With excellent food and a lively atmosphere, Chops is becoming the place to meat and greet.

Sometimes you walk into a restaurant and there is something mean and worried in the air, and you think, "This place is not going to make it." Other times, the air in the establishment smells rich and important; in short, it smells like success. That is what I caught a whiff of the other night in Chops, the new steak house on City Line Avenue.

As you deposit your car with the (free) valet under the auspicious new awning, where Marabella's once had them nacho-ing and potato-skinning far into the night, you feel that everything is under control. The large dining room looks different now, but the busy bar to the left of the entrance is undisturbed, save for a great sculpture of a bull above it. There are well-spaced tables in the two dining rooms, ringed with black leather booths, lit by hanging lanterns and cooled by ceiling fans. What captures you is a mural that runs the length of the rooms, done in earthy tones, that at first glance could be Guernica for the Main Line. Look again, and it is just a Cubist-style depiction of smartly turned-out twentysomething men and women, drinking and eating.

Chops is the creation of Alex Plotkin, CIA grad and lawyer as well. He worked at the esteemed Opus One winery in Napa, then put in four years at The Fountain in the Four Seasons. For the last seven years, he was manager and the man to know at The Palm, and now has brought his expertise -- and apparently his entire client base -- with him; although this is located in Bala Cynwyd, I spy many Center City-ites here. They are lured by the easy parking and the notably less-expensive menu, I wager, but it's the food that brings them back. This place is hot!

Sipping big martinis, we check over a list of appetizers that include the usuals -- shrimp cocktail, crab cocktail, clams casino, calamari -- but spot some that are a bit different, like escargot. Shrimp and vegetable tempura, composed of three gigantic shrimp, mushroom, broccoli and a sweet potato slice, is as crisp and greaseless as can be. When you dip each mouthful into the soy dip on the side and then bite into it, the crust crackles like paper to reveal the tender and juicy interior. An entire half-pound of lobster, chunked with avocado and bound with a spicy mayonnaise, is sweet, hot and succulent. There are icy East Coast oysters, and when my companion asks the very young waitress, as she presents them, if there are any oyster crackers, she replies, "They're already cracked." Her gaffe is forgiven, however, for she hovers over us for the rest of the meal like an indulgent mother. Incidentally, one could easily make a meal on oysters and lobster salad, or tempura with the beef carpaccio. The bread basket, which offers sourdough and raisin bread tonight, could complete said meal.

We eschew the classic wedge of iceberg lettuce with blue cheese dressing for the Chops Caesar salad, which has the crisp bite of Parmesan cheese and croutons, the right salinity of anchovies and just enough lemony dressing to make it a classic, too.

The wine list, which one of my companions labels "serviceable," is composed mainly of American red wines at reasonable prices. They offer about 25 wines by the glass, and the bottle list runs from $22 for a White Zinfandel to $300 for a super-Tuscan, which is not a bad stretch. We choose a Shiraz from Australia's Barossa Valley that, at $36, gives us all the chunky flavor we need to go with red meat.

There are a great many other choices -- roasted chicken, five different fish preparations, crab cakes, lobster stuffed with crabmeat, even veal Parmesan -- but we are going the beef route tonight, and so our first choice is the 16-ounce dry-aged N.Y. strip steak (at $26, it's substantially less here than in Center City steak joints). Another companion wants the Dijon and herb-crusted New Zealand rack of lamb, and another always prefers the filet. As is the fashion, the vegetables are all extra side dishes, but one order can easily feed the table. We opt for creamed spinach and hashed brown potatoes (how unusual) though they also feature potatoes in every fashion, pan-roasted mushrooms and onion rings.

The sirloin arrives rare on the first try, the color of Chinese red lacquer when sliced and oozing juice. Its recipient finds the flavor great, but the meat a bit chewy. I don't agree, but do second the diner who finds the filet to be full of flavor, but strangely dry in texture, although it too is rare. But the rack of lamb is eight ribs of pure delight. The coating is snappy and hits just the right note with the full-flavored rosy lamb. The creamed spinach is properly creamy, with the exotic whiff of nutmeg, and the potatoes have a nice crust and soft center, but could use a punch of onion.

Desserts, unfortunately, arrive as pieces on a plate. If you don't print up a menu, at least have the staff recite the desserts -- those papier-mache-looking slices are so tacky. However, what we try is quite good in spite of their less-than-wonderful presentation. We bypass what must be the special, Aramingo cheesecake, because it is the only one not made in-house. We're tired of crème brûlée, don't feel like fruit, wonder if the chocolate Duncan Hines cake is a knockoff of Jones', and settle on apple pie and key lime pie. The apple pie has a good short crust and lots of seasonings, but the apples are a bit too tough for my taste. The key lime is really good and classic and custardy. We clean that plate.

So the Main Line has a new restaurant to kick around -- not that I think there will be much to complain about. If it keeps going at this rate, it will surpass the glory days of Gatsby's (if any of you remember that). Like those chic people in the mural, Chops has an air of knowing how to do your stuff and do it quite well. It's handsome, well-located, well-priced and I'm ready to come back for more. So will you be, unless you can't live without having your caricature on the wall.

Wheelchair accessible. Smoking permitted at the bar. Reservations recommended for dinner. All major credit cards.