There comes a time in one's life where they know they’ve met the one. Usually unexpected, this moment produces a once-in-a-lifetime, eye-opening reflection that prepares you for a future with your beloved. Teary eyes (it’s not the onions) and a feeling of joy overwhelm the senses, while you realize all relationships (or mistakes) of the past must be nullified. When it comes to steakhouses, this can be a painful endeavour. No longer will you be able to tap The Keg for a sizzling night of prime beef, and of course you must officially break up with Ruth's Chris (try to avoid the drive-bys, or it’ll only increase the pain). Fortunately, Jacobs & Co. is worth severing all ties to your steakhouses of yore, and a committed future together equates to harmonious carnivore bliss.

Since the days of Roxy Blu, this Brant Street space has seen quite the urban renovation with the addition of the Brant House, and nearby Brassaii down on King. Subway and taxi transportation to the former nightspot has been replaced with valet parking that signals the sharp-dressing suits are confidently claiming the ‘hood as their own. A few upstart restaurant attempts in the club kid's old haunt have fizzled (the short lived Fumetti, and the equally short lived 8 Restolounge before it), but Jacobs and Co. promises to sizzle (their steaks, at the very least).

John Tsoumaris (Brant House Group), Peter Tsebelis and Gus Giazitzidis (Brassaii) and Amar Singh (the original owner of the space when it was Roxy Blu), with designer Marc Kyriacou, have transformed the former party space into a high-end (reservation-only) steak emporium worthy of Yorkville standards. If you’ve got the buck in the bank, this emporium of red meat will not disappoint.

After reluctantly tossing the keys of your Porsche to the eager valet, you begin the Jacobs & Co. experience underground. More specifically, you begin at the restaurant’s swanky subterranean lounge, that’s complete with a smiling piano man seamlessly running his fingers up and down the keys. If Sammy Jr. and Frank Sinatra were still around, it’s a fair assumption they’d be hanging out at the bar. Leather club chairs and almost-too-comfy bar stools (pace yourself!) evoke a feeling of ‘50s class within the space, enhanced by low lighting and a (handsome) bartender offering Jack on the Rocks (Frank’s favourite drink of course).

Once your reservation has been confirmed, the maître d' escorts diners from the dim underworld up a slate staircase to the glowing second level (for some, this transcendence is the closest they'll come to entering heaven). A completely different atmosphere awaits where a glass-enclosed steak-aging room greets you at the top. Please refrain from addressing the aged-steak within the glass in an audible voice, though eying it up and down with a discreet internal monologue is acceptable; “Oh hello there, you sexy 32-days aged piece of Wagyu Beef tenderloin… perhaps you’d like to join me for dinner?”