The Bungalow Restaurant

The Bungalow walks a careful line between old-school steakhouse gravity and coastal irreverence. Dark wood paneling, leather booths, white tablecloths and low lamps make the room feel private even when it is not. The steaks are taken seriously here, charred crusts giving way to a buttery, near-silky interior; seafood arrives confident, not fussy. Bartenders prod a martini to the edge of cold so it snaps on the tongue. On weekend nights the room rises into a convivial roar, every fork and laugh amplified by the place's timbered bones. Service moves with practiced choreography, efficient and unshowy. Come at lunch or a weekday early evening if you want a conversation; come later if you want to be part of the din. The wine list is a small obsession, running into the hundreds of bottles, and the martini glass leaves a cold ring on the napkin.