But get past the licentious imagery and Strip House is a surprisingly chaste act. Without Rockwell's magic, and the imprimatur of executive chef David Walzog, the limited menu would not draw a glance. The place is so design-driven, the food and service might as well be footnotes. Like a broken radio, the sound track lurches from rock to New Age to rap. The staff, too, drift.
Servers mix up dishes.
One bill included two bottles of the Havens, although we had only one. On another, we were charged for a side dish that, though ordered, never actually came. Broiler meats are proud cuts, juicy and accurately done. If everything here was as good, I'd eat nowhere else for a month. Spearing the cake balls with a long fork was fun.