I tried the Capitol Grille tonight. It’s a new “fancy” steak house inexplicably built in the Oxmoor Mall parking lot. The niceness and newness of the building is marred by the errant Wendy’s bag in the mulch. The valets sit idle, facing a sea of empty parking spaces. Twin mirrored lions flank the door. The whole tableau evokes a sense of pretension that will be carried into the dining experience; on its face, The Capitol Grille wants you to believe that it is a classy, high end restaurant, but reality does not bear that out.

Inside, the decor makes one wonder if there exists some catalogue for restaurants where you can order the standard upscale steakhouse set, complete with bad paintings of celebrities, red walls and high gloss black trims, and the least compelling aspects of art deco. Servers wear ill-fitting grey jackets, their assistants decked out in all white.

We are walked through a bustling bar and taken to a dining room adjacent. A baby cries in the bar area. There are no booths in the dining room we are lead to, just an array of too many white table clothed tables. We’re sat awkwardly facing a wall, both of us with our backs to the room until we rearrange the table ourselves so that at least Ash has her back to the wall. Both dressed in black, we’re not offered black napkins.

Our server greets us looking somewhat ridiculous with an ipad turned toward us, where she is ready to pull up some kind of cocktail list while telling us about their Fiji water option. We decline both booze and bottled water, opting for diet cokes and regular old tap water.

The menu is, in a word, boring. There is not a single original idea or even compelling choice on the menu. It is without a doubt the most “by the book” steak house menu I’ve ever encountered. The only phrase that piques interest is the steak that comes with fig essence. I presume they let the steak rest in the vicinity of some figs before bringing it to the table. I order the field greens salad and the filet. Ash orders a Caesar and steak and lobster combo. Sides are for the table, and we choose mashed potatoes and creamed spinach.

A basket of assorted breads is brought to the table. It contains a fairly delightful range of options and is accompanied by salted butter that’s just a smidge too cold for spreading. The pumpernickel with golden raisins was the highlight.

The dining room fills up, and we are glad to have rearranged our table. A painting of William Conrad, the titular Fatman from “Jake and the Fatman,” leers at us.

The salads arrive quickly and are large enough to have split, but otherwise unremarkable. They are correctly served on ice-cold plates. The entrees come and are likewise unremarkable. Both steaks are overcooked, but mine is seasoned decently. Ash’s lobster tails are good, but her steak is under-seasoned. The sides are fine. Unremarkable. My glass sits unrefilled.

Ash gets coconut creme pie to go. I decide ice cream from the grocery is in my future.

Our bill after tip came out to a whopping 250 with no booze, no appetizers, and only one dessert. At that price point I’ve had much better meals. Even in the steakhouse milieu I’ve had much better for considerably less money. Le Moo, Stoney River, and Malone’s all beat this place in both food and price. At this check amount, I would have much preferred a meal at Jeff Ruby’s, where the food and service are always on point.