In the dark and clubby setting that is Abel Conklin's, men in navy blazers and plaid slacks share steaks with women in pageboys and pearls. Even on weekday nights, the loyal core clientele keeps waiters and bartender bustling. Recently the management has gone after a broader-based crowd by implementing a new menu with lighter choices and down-scaled prices. The Old Guard needn't worry; the traditional standbys remain unchanged; they simply cost less.

A breadbasket holds soft onion rolls, which, your server will tell you, may be dipped in the pitcher of house steak sauce (called Haber sauce). Since I'm one of those purists who prefers my steaks sans sauce, I did try putting some on bread and found it to be not too sweet with overtones of horseradish that impart a rustic appeal.

Lunch at Conklin's is a notable value. Mine began with a commendable chicken Francaise in a light egg batter with buttery-citric sauce. My companion had a prime-rib sandwich, flavorful, if slightly chewy, and accompanied by a dipping sauce. This had been preceded by an order of fried wontons with a tasty filling that compensated somewhat for the tough and doughy exteriors. Coffee and dessert was included.

In the evening, dinner entrees come with salad, potato and vegetable. The salad is a pleasant toss of greens and crudities, to be topped with either creamy garlic, Caesar, Russian or Roquefort dressing, each the typically thick but nonetheless likable steak-house affair. I preferred the assertive Roquefort to the slightly sweet alternatives.

The name of the game here is steak. The hefty prime-aged sirloin arrives sliced and oozing beefy juices. I had ordered mine rare and, praise be, it came that way. A filet mignon was equally succulent, with more flavor than is usual in this cut of meat. My husband loved the pair of thick loin lamb chops he ordered, but since he had requested them medium and I insist on rare, I had to disqualify myself from passing fair judgement.

The appeal of Abel Conklin's, though, is that you don't have to order a big steak to dine well. My son adored the shredded barbecue beef sandwich, with tender shreds of meat piled high on a Kaiser roll and lightly bound with (as opposed to swimming in) a barbecue sauce that was more tangy than sweet. An open-faced grilled shell steak sandwich, sliced but still framed by its bone, was sizable, but could have been a bit more tender; a large burger was flavorful and fine.

I thought the ”pasta of the week” would provide an alternative to all that red meat, but on one occasion it turned out to be meat tortellini, which received a boost from its spicy marinara topping. Cholesterol-watchers can always count on at least one fish selection. The blackened tuna steak was generous, moist, savory (but not incendiary) with char-grilled overtones.

Of the accompaniments, the bright, stir-fried vegetables, which had a pronounced soy-sesame flavor, were a standout; the siimilary done snow peas came in a close second. Neither the sauteed onions nor the sauteed mushrooms were anything out of the ordinary. Although I didn't try the creamed spinach (never a personal favorite), I did overhear a woman at a neighboring table ask the waiter for the recipe. Hash-brown potatoes were crisp and ultra-savory, thanks to plenty of fried onions. Homemade steak fries, though came off as nondescript, as did a baked-stuffed potato. Yams, baked and stuffed, sport a marshmallow topping, making every day a potential Thanksgiving. But the garlic mashed potatoes, which accompanied lunch, were divine: browned on tip, like a shepherd's pie, and very, very garlicky.

At dessert time (all desserts $4.50), the boule de neigh, an intense, flourless chocolate cake, was a delight, marred only by a cloak of tired-tasting whipped cream, which was easily scraped off. Both the chocolate mousse pie and the key lime pie, however, seemed routine. A big hit with the younger set was the peanut butter brownie pie, chewy and fudgy.

Co-owner John Byers informed me that Conklin's will do children's portions at a nominal cost. And wine lovers should take note: A new wine-pricing policy lists the wholesale cost of each bottle and adds a $10 corkage fee. Compared to restaurant markups of up to four times the wholesale price, this represents considerable savings, especially on costlier vintages.

A few months age, it would have been impossible to review Abel Conklin's as an ”Eats” pick. Given the current economy, it's nice to see a formal steakhouse redefined as a place where one can choose between a ”serious steak” and a casual burger or sandwich and, regardless of which you choose, still balance the family budget.