May I introduce your steak?

DOWNTOWN L.A. has quietly become a mecca for those who like their steak prime. Pacific Dining Car has worn the mantle for more than 80 years (and is still the only place to go when you get a craving for Porterhouse at 3 a.m.). Add Nick & Stef’s, another branch of the Palm, and now this Arnie Morton’s, not to mention hotels trying to horn in on the idea, and downtown L.A. is awash in steak.

Arnie Morton’s is part of a chain known as Morton’s of Chicago everywhere but in L.A. The “Arnie” was added here in an attempt to avoid confusion with Morton’s, the West Hollywood entertainment industry hangout owned by Arnie Morton’s daughter and son.

The fact that the original is a Chicago institution has always given Arnie Morton’s a certain cachet. Chicago loves to eat and eat well. Dainty doesn’t fly in Chicago. When Spago opened there several years ago, Wolfgang Puck had to adjust the portion size dramatically upward.

At Arnie Morton’s everything is big -- and not just the steaks. It’s a trencherman’s paradise where rustic baskets are set around the room, as if someone just walked home from the farm with a harvest of beefsteak tomatoes as big as grapefruits, asparagus spears the size of Churchill cigars, and potatoes that look as if they’ve had implants. Red wines in oversized bottles -- magnums, double-magnums, jeroboams -- are disposed about the room for decoration. It’s a place where, guaranteed, you’ll never stare down a mingy portion wondering how a restaurant has the chutzpah to charge so much for so little.

Even so, quantity is not the issue; quality is -- at least, the quality of the steaks.

Arnie Morton’s real claim to fame is its super-aged prime beef cooked to a true rare (cool blue center) or medium rare (warm red center) in an incredibly hot 800-degree broiler. Even if you could find aged prime beef at your local market, it’s impossible to achieve that gorgeous charred crust at home. Hence the perennial popularity of the steakhouse.

A replica of itself

Like all chains, Arnie Morton’s offers the comfort of the familiar. Every locale resembles every other, distinguished with a photo gallery tailored to each locale. Here, it’s vintage photos of USC football stars running down the field, Howard Hughes in the cockpit and the obligatory stars.

Hidden in a glitzy mall, its doorway jutting out from a California Pizza Kitchen facade, the downtown Arnie Morton’s has the feel of a speak-easy. Frank Sinatra’s voice wafts up from the underground restaurant as you descend the staircase. Someone is there to greet you just in front of a wall of wine lockers, each bearing a brass name tag. They belong to regulars who buy wine from the restaurant at a 10% discount and store it there. Why? I haven’t a clue. Ten percent off this wine list is no bargain.

At the back, the broiler glows red. The meat sizzles. The room is Midwest clubby with leather booths, white linens and the restaurant’s signature bronze pig lamps on each table. The crowd is mostly businesspeople mixed in with tourists and the occasional big spenders on a date. The room doesn’t exactly reverberate with conversation. Everyone is too absorbed in eating.

The minute you sit down, a waiter brings a loaf of bread, warm from the oven. It’s about the size of those foil balloons you find stranded in trees. Airy and sweet, with a scattering of charred onions on top, it seems like bread from the ‘70s, before artisanal breads were an option.

Then comes what the steakhouse calls the “visual presentation of the menu,” unless you can think up an excuse to get out of the tedious exercise. The presenter rolls over a cart and soldiers through a tortuous monologue, holding up plastic-wrapped cuts of beef with all the aplomb of a wooden apprentice magician. Lamb chops, salmon, broccoli, beefsteak tomatoes all have their moment in the limelight. A somnolent lobster, though, misses its cue to wriggle vigorously.

The presentation ends with a breathless recital of desserts -- souffles, molten chocolate cake, apple pie -- that need to be ordered at the start of the meal. It’s a smart policy because, by the end of a steak, most people would have to plead no room.

Appetizers are as predictable as the array of steaks. There’s a fine shrimp cocktail, which is really four or five meaty shrimp on a plate with a crock of excellent horseradish-laced cocktail sauce. Caesar salad is limp and overdressed, spinach salad truly awful. Wise diners will stick with the humongous beefsteak tomato, sliced and strewn with chopped red onion and crumbled blue cheese. Though lobster bisque may seem like an iffy thing to order at a steakhouse, Arnie Morton’s does a lovely, albeit rich, version of the classic soup.

Morton’s best steaks are the New York sirloin strip and the Porterhouse, both long-aged to concentrate their flavor. The Porterhouse may be silkier in texture, but the New York strip is, hands down, the most satisfying.

Curiously, one night when I ordered the steak au poivre made with a New York strip, the beef wasn’t the same quality. The peppercorn sauce was delicious, though. Cajun steak, marinated either 16 or 60 hours, depending on which waiter is explaining the dish, takes a good rib-eye and turns it into a mushy piece of beef. What exactly are the spices? Our waiter could say only that the steak was marinated in “a whole lot of Cajun spices.”

The one thing you can count on at any of the Morton’s steakhouses I’ve tried is that the steaks are precision-cooked. At the downtown locale, this is not always the case.

One night, three steaks were cooked well beyond the medium-rare or rare ordered. And on another, two steaks were overcooked. When pointed out one night, though, the waiter was quick to offer to replace the steaks. And on a second try, they were cooked correctly.

And aside from beef ...

The menu does offer more than steak. Prime rib is a beautiful piece of beef, served in its juices. And thick double-cut lamb chops are terrific. Broiled salmon is nicely cooked, but Chicken Christopher is inedible. The chicken is quite ordinary, but the creamy sauce was so overdosed with garlic that no one wanted more than a bite.

The sides are uneven too. Baked potato or the buttered potato skins are the best choices. Those huge asparagus stalks arrive al dente and tough, not an ideal vehicle for the classic hollandaise. Broccoli is woody. They’re just the sort of vegetables that people who would rather eat steak would order: so they don’t have to think about vegetables again.

Desserts don’t offer much redemption. The souffles for two have a peculiar texture, more slippery than cloud-like. The Grand Marnier is passable, the chocolate a steep disappointment, tasting more like it was made with a spoonful of cocoa than top-notch chocolate. If you must have dessert, order the New York cheesecake, which is the real thing from the Bronx: simple and unadorned. And not too sweet.

To stand out in the crowded downtown steakhouse scene, Arnie Morton’s is going to have to give real attention not only to the quality of the steaks but also to how they’re cooked and to everything else.

*

Arnie Morton’s

Rating: *

Location: 735 S. Figueroa St.

(at 7th Street), Los Angeles, (213) 553-4566.

Ambience: Clubby downtown steakhouse with mostly business clientele.

Service: Overwrought. Who needs to meet the steak?

Price: Appetizers, $8 to $12; steaks and chops, $28 to $35; sides, $4 to $8; desserts, $8, and $13 for a souffle for two.

Best dishes: Jumbo shrimp cocktail, lobster bisque, sliced beefsteak tomato with blue cheese, prime rib, New York strip, double rib lamb chops, filet Diane, baked Idaho potato, potato skins, sauteed onions, cheesecake.

Wine list: Predictable steakhouse wine list with more than 80 overpriced California Cabernets or Meritage blends. Corkage, $15.

Best table: One of the semicircular booths along the walls.

Details: Open for lunch Monday through Friday, 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. Dinner daily, 5:30 to 10 p.m., and to 11 p.m. on Saturday. Full bar. Valet parking, $6.

Rating is based on food, service and ambience, with price taken into account in relation to quality. ****: Outstanding on every level. ***: Excellent. **: Very good. *: Good. No star: Poor to satisfactory.