Back in the day, supper clubs were bastions of refined over-consumption, where diners idly basked in food, drink, and entertainment with no concern whatsoever about making it home to watch Jack Hanna milking an ocelot's prostate (or, an "ocelostate"). Aiming to bring that magic back, Ocean Prime, open today
Across from the Crescent, Ocean's a "Modern American Supper Club" boasting forests of deeply polished dark wood, yellow & blue mood lighting, a "water wall" opposite a gas flame sandwiched in glass, a dual-fireplace'd terrace, and a lounge bookended by a sparkling back-lit bar and a tickled-nightly baby grand, plus four private rooms named Frank, Sammy, Dean, and the Club Room (50 years later, you're still sucking it, Peter Lawford). The menu's centered around updated classic surf & turf, e.g. blackened snapper w/ wilted spinach & corn jalapeno tartar, Asiago/roasted tomato cream Alaskan king crab ravioli, a seasoned 12oz filet broiled at 1,200Â°F to ensure juiciness, and a build-your-own-main option allowing for dozens of meat/topping combos; additional filling comes via eight starches (from jalapeno potatoes au gratin to latkes) and 10 sides, from truffled mac to asparagus in hollandaise, totally pulling an Eggs Benedict Arnold. Classy discombobulation comes courtesy of cocktails like the Gent Jack/Hennessy/honey/OJ/lime "Whiskey Clover" and the Belvedere Citrus/Domaine Chandon Brut/sour/blackberry "Berries & Bubbles", plus a 900-bottle, glass-encased wine vault -- doubly like General Zod's prison, in that it'll quickly have you mispronouncing "Houston"
Because why wouldn't you, dessert can be had in the form of bonus fatness (pie w/ chocolate ganache/peanut butter mousse, "Ten Layer Carrot Cake"), or booze off the "Fine Sipping" menu: seven cognacs (Courvoisier VS, Louis XIII), 11 Scotches (Macallan 18 to Dalwhinnie), and 10 ports/dessert wines from Fonseca to Graham's 40yr -- a milestone that should have you thinking about Hanna, and when you can fit him in.