Editor’s note: First Bite is a new concept in restaurant writing. This is not a go-three-times, try-everything-on-the-menu report; rather, this is a quick snapshot of a single experience. We invite you to come along with our writers as they—informed, intelligent eaters like yourselves—have a simple meal at an area restaurant, just like you do.

Saddles, the spiffy restaurant at the glamorous MacArthur Place resort, has long been a destination for beef lovers. Now with prices for top-quality beef rising and the public appetite for beef diminishing, Dana Jaffe, the executive chef, says a makeover is likely, though the look of the new menu isn’t clear. For now, beef reigns supreme. When I arrived for dinner midweek, I wondered whether I’d opt for a steak or be cautious and order the seared salmon or the squash ravioli. Once I sat down in the casual dining room with its trompe d’oeil paintings and glanced at the menu, I knew instantly I wanted steak.

My friend wanted steak, too. But first things first. We started with the baked oysters Sonoma ($10) with pancetta and béarnaise with cognac. Next, we shared a creamy shrimp bisque, sweetened with coconut ($7). There were seven different steaks to chose from, including filet mignon, porterhouse and a dry-aged New York. We ordered the 23-ounce bone-in ribeye ($45).

The huge steak, which arrived on a big, white platter, looked succulent and gave off a rich, beefy aroma. It was cooked medium rare with just a punch of salt and pepper and a smidgen of butter, so the meat spoke for itself. It had been turned several times over a hot grill, and seared on the outside to keep the juices inside. I cut the tender ribeye in half with a hefty steak knife, and shared it with my fellow carnivore, savoring every bite.

The Rued 2003 Zinfandel brought out the flavors of the meat. Garlic mashed potatoes ($4.50) and steak fries ($4.24) are available for potato lovers. We chose the wild chanterelles ($8), which were flavorful, and the garden-fresh creamed spinach ($4.75). Next, we had Saddles’ salad of mixed greens, goat cheese, walnuts and a cider-thyme vinaigrette dressing. ($8) For dessert, we had the crème brûlée with blueberries ($7).

Jaffe expects greatness from her kitchen staff, and everyone contributes to the Saddles dining experience, including the vegetarian Hindu sous chef. Jaffe buys top-quality grass-fed beef from sustainable ranches in Northern California and Oregon. The steak tastes clean, and it feels good to eat beef that’s been treated kindly. Jaffe makes her own pies with fruit from the trees right outside the kitchen, and, using a recipe handed down from her mother, also makes a delicious, cold fruit soup with rhubarb, raspberries, black cherries, prunes, sultanas and cinnamon topped with vanilla bean ice cream. It’s worth a special trip to Sonoma.

“Americans thrived on steaks and pies,” Jaffe smiles, as though her memories of yesteryear were fresh. “Not so much anymore. If you want to eat the way Americans once ate, come to Saddles.” Indeed, it’s a carnivore’s paradise, and an American steakhouse in the best American tradition. The live Friday night showboat jazz adds a touch of elegance.

Saddles, open for dinner nightly. 29 E. MacArthur St., Sonoma. 707.933.3191.

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Quick-and-dirty dashes through North Bay restaurants. These aren’t your standard “bring five friends and order everything on the menu” dining reviews.

Editor’s note: First Bite is a new concept in restaurant writing. This is not a go-three-times, try-everything-on-the-menu report; rather, this is a quick snapshot of a single experience. We invite you to come along with our writers as they—informed, intelligent eaters like yourselves—have a simple meal at an area restaurant, just like you do.

Where do college English majors go after they receive their diplomas? Denny Lane graduated from Sonoma State University in the 1990s and still remembers his lit profs. Now he’s part owner of Maya, the Mexican restaurant that prides itself on its “Yucatan spirit in the heart of Sonoma.” Shakespeare and Virginia Woolf don’t aid him at Maya, but he exudes an air of sophistication that adds charm to the large, often noisy dining room with its walls and floors of stone.

I ate there recently with a half-dozen people in the wine and food industry. Two of them were a brother and sister who had grown up in Sonoma and who made their mother’s Mexican cooking a yardstick to take the measure of the chef at Maya. From the start, I knew I was in for a comparative dining experience, and I had the hunch that mom’s cooking would win. But I was ready to plunge ahead.

I have eaten at Maya several times, and almost always order the chile verde with large chunks of tender, braised pork and either tomatillo or red chile salsa ($14.25). “Very spicy” the menu reads, but that has never been the case. This time I wanted something different. My friends were willing to share dishes, and that was fun.

First came the bite-sized empanadas filled with grilled vegetables ($8.25), not made in mom’s Morelos style, my dining companions told me. Next, the quail salad that could have been a meal in itself, with grilled quail in a sauce made from poblano chiles and tomatillos, and a mixed green salad ($14.95). The shrimp tacos looked almost too beautiful to eat, and though they were tasty they weren’t spicy enough for my palate (13.95). The pan-seared sea bass with pesto corn risotto and an orange-tomato-cumin sauce ($21.50) also looked almost too beautiful to eat.

My friends opened several bottles of wine from Robledo, one of the few local wineries owned and operated by a multi-generational Mexican family. We enjoyed a fruity 2005 Pinot Noir and a hearty 2004 red wine named Los Braceros in honor of the Mexican farmworkers who came to America as part of a federal program in the 1940s. There was also an excellent 2005 Moscato that was sweet enough to make dessert feel superfluous.

Every dish at Maya looks gorgeous; the chef has obviously gone wild with colorful sauces. The ingredients are fresh and the service is excellent. But the food lacks fire. Even the bright red and green salsas that come with chips don’t have much kick. But I only have myself to blame. “Most of our dishes are not spicy,” the menu reads. “We’re happy to turn the heat up or down for you.” Next time, I’ll ask the chef to fire up the blast furnace. Then I’ll close my eyes, and pretend I’m eating in the Yucatan.

Maya, open for lunch and dinner, Monday–Saturday; dinner only, Sunday. 101 E. Napa St., Sonoma. 707.935.3500.

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Quick-and-dirty dashes through North Bay restaurants. These aren’t your standard “bring five friends and order everything on the menu” dining reviews.