully welcoming start, however, with a complimentary gin-based cocktail, served in a dainty stemmed glass, and plates of nibbles, including salami, breakfast radishes with butter and fresh mint, candied pecans and crusty house-made bread.

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