Smith & Wollensky (617) 423-1112 101 Arlington Street, Boston Open Sun–Thu, 4:30–11 p.m., and Fri–Sat, 4:30 p.m.–midnight AE, DC, Di, MC, Vi Full bar Valet parking, $14 External ramped access and elevators to all floors

This is the 16th Smith & Wollensky, a chain begun in 1977 by neither Smith nor Wollensky, but nevertheless increasingly the epitome of the American steak house. It’s a dining form that has much to criticize — excessive red meat, excessive portions, and excessive prices. And yet, when the occasion warrants excess, perhaps only the most superlative excess will do. And this what Boston’s Smith & Wollensky delivers.

Begin with the setting: four floors of the converted National Guard armory known as "the castle," and still richly decorated with military memorabilia, authentic quarter-sawn paneling, and false fireplaces in each of the turret rooms. Try to be seated in one of those, as they are prettier and less loud. All the dining spaces have different themes, and it’s fun to tour the restaurant, perhaps after the meal if one can still walk around comfortably.

Food begins with an excessive breadbasket. There’s mustard butter and sweet butter to put on pretzel bread (a soft roll with coarse salt), lavash (crispy flatbread with everything), corn sticks, French rolls, slices of raisin cake, and perhaps Irish soda bread.

Regular appetizers are $6 to $28, but it is hard to pass up the giant seafood bouquets at $46 and $95. Health foodists could probably stop right there, judging by our junior version, the "Richard Smith shellfish bouquet" ($46). This is two tiers of ice, from which we divided (three ways) a dozen tiny Malpeque oysters; a half-dozen even smaller raw clams; a heap of shelled cooked crab claws from a scallop shell; three whole Jonah-crab or stone-crab claws; half a chicken lobster; a dozen cooked mussels; and half a spider crab (which may have been decorative, but we ate it happily). With this came a lot of cloth-wrapped lemons, a green ginger sauce, a mustard sauce (excellent with mussels), and cocktail sauce. While you can get better oysters at Jasper White’s Summer Shack, and better clams sometimes elsewhere, the whole combination was impressive and delicious. We also had the tuna tataki ($15), a superb version of the sushi tuna just seared and served with an Asian-flavored salad.

Among the main dishes, steaks are priced in the $30 range, without side dishes. Most of the four cuts are offered in two sizes, but both sizes are too big anyway, and it would be foolish to resist the 55-ounce aged porterhouse for two ($88). It’s two inches thick, and enough for four people, but what you really want is to take the remainder home and have steak sandwiches and a barbecued bone later on. The aging is just right, deepening the flavor without introducing a gamy edge, and especially important on the filet side, which can be bland. This filet side is as flavorful as any steak you’ve ever had; the sirloin side is better, but a little chewier. The kitchen runs a little to the rare side (our waiter warned us), so order medium-rare for rare, medium for medium-rare, and so on.

The price is higher than it looks, because you’ll need side dishes. Of those, the baked potato ($6) was huge and served with real sour cream, but limp and soft-skinned, without the flaky quality of the true baked Idaho. I blame foil wrapping (or some other deviant technique), and advise the chain to study potatology. Sautéed wild mushrooms ($8) are a better job, although salty and not very wild — mostly shiitakes and supermarket types.

The fish of the day ("market price," ours $27.50) was wild striped bass. It wasn’t amazingly fresh in February, but it was good, and three bistro portions’ worth. Again, sandwiches and salads are about to improve in your home. Fish actually comes with two side dishes: mashed potatoes with chipotle chilies that looked orange and had an appealing barbecue flavor, and sautéed broccoli rabe that was a little overdone but entirely edible. A salsa topping was fresh but not impressive.

Desserts lack a single showstopper, but the wedge of chocolate cake ($10) still turns heads for its sheer size; it’s perhaps 10 inches long, five inches high, and four inches wide at the outside. This is not a sand wedge, more like something you would use to block a truck tire on a hill. What’s more amazing is that the cake has a strong chocolate flavor and two strongly chocolate frostings.

The "S&W 6 Shooter" ($8) is titled to reach the Second Amendment crowd, but actually is a dessert for more delicate types, with three sorbets and three ice creams in tall, thin "shooter" glasses. Get the joke? The ice creams are convincingly creamy vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. The sorbets are peach or mango, raspberry, and (I think) lemon, again quite good.

The wine list is as overwrought as the menu, with 500-plus bottles, many quite expensive. The trick in my view is to order unconventionally, like our Bedell Cellars 2000 Merlot ($54). The unconventional part is that this wine comes from Long Island, which turns out to have an outstanding climate for merlot, producing wines with qualities approaching those of the best right-bank Bordeaux. The Bedell had plenty of intense fruit flavor and acidity, with earthier undertones. The glasses were big enough, although not the most extravagantly oversized, but the wine itself was truly memorable. With dessert we had some Quady "Essensia" ($11), a fortified orange muscat from California that was more familiar but equally outstanding. Iced tea ($3) is actually brewed; cappuccino ($4.30) and decaf ($3.20) were fresh and strong.

Service, by waiters in two-person teams, is quite good, but in such a large restaurant not a lot gets to the table at the peak of hot-and-fresh. Having the menu in picture frames is fun for most people; many will want it as a souvenir. The atmosphere is big-occasion, and the crowd is surprisingly young for the price structure. Most rooms get pretty loud and reservations have been surprisingly difficult, although we were fine at an early hour on a Friday night, on a couple days’ warning. There’s plenty to look around at if you don’t want to wait at the bar and run up an even bigger tab.

My friend of 30 years, Mark Devlin, author of the 1985 memoir Stubborn Child, left this life last week. Mark struggled with many demons, but always tried to be a good friend to me, and one culinary result was that he invited me to review a meal at the Pine Street Inn for this column. The food was good, but the atmosphere had a sense of gloom and loss that the determined staff could not overcome. Mark fought that undertow until he couldn’t, and so reminds us that all pleasure, even that of food, is fleeting, and must be treasured in its moment.

Robert Nadeau can be reached at RobtNadeau@aol.com.