'Lowest common denominator, crowd-pleasing, sugary-carb, frequently infantilised food at leg-opener prices'
Our greeter is so chirpy, I feel compelled to reply in kind. "Nice table," I burble, "thank you."
"Yes," she beams happily at the gal-pal and me (the place's lingua franca is infectious), "I thought you laydeez'd enjoy sitting between two tables of men."
We are in STK, a steakhouse in the shimmering new Me Hotel, a multimillion-pound dazzler attached to the Marconi building on the Strand. And something of a parallel universe, where every night is party night.
"It's very busy," I venture.
"Oh, you should come at the weekend – everyone dances on the tables!" Hold me back.
Finding tables of men to seat us between in this penumbral, Ibiza nightclub of a room is a cinch: there are lots of them, suited and bellowing and radiating pheromones. Which is curious, since STK is branded – oafishly – a "female-friendly steakhouse" with, er, sassy straplines such as Not Your Daddy's Steakhouse. Perhaps it's a marketing masterstroke by owners The One Group: tell everyone you're targeting the ladies with an ad that looks like a softcore, Addicted To Love version of Boots' Here Come The Girls, then serve up hunks of grilled cow and whaddya get? Possibly actual evil genius.
A beautiful young server talks us through the menu. All of the menu. My paying-attention expression is stretched to its limits. It's very nouveau American, all grills and raw bar; things such as "Lil Brgs" – two pingpong ball-sized wagyu burgers stacked up with cheese, tomato and foie gras (the upselling of luxe extras is rife) – which, although impossible to eat like an actual burger, are the best things we try all evening. They come in at 15 quid, so £7.50 each for a patty that lasts as long as a hiccup.
Nothing we eat is worth its hefty price tag. A "salad" features slimy, over-balsamiced grilled radicchio, decent prosciutto and "house-smoked bocconcini", which translates as rubbery little dollops of bog-standard mozzarella that are strangers to the smoker. A steak – USDA prime sirloin, apparently – tastes only of char. If we hadn't been upsold stilton topping and horseradish sauce, perhaps it might have stood a chance. We've also added truffle and parmesan fries – thick, pallid jobs with a sweaty veneer of truffle oil – and a fine mac and cheese. I order a plate of veal bits, including almost-raw kidney, mealy white and black pudding, sweetbread and liver, on the strength of the billed tobacco onions. Mmm, crisp, addictive tobacco onions. I can't find them among the baby animal charnel house. The meat has clearly been axe-murdered by its "meatpacker" sauce, which appears to be vinegary BBQ with loads of shallot. I could be eating horse. Our server is delighted: "You're the first laydee who ever ordered this."
A Taste Of The Fairground finishes with a flourish. It looks impressive – marshmallows and popcorn and dull little doughnuts on a kinda ferris wheel – but it joins the rest of the lowest common denominator, crowd-pleasing, sugary-carb, frequently infantilised food (a "prawns rice krispies" bisque thing that snaps, crackles and pops) at leg-opener prices. Apologies for my lack of subtlety: it goes with the territory. I think we all know what's on offer here. As the pal scans the room, she says, "Everyone in here looks like they're heading for a threesome."
This is the kind of joint that calls itself a "scene". There are many YouTube videos of STK branches in New York and LA. Kardashians and Scherzingers and something called The Situation pour out of limos. In the Las Vegas outpost, STK offers $30,000, diamond- or sapphire-encrusted steak knives for exclusive celebrity use. As the DJ cranks the Eurythmics' Sweet Dreams up to 11 and lights dim in the heaving, clubby room so we can no longer see what's on our plates, the penny drops: it's a theme restaurant. And the theme is Sex And The City circa 1999. Everyone here is loving it, so what do I know? STK is a couple of vowels short of doing it for this lil' laydee.
• STK 336-337 The Strand, London WC2, 020-7395 3450. Open all week, noon-1am (midnight on Sun). Three-course meal, £50 upwards, plus drinks and service.
Food 4/10
Atmosphere 4/10 (if you like this sort of thing)
Value for money 2/10