If you're like most of us, chances are your pockets are way too shallow to accommodate this temple of dead cow's hefty prices on any kind of regular basis. Plus, it's not at all unlikely that the pinstriped, cigar-puffing examples of Carnivorus Americanus who congregate in its clubby environs might run more than a bit too boisterous for your druthers. But if a well-heeled relative is picking up the tab (or you find yourself holding a winning Powerball ticket), Manny's celebrated dry-aged steaks, exhaustive wine list, and gargantuan desserts might be just what the doctor ordered--assuming the physician in question is either an oenophilic sabertooth or Robert Atkins's gluttonous twin.