By MERIDITH FORD
Journal Restaurant Critic

PROVIDENCE -- For a moment I thought I was in Manhattan, until I noticed the front wall. It's covered with gilded framed pictures of Providence mayors, from Samuel W. Bridgham to David R. Cicilline.

They were a dead giveaway. Otherwise, the vibe at Providence Prime, a new steak house next door to sister restaurant Providence Oyster Bar, is that of a vibrant eatery that could make it as easily on Park Avenue as on Atwells.

Granted, part of that is the chi-chi decor -- a mix of dark, manly red woods and sensuous painted glass with cozy cocoa-colored banquettes flanking one side of the space while a seamless, almost undulating bar flanks the other.

But the other part is just plain 'tude. This place has got it by the gob full: positive, upbeat and ready to prove itself.

But even if owners Frank DiBiase and Michael Degnan wanted to rest on their laurels, they've got enough green wreaths to go around. Providence Oyster Bar, focusing on mostly fresh seafood, has established itself as one of the most popular spots in the state. Now, the owners have set their sights on beef.

Upscale steak and chop houses like Providence Prime have been making a comeback for several years now, especially in New York. Unlike their '70s chain-restaurant counterparts, most in the new genre are decidedly upscale, with chic bistro-style atmospheres and lots of prime beef served up a la carte however you want it cooked. Go-withs usually include bigger-than-your-head potatoes, chopped salads and a selection of sauces. There's no room for frou-frou here. If you want green vegetables and mache, go somewhere else.

That also is the emphasis at Providence Prime, where waiters parade an oval platter of pretty pink-and-marbled steak cuts -- from 14-ounce filets to 20-ounce bone-in rib eyes -- the way cigarette girls used to hawk smokes.

The operative word here is prime. The reason it shows up a lot, and as part of a restaurant's name in particular, is because prime is the highest grade of beef available in the United States. Until recently it was usually only a restaurant or the swankiest butchers who could get it. Even now, many supermarkets carry choice, not prime, cuts of beef.

What it means is that the meat will be -- or at least should be -- beautifully marbled and layered with fat, which makes it tender, juicy, and unbelievably flavorful.

The lady's cut rib eye at Providence Prime is just that. Lady's cut is a smaller, 16-ounce portion of meat with the bone cut out. It came highly recommended by the waitstaff, and for good reason: it is a beautifully grilled piece of meat, dripping with juice and tender enough to cut with ordinary flatware, although you'll be armed upon its arrival at the table with a knife big enough to slay a dragon.

But I'm way ahead of myself.

Attentive, hands-on service

Things actually started with our waiter, who was attentive beyond reason -- and he seemed that way with every table.

He knew the menu like the back of his hand. He knew exactly how a piece of meat was cut. He knew what wines to suggest. In short, he knew the philosophy that makes a restaurant such as Prime work: attentive, hands-on service that charges the atmosphere with just enough electric verve to make you feel like a VIP -- mixed with excellent food.

The likes of classic steak tartare are not often seen in Providence. And if I had tried nothing else on Prime's menu, this buttery smooth, rich-flavored mound of raw beef would have been worth the trip.

First of all, unlike nearly everything else on Prime's menu, the portion size was almost delicate.

Executive chef Larry Solitro serves it classically with toast points, chopped egg, onion and salty capers with a drizzle of a Balsamic vinegar reduction -- the meat itself seasoned with nothing more than lemon oil, onion and salt and pepper. It's so velvety, it melts in the mouth like a dab of salted butter.

Crab cocktails are making their way onto lots of Providence menus, and Prime follows suit with a timbale of large shreds of lump crab meat mixed simply with lemon oil and chopped chives, served up with a peppery-tasting creme fraiche.

One of my favorite steak house favorites is the comeback of salads made with iceberg lettuce. Banished from bistro menus for its lack of (dare I say it?) sensitivity, crunchy iceberg is a man's man sort of green, ready to take on the bulk of thick, rich bleu cheese or Thousand Island dressings instead of the drizzlings of some lightweight vinaigrette.

At Prime, the classic chop house "wedge" is back -- a hunk of iceberg, bleu cheese, bacon and tomatoes -- as well as other chopped house salads. It was hard to pass up a wedge salad. Often I wake at night craving one.

But our waiter recommended the oddly -- yet aptly -- named garbage salad, a concoction of chopped lettuce, beets, carrots, olives, bell peppers, onion, asparagus and tiny diced provolone cheese and salami. It's all dressed in a sturdy, tangy oil and red wine vinegar. Now I wake at night craving it.

'Selected entrees'

Even a steak-and-chop house has got to offer something other than meat. Prime knows this and has a section of the menu devoted to what it calls "selected entrees."

Basically, that means fish dressed up in the culinary equivalent of high heels and Chanel No. 5: tuna steak with pickled cucumber and red onion salad, swordfish with whipped potatoes and citrus sauce. Seared salmon was heartily portioned and garnished with leeks and eggplant, resting on a creamy, nutty-flavored pesto sauce.

Desserts reflect and complement the rest of the menu. In other words, if you want frilly sauces swirled around the plate, again -- go somewhere else. Okay, there is a creme brulee. But it's a sturdy vanilla-flavored creme brulee, not banana or mango or raspberry.

A real kick, especially if you were ever a Girl (or Boy) Scout, is the campfire s'mores. With the help of a very cute little brazier placed directly on the table, you can toast marshmallows, place them on top of a square of chocolate and squash them between two graham crackers.

Prime provides the fire, the skewers, the chocolate (although -- dang -- it's not Hershey's), the marshmallows and the graham crackers, along with a big plate. You provide the memories, the manpower and the mess.

And watch out -- competition between tables is fierce, with winning based on how much melted marshmallow ends up on your face.

At the end of an evening, you will be very full and very satisfied. Inspired by marbled meats and man-sized sweet potatoes, you may never eat frisee again.

Providence Prime, 279 Atwells Ave., Providence. 454-8881. Casually upscale. Reservations accepted. Wheelchair accessible. Smoking in bar area only. Open Mon-Thu 5 p.m. to midnight, Fri-Sat 5 p.m. to 2 a.m. V, MC, AM. Free valet or on-street parking. Highchairs and booster seats available.

Appetizers and steak-house salads are $5.50 to $14.95; soups are $4.75 to $5.95. Selected entrees are $18.95 to $24.95. A la carte steaks are $22.95 to $43.95 (all cuts are 10 ounces, most are between 20 and 36 ounces). Potatoes and other sides are $3.95 to $6.95. Desserts are $5.50 to $8.50.

The wine list has a well-rounded by-the-glass selection as well as a wide range of bottles, especially Italian and Californian selections. Bottles range from $24 to $325, with most in the $30-to-$70 range.