While you’re browsing the menu, your server might shimmer over bearing a lacquered box, which opens to reveal gustatory treasures arranged as if for a Flemish still-life: a gracefully long-limbed Icelandic langoustine, a few extra-special cuts of beef. One of those steaks, so tightly filigreed with white fat that it glows like rose quartz, is a cross-breed of Spanish dairy cow and Japanese Wagyu which is available, our server assured us, only at the Eighty-Six—a triumph of sourcing for the chef, Michael Vignola, Catch Group’s culinary director and a bona-fide meat nerd. I was, for my sins, dining with a vegetarian, and twenty ounces felt too ambitious to tackle alone, so I went instead for the New York strip, served bone-in. The exterior, salted and peppered, crackled from a hard sear; the inside was tender pink from edge to edge. The sauces I’d ordered alongside were hardly necessary: an eggy, vinegar-tart béarnaise, and a wiggly, wobbly gelée-adjacent steak sauce made with veal demi-glace. I dipped my fries into them, at least, and enjoyed a whole phalanx of steak-house sides: garlicky spinach; butter-laden mashed potatoes; a strikingly photogenic creamed-corn potpie with a swirly croissant top; snappy green and yellow long beans, dressed in a sharp lemon vinaigrette that sliced through the density of the rest of the food.