By Tom Sietsema Washington Post Magazine Sunday, Oct. 14, 2007 Civility reigns at The Prime Rib, which opened in 1976 and appears not to have budged much since. Men are still required to wear a jacket and tie, live piano and bass music continues to create a supper-club feel, and red meat and stiff drinks are cause for celebration rather than guilt. "Continued consumption of wine may lead to sophistication . . . and possibly severe happiness" reads the playful "warning" stamped on a cocktail napkin in this black-and-gold den of decadence. If you like tradition, you'll love this art deco-style steakhouse. "Our meat is corn-fed, dry-aged and slow-roasted," a waiter in a tux informs you when he takes your order, which should start with some oysters on the half shell, segue into the obvious prime rib and include a couple of sides -- creamed spinach and mashed potatoes being the richest and most wonderful. Not everything is tops. Frankly, the New York strip lacks sizzle, and the china could use an upgrade. But the (lump-only) crab imperial is sweet tribute to that seafood classic, the apple pie finds Norman Rockwell on a plate, and no other meat market comes close to this one for old-fashioned romance.