“I don’t think cowboys ever ate like this,” my companion commented as we forked through velvety bibb lettuce drizzled in brilliant maple-bourbon vinaigrette. Nor did they throw down their lassos at the end of the day to sup on foie gras in huckleberry glaze or buttery vegetable tarts or braised rabbit leg with pancetta emulsion. But hey, this is the developing East Village we’re in – and not the bygone Wild West.

Cowboy Star is the brainchild of Jon Weber, who wanted to recapture “the feeling of escapism” that he derived watching classic television Westerns as a kid. Yet he realized the concept would require some polishing in order to attract hipsters. So he called upon architect Matthew Ellis of Blue Motif to implement an infectious design that appears part steakhouse and part ponderosa framed with 21st Century élan.

Plush leather, stainless steel and reams of fresh-smelling Douglas fir flow throughout the brick interior, a seriously stunning mix of elements that earned the restaurant in November an “orchid” from the San Diego Architectural Foundation. In the front is a highly inviting cocktail lounge leading to an expansive open kitchen that looks out to linen-cloaked tables and button-pinned leather booths, all bathed in warm, ambient lighting. A small butcher shop stocked with premium and organic meats adjoins the front entrance. What you see in the shop’s display cases appear also on the dining menu.

Chef Victor Jimenez is a trusty stakeholder (no pun intended) in Cowboy Star, which guarantees a level of culinary excellence that extends right down to the organic delicacies he uses for his tart du jour. In our visit last week, he seized upon seasonal ramps and incorporated them into a memorable asparagus tart. The ramps provided an enlivening essence that hovered between onions and garlic, sans the offensiveness of either.

Pepper-seared wild boar carpaccio was delightful and pretty, although not a hardcore introduction to the distinct earthy flavor of boar. Jimenez quells the meat’s gaminess with zesty honey-jalapeño mustard and pickled wax beans, both of which pretty much stole the show.

In choosing from the “entrée” and “hand-cut steak” categories, we deferred to our waiter, fitted finely in staff attire – jeans and a brown cowboy shirt accented with cream-colored rope trim. But truly, the cowboy theme doesn’t run rampant unless you consider the origins of the meats (steaks, lamb ribs, sweetbreads, rabbit, poultry, etc.), which hail from regional and national prairies that specialize in herd (a.k.a., humane) farming.

The waiter steered us well. A 20-ounce bone-in strip was of prime grade and dry aged for 35 days by the purveyor. Cooked flawlessly medium as ordered (a sacrilege to many, but that’s how I like it), the beef exuded rich and fabulous flavor, propped further when we saturated its pores with wine-enriched bordelaise sauce served alongside. A medley of seasonal veggies and mashed Yukon Golds sinfully laced with sour cream clenched the deal.

Our other entrée, cider-braised Berkshire pork shank, boasted all of the sweet and puckery undertones I had wished for, thanks also to a plop of neighboring red cabbage that perfectly suited the sourness of the braise. The shank was served with its marrow-filled bone standing upright. And in only one tap of the fork, nearly all of the steamy meat tumbled off of it. Priceless.

The menu also includes seafood such as Loch Duart salmon from Scotland, which meets the world’s most stringent animal welfare standards, plus halibut with red quinoa and scallops served with poached kumquats. But after finally visiting here for the first time a year into its operation, we just couldn’t throw our chaps to the sea. We came for red meat and “swallered ’er while warm.”

Cowboy Star offers decent wines, although we’re not sure what happens to their integrity on hot days, judging from the open storage racks perched a few yards from the kitchen. Nonetheless, the collection features the mother of all steak wines – an oak-y, anise-y tasting Roth cabernet from Sonoma’s Alexander Valley. “This is the wine you order with your last meal before an execution!” my companion declared.

And for dessert, the crowning finish to your culinary foray into this modern Old West is strawberry-rhubarb shortcake stoked with Chantilly cream and strawberry sorbet. Perhaps a sissy confection for the likes of Wild Bill Hickok and Buffalo Bill, but nobody here will drive you out of town if you wear a cowboy hat backwards.