The only sawdust at Bryant & Cooper will be found in the retail shop next door. This is a nouvelle citadel of steak where the polished wood is inlaid with more marbling than the beef.

Of course, the red meat is terrific. To judge by recent visits, enough platters are consumed to set trends in livestock futures, plus deplete the metro area's potato supply.

But Bryant & Cooper ventures beyond steak and spuds. The kitchen gives you super surf as well as turf. There's great swordfish. And the lobsters could star in Jules Verne novels.

The crowds that devour this fare will remember that the restaurant sits on the old site of Manero's, a respectable but routine steak house. Now it's a comfortable combination matching food with mood. The woodwork is abundant and the marble green, the beige shadings soothing, the fireplaces inviting. Bustling but not raffish. You won't mind a wait at the bar.

Your setting is embodied by an outgoing, mustachioed host who could be an extra in any movie about the wanting days of the British empire. He's a genial gentleman, and obviously an ardent believer in hands-on management. Whether accommodating late arrivals, assuring children, or just making sure the dining room runs smoothly, the guy is a classic.

His staff could be part of a script, too. The aproned waiters go from devotees of Peter Luger brusque to fellows who'd be at home at a leisurely Lake Country inn. They jovially bring the goods.

The first will be a basket of breads that you'll finish before the menus appear. One, a variation on soda bread, definitely will be the initial departure. Flour-dusted country bread and the pumpernickel-raisin rolls will follow.

When you begin picking appetizers, consider the lobster cocktail - or, to be precise, the lobster. This is the complete crustacean, served cool and split. The shrimp cocktail contains a proper quartet, each member approximately the size of your index finger. The sweet crabmeat starter is ample, too.

Once, the eatery had a special of three "Texas stone crab claws," with a mild mustard sauce. For the Floridian, accustomed to piles of huge claws, the trio will seem meager. But it's refreshing finger food.

Bryant & Cooper turns out remarkably light and delectable clams casino, truly a crapshoot dish on most menus. They're tiny, sweet, with the perfect touch of bacon. Clams oreganata also are excellent, full of garlic, parsley and delicate breading.

And, understandably, the place concocts an intense beef-and-vegetable soup. The creamy vegetable soup has the requisite freshness, taste, and a cart of mushrooms.

A la carte vegetables are headed by marvelous creamed spinach, which emphasizes the green, and addictive hashed brown potatoes. Lyonnaise potatoes, made with the little red ones, are dry. The chip-thin cottage fries and matchstick fried onion rings are also-rans.

the top salad is a union of tomatoes and basil-lined mozzarella in fruity olive oil. But the straight tomato-and-onion salad, a steakery staple, ironically had cottony red and harsh white ingredients. And the Gorgonzola salad is too much iceberg, not enough romaine.

These preludes usually are followed by the delivery of a formidable knife for meat that could have fit neatly in Jim Bowie's belt. The beef includes a thick sirloin, a fist of filet mignon, a fatty rib steak and an outstanding prime rib that defines the limits of your plate.

The sirloin is a crusty, mineral-rich steak. In particular, the sliced sirloin, with sauteed onions and peppers, is reco- mmended. So is the velvety filet. They may have a special: Cajun rib steak. It's the carbonized cliche, burnt and best ignored. Have the rib steak in pure form.

Lamp chops are exceptional, three double-cut ones, ready for a juicy outburst. And the lemon pepper chicken is half of a moist bird, gilded, simply glossed, and good.

The primary mistake is sauteed veal. Veal Marsala is irreparably chewy, and its sweet sauce separates as you watch. Sliced mushrooms are trapped in it. Linguine in white clam sauce is a bland disappointment.

Instead, beefaphobes seeking seafood should try the flawless, snowy swordfish, big as a sirloin and broiled with a bit of butter. And for $39, you may sample what's the best broiled lobster in recent memory - a luxurious 3-to-4-pound spectacle that you wouldn't want to meet alive.

If the entrees haven't undone you, fresh fruit tarts, a creamy pudding or a lush chocolate truffle cake should. The creme brulee has a thick caramel mantle that cracks like glass. The cheesecake is fundamental and dense.

Bryant & Cooper's wine list is well chosen, and has several bottles prices so you'll avoid Chapter 11. The 1984 Beaulieu Los Carneros Chardonnay ($19) is easygoing, despite its oakiness and body. The 1982 Iron Horse Alexander Valley Cabernet Sauvignon ($28) is a crisp, drinkable entry from a producer of commendable sparkling wine. The 1983 Dry Creek Merlot ($19) is a clean compromise in the meat-vs.-fish debate.

Appetite and quality should ensure no leftovers from Bryant & Cooper. So, leave on the early side, mindful of busi- ness hours. The lingering tastes have to prompt a stop at the shop next door. It's the ultimate take-home.