When Nils Jebens' Kampa Group took over La Provence and Bazaar early last year, it took only a few months for La Provence's upstairs to transform into a graceful new brasserie. Bazaar was left more or less the same: a massive dance-club-cum-casbah-by-way-of-restaurant-to-avoid on touristy Nerudova.

But shortly before Christmas, the space briefly shuttered and quickly reopened with a new name as well as a new décor and menu. Called Cowboys, it is Prague's first steakhouse of the Western model, and to judge by a couple of recent visits, it is outstanding.

The only elements of the room that are similar to the old place are the tile floors and the exposed-brick ceiling, though the excellent lighting — a hallmark of Jebens' restaurants — sets off the rough textures far better than the previous edition. Inside, cool booths offer plenty of intimate spaces for couples and larger groups. Mirrors along the walls seem like they're in place for people-watching, but look carefully: They're angled down toward the tables, as if the food is supposed to be the center of attention.

Designed by Kampa's executive chef, Marek Raditsch, the menu backs up the architect's choice with a shout of "Look at me!" In addition to steaks, it includes dishes of the International American mode (chicken wings, crab cakes), Continental classics (prosciutto with melon), as well as bouts of creativity close to what you get at Kampa Park (mushroom cappuccino, fresh mussels au gratin). Among starters, the excellent marinated salmon seems like a Cihelna plate: slices of salmon topped with red lollo and frisée lettuce and dressed with a gingery, sweet and tart soy-sesame dressing.

Main courses include beef, chicken, pork, veal and lamb, as well as fresh fish, a Kampa stalwart. Among the steaks, the rib-eye is one of the very best steaks I've had in Prague, with plenty of fat to make it nice and juicy. It's available in an "L" 200-gram (7-ounce) portion, as well as an XL at 250 grams. (Other steaks go all the way up to XXL, 350 grams.)

Another beef dish, scaloppini, pan-sears two thick cuts of filet mignon. Diners can choose additional house-made condiments, of which the BBQ-esque tomato sauce is a very nice pairing.

Though steaks are the heroes here, vegetarians and carnivores alike should come for the mushroom burger: a toasted sesame bun stuffed with portobellos cooked until they're like eggplant caviar, with cheddar cheese, grilled tomatoes and fresh spinach. Served with a few onion rings and garlicky, house-made ketchup when I tried it, it's one of the best burgers of any kind around.

Desserts follow the International American theme — not American food per se, but those few exports that are considered "American" around the world — with carrot cake. This one is way off, however: way too dense and gooey, hard enough that it's even hard to cut, more like an energy bar than a cake. (Like zucchini bread, carrot cake is supposed to be moist and fluffy. Not moist and dense. And not as fluffy as angel food cake, either. Just fluffier than this.)

Far better is at least one dish from closer to home: The creme catalan is awesome, a bruléelike custard with a rock-candy skin, accompanied by a wow!-acidic orange sorbet.

Though aged Belgian ales are a great match for grilled steaks, Cowboys' drink menu is short on brewskies and long on wine, many of which are expensive, the cheapest being a Frankovka from Hort at 495 Kč ($20). A good inexpensive alternative is the 2002 crianza from Spain's Conde de Valdemar. Mostly tempranillo, this sour-cherry and strawberry-flavored red has a dry finish and plenty of palate-cleansing sharpness. "Inexpensive" isn't the right term for a bottle costing more than 25 euros, but it fits when most of the list is around 1,300 Kč or above. Also, several wines are available by the glass, including a very good Chilean malbec as a current special.

The overall impression is outstanding: Service could use some organizational help, but the place has only been open a few weeks. Like the carrot cake, one of the side dishes misfired: About half of the so-called "crispy" potatoes were soggy. But these are trivial points, especially when compared to the massive transformation of a dead-end music bar into a restaurant comparable to Kampa Park or Square.