A version of this post originally appeared on April 22 in our newsletter Eater Today. Sign up here to receive stories like this in your inbox. I recently had a longer-than-usual conversation with an old friend whom I keep running into at steakhouses. After brushes at Musso & Frank Grill (twice), Smoke House , and Little Dom’s (a spiritually steakhouse-adjacent Italian restaurant), a pattern became apparent: We both like restaurants with rib-eye, icy martinis, and red leather booths. “Why are you always out at steakhouses, dressed like Sharon Stone in Casino ?” he asked. It’s a good question. Why do I, an analytical, alternative-leaning writer who listens to experimental ambient music and buys organic lettuces at the farmers market every weekend, feel drawn to a setting that unapologetically celebrates power, masculinity, and excess?…