Country club nostalgia, antlers and all

I don’t quite get the connection, but I guess if you want to give your restaurant a name to signal that it’s American, what could be more American than “Lincoln”? In fact, the entrepreneurs behind Paladar and the Ivar in Hollywood, not to mention Tengu in Westwood, could just as easily have named their new Santa Monica steakhouse “Sinatra” or “Dean.” It’s a Rat Pack kind of place.

Unfortunately, the crowd at Lincoln may be too clean-cut to make it work. Somehow I get the impression these are all upstanding citizens dressed up like bad boys and girls for a night out. Everybody looks so much alike they could have the same stylist. It’s smooth, long hair for the women, everything tight-fitting and black, and, where plausible, pants that ride so low the wearer is constantly tugging her top down. For the men, it’s long-sleeved shirts, Italian cotton, rolled up to show off beefy watches.

The menu from chef James Grey is generic steakhouse with only a couple of updated options. His cooking was much more interesting at both Union and Les Deux Cafes. I notice people tend to stare at the menu for a long time, probably looking for something that sounds more intriguing than shrimp cocktail and chopped vegetable salad, an iceberg wedge or split pea soup. Actually, I might have ordered the last one except that it was too warm that night.

I imagine they’re selling a lot of the blue crab/avocado fritters. They’re different, at least. In fact, the shrimp cocktail is pretty good, if you’re wily enough not to load up on the cocktail sauce -- it packs an unbelievable wallop of horseradish.

The a la carte steaks are simply listed by cut, no telling if they’re prime or not. When I asked, the waiter could only say the beef was certified Angus, which could mean either grade. Or maybe I couldn’t hear her clearly over the din. The Kobe flatiron steak may not be the best Kobe beef I’ve ever had, but it’s worth ordering for the baked polenta laced with blue cheese. Halibut, blackened salmon and striped bass round out the selections.

I loved a side of braised turnip greens -- couldn’t get enough of them, in fact -- but the buttermilk mashed potatoes were watery. Next time I’d go for the maple mashed sweet potatoes or the Brussels sprouts.

Lincoln’s signature dessert is a big peanut butter and chocolate chip cookie baked to order in a small iron skillet. Excruciatingly sweet, it’s topped with a ball of ice cream the size of a softball and a cloud of whipped cream equally grandiose.

I was left wondering, why open a place with such an uninspired menu? Then I got it. It’s nostalgic country club fare. Even the decor, such as it is, has a homely, dated look in keeping with the theme: bronze foil wallpaper, sconces that look like the bottoms of your grandmother’s cut-crystal candlesticks, an antler chandelier.

Come to think about it, Lincoln does have the feeling of a private club where everybody knows everybody. It’s a Westside tribal thing.

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Lincoln

Where: 2460 Wilshire Blvd., Santa Monica

When: Dinner 6 to 10:30 p.m. daily; bar open to 2 a.m. Full bar. Valet parking.

Cost: Appetizers, $7 to $18; entrees, $20 to $36

Info: (310) 828-2217