The purpose of the steakhouse is to make you feel like the top carnivore on all of planet Earth, both in terms of scoring the finest red, red meat, and also in terms of scoring social privilege over the other bipeds. No place pulls this off better than Manny's. It's not just the steak, though we could go on all day about the excellent, deep, thunderous, winey, concentrated, specially cut dry-aged beef Manny's serves. It's also the social theater: There you are, in a dining room bursting with some of the best, biggest, hugest, giantest, most prestigious bottles of wine in all the world. All around you are captains of business, real estate, and industry, and their dates. Then, along comes your server. He rolls up a cart of steaks, chops, and, often, lobsters that are probably altogether worth more than your first car. He displays them to you, with a little song and dance about the excellence of each. You select your victims from the cart and tuck into either your perfectly poured cocktail or your bottle of well-aged wine that is more than likely never ever seen except inside the homes of obsessive wine collectors. How do you feel? Like a million bucks. Like the winner of everything. Like the top carnivore, the top predator, the top of the top of the top. It is that exact moment in time that makes Manny's the greatest steakhouse.