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If you’re into rib-eyes, stiff drinks and big, mahogany booths, there’s no better style of restaurant than the New York steakhouse. I’ve had buckets of fun at Manhattan’s red-blooded meat joints, Keens and Gallaghers, served by ancient waiters three martinis gone (them and me), the table heaving with wrist-thick porterhouse, bearnaise and all the sides.

The only dud thing about New York’s steakhouses is that most of the food is unspeakably bad. Granted, the meat is usually fine – no better or worse than a fancy Queensland pub – but the shrimp cocktail will taste like cold rubber and the creamed spinach could be used to mortar bricks. You’re there for the history, vibe, booze and service.

Chefs Daniel Pepperell and Michael Clift are huge steakhouse fans, having visited Manhattan for a research trip with sommelier business partner Andy Tyson. They studied crab cakes, white jackets and caesar salad, and returned to open Clam Bar in Sydney’s CBD. Unlike an authentic New York grill, however, the food is highly delicious.

The team also runs Bistrot 916 in Potts Point and Surry Hills’ Pellegrino 2000, where French and Italian classics are wrought with new-wave energy; it’s a similar pitch here.

Six oysters, for example, are served with mignonette, as per steakhouse tradition ($30), or accompanied by ginger chipolatas and Vietnamese dipping sauce nuoc cham ($40). Eat cold oyster. Bite hot sausage. Order another glass of Georges Deschamps Chablis ($25).

You can find Clam Bar on the corner where Opera Brasserie once served steak frites and The Bridge Room was awarded three hats. The three-week-old restaurant is now gussied up with chandeliers, a few timber booths and Murano glass sconces. There are vintage Heinz posters and a beautifully lit, under-the-sea oil painting by artist Laura Jones. Full marks for the life-size tin marlin from Mexico. Few other dining spaces are equal parts cosy and slick.

If you’re not fussed about steak, seafood options abound, such as a fish fillet of the day – maybe cobia ($52) – and yellowtail tuna poke (yes, poke) with egg yolk and truffle ($26).

A very good prawn cocktail ($24) features poached tigers served with their detached heads on ice (suck out the head juice if that’s your thing).

Crab cakes (two for $36) are pan-fried and gently seasoned and come with aioli and ferociously crisp lettuce.

Clams are tossed through spaghetti with butter, garlic, chilli, white wine … and more garlic ($38).

Meat-wise, don’t miss the Barnsley chop. The centre cut of lamb ($52) is a signature at Keens in Manhattan, where it is grey and tastes of gristle. Clam Bar’s loin chop is rich, grassy and juicier than a New York Post gossip column. Team it with anchovy butter and the blue cheese-laced creamed spinach ($16) for optimal results.

The martini is Sydney’s best: super dry and made the with gin stored so far below zero it’s almost like syrup.

From the charcoal-grilled steak carte, there’s an intensely flavoured 350-gram New York strip ($60) that’s top value for sharing between two. A 600-gram rib-eye ($120) is too enthusiastically seasoned on one visit, but the natural, buttery taste fights through. Certainly, there are higher-grade steaks around town, but you’ll be paying a lot more for the privilege.

Sides are terrific and all cost $16. Highlights include a silky corn and gruyere gratin, thick-cut bacon and beef-fat potatoes that taste like the chips from your childhood.

For dessert, it’s hard to go past the house cheesecake ($19) but you should also consider the steamed maple-syrup pudding poised in a grilled pineapple custard with licorice ice-cream ($19). Sweet winter dreams are made of this.

My cocktail dreams, meanwhile, are realised with the martini ($25), which might be – no, it is – Sydney’s best: super dry and made the same way as those at Ian Fleming’s old local, Dukes London, with gin stored so far below zero it’s almost like syrup. The tiki-style Jungle Bird ($23), also a hoot, features dark rum, lime, pineapple juice and Campari. Service is excellent across the board.

Does the CBD need another place to blow a week’s grocery bill on giant hunks of cow? God, no. We already have Rockpool Bar and Grill, The Gidley, Bistecca, Chophouse, Kingsleys and the gaudy Botswana Butchery. But there’s always room for young, hungry restaurateurs determined to make the city a more exciting place to eat. New York could do with more steakhouses like Clam Bar, too.

This review was originally published in Good Weekend magazine