One thing guaranteed to get the human male all hot and bothered is a juicy piece of USDA prime. Give him that slab of meat in a room decorated like an upscale bordello, complete with coy glamour shots of turn-of-the-century lovelies in various stages of deshabille, and you've got yourself one of the most successful steak-house chains in the country. Live from New York, Strip House has landed in Palm Beach Gardens to satisfy our every lust, and even the sour old feminists among us are glad: Those mashed potatoes cooked in a truffle-oil-laced crust, that pale and unctuous foie gras steamed in herbs, the tiers of crustaceans on their fresh seafood plateau, and most of all, those thick, fat-larded, char-grilled rib eyes — coupled with stellar service, dry martinis, and a wine list vast enough to bring a Bordeaux-flavored grin to the lips of the pickiest oenophile — are reason enough to throw any lingering principles out of the window and dig in.