Vegetarians consider it a hellhole. Carnivores revel in its reputation as a powerhouse restaurant where prime-grade steaks rule the day and errant flecks from hefty lobsters splat across your bib. Add to the mix a host of family-style side dishes, including hash browns prepared like you’ve never seen them before, plus a cast of who’s-who caricatures festooning the walls and you end up with the 30th location of The Palm.

“Did you see ‘Nightline’ on ABC?” I eagerly asked my dining companion through e-mail just hours after we exited the restaurant with copious leftovers in tow. The segment that evening pertained to the Jack Abramoff lobbyist scandal, where a slate of Congress members speaking on the matter were interviewed, coincidentally, at The Palm in Washington, D.C. My companion missed the piece, but recalled seeing the likes of John Chancellor and New Mexico Governor Bill Richardson when eating at that location.

Here in San Diego, the managers aren’t naming names yet as to the luminaries who’ve dropped in – many of their caricatures remain unsigned. But Palm restaurants across the nation endure as a magnet for high-profile politicians, sports figures, journalists and Hollywood celebrities seeking what one might call “exposed anonymity.”

“The layout here is more open compared to the one in D.C.,” remarked my dinner cohort as we sat in a polished wood, straight-backed booth. On the other side of the glass partition, the warm smell of grilling meat and garlic whirlpooled over an open, less conspicuous dining area occupied by conventioneers and the expected lot of curious customers, all attended to by an army of wait staff buttoned down in white jackets and black ties.

Our waitress, a chatty Kathy of sorts and decidedly on the ball, steered us to the Gigi Salad, which offers a palatable mound of iceberg lettuce, shrimp, bright green beans and tomatoes chopped up for easy piling onto the fork. We teamed it with a couple of the restaurant’s famous appetizers: The Jumbo Lump Crabmeat Cocktail sported excellent crabmeat that was firm, sweet and well chilled, although the Clams Oreganata struck us as little more than garlicky breadcrumbs baked in the half shells.

Moving on to the main event, we each opted for steaks and threw in a four-pound lobster for good measure. Of the beef here, expect well-marbled, prime-grade flesh that stands on its own without the help of any sauces. The waiters will mention the availability of hollandaise and bernaise as a footnote, but Palm denizens don’t bother. The steak list includes New York Strip in 12 and 18 ounces, an aged rib eye weighing in at 24 ounces, prime rib and steak a la stone, with the meat cut on a bias and fanned out over sautéed vegetables.

The various-sized lobsters come from Nova Scotia, and yield some exceptionally tender claw meat and densely packed tail meat. They’re split and broiled, then finished off with butter and a drizzle of cream at the end. I especially loved the presentation. The lobster arrives on a large serving platter after a waiter secures a bib to your neck. Another server begins cracking open the lobster’s torso and claws, leaving the irresistible meat exposed for fast yanking when you’re ready. Afterward, you hold out your hands for a treatment of hot towels and lemon wedges.

Also a big deal here are the homey side dishes served family style. The hash browns are shaped into a cake, at least four inches in diameter. Crisp and very dark on the outside and moist, white and chunky inside, a little salt and pepper makes them wonderful. We also added on a substantial serving of creamed spinach, a delightfully gooey concoction pointed up with a discernable dose of nutmeg.

Asparagus Fritti shows off the restaurant’s Italian roots – it was founded in 1926 in New York City. The northern Italian founders originally intended it to be an eatery specializing in cuisine from their native home of Parma, Italy. They wanted to call the restaurant Parma, but when they registered the name the clerk thought they were trying to say “Palm.” And it stuck. As for the fritti, made with fat and luscious asparagus spears battered, fried and dusted with Parmesan cheese, it sent my mouth into a fit of nostalgia, remembering my grandfather’s close version of the dish.

Wines, cognacs, scotches and whiskeys flow in The Palm’s supper club scheme. And aside from steak and lobster, the menu specialties cover the gamut: five different preparations of veal, a few linguine dishes, salmon, swordfish and broiled crab cakes. For dessert, we trudged through a springy, well-stacked Tiramisu and tangy Key Lime Pie, both made in-house.

Truly, if this is the place to be seen, and you’re intent on eating in a big and messy way, you might want to wear a disguise for the duration.