The Restaurantgoer's Guide

Cascade Prime Steak & Seafood: Where hospitality cascades into every bite.

Written by

Scot Harris

in

Rating: 5 out of 5.

Scot Harris

Every now and then, a restaurant doesn’t just serve dinner, it orchestrates an experience. Cascade Prime Steak & Seafood, a crown jewel of Navarre Hospitality Group owned by local legend Chef Kurt Janowsky, is one of those rare places where everything feels both deliberate and effortless. The welcome begins before you even open the door, an aroma of seared steak and gently charred elegance drifts into the night air, a prelude to the harmony waiting inside.

The design strikes that elusive balance between modern confidence and airy light. Every line is clean, every surface gleams, but not one element feels overthought. The dining room opens like a theatrical stage, with booths and tables cascading down toward a shimmering waterfall. We were fortunate enough to sit perched just above it, tucked into a perfectly cushioned booth, with a panoramic view that gently insisted: stay awhile.

Service, here, is an art form. Our server, Taylor, embodied a kind of polished intuition, present without pressing, formal without stiffness, and dressed with the same elegance that marked the space itself. From replacing our knives between courses to folding my napkin when I momentarily stepped away, his attention to detail was never performative. It was innate respect.

The meal began with a Caesar salad and carried a standard setting poise. The romaine was chilled to that elusive sweet spot between crisp and tender, the dressing confidently briny, the pickled red onions were a clever high note, and the homemade sourdough croutons warm and golden. Alongside it, a plate of golden French fries with light parmesan cheese. A whisper of truffle cream paved the way towards my entrée.

My mother’s salmon arrived swimming in a smoked tomato beurre blanc that lent both silk and structure. It flaked apart with a gentle tap of the fork but lingered on the palate like a well-chosen phrase. My own entrée, truffle tagliatelle paired with a medium-rare steak, was a duet of discipline and decadence. The pasta, slippery and supple, wrapped around a sauce of quiet depth. The steak, crimson-centered and crusted like an oath, reminded me that perfection, when pursued earnestly, still stuns.

The hand behind it all, Executive Chef Matthew Jay, brings a confidence to the kitchen, a culinary voice that is almost breakthrough in his sauce making. His plates speak with precision, grace, and intent.

Cascade’s quality standards are high, using only prime-graded beef, which makes up less than 2% of the beef produced in the United States, as well as Japanese A5 Wagyu. Along with fresh seafood shipped in 6 days a week.

No errors, more like grace notes. A flickering light or two, nothing more than a blink. A faint beeping from a neighboring table, there, then gone. If anything, these details reminded me that even the best bands play with breath between the notes.

And then came dessert. Lavender cheesecake, crafted by Pastry Chef Kelly Rybicki, arrived with the elegance of a last waltz. It was floral but grounded, ethereal without vanishing, and sat on a crust that gave just enough resistance. I didn’t just want the recipe (although I do hope Ms. Rybicki is taking apprentices)—I wanted to know what inspired it.

Even the bread deserves applause: whole grain, served warm, with butter that spread like a dream. These aren’t afterthoughts here. They’re proof that Cascade knows the real secret: true luxury is found in what others overlook.

The acoustics? Ideal. The lighting? Soft, inviting. The clientele? A mix of polished locals and knowing travelers. The view from the top of the room, as the lighting catches the water and glints off crystals, brought a beaming smile to my face.

Cascade doesn’t chase trends. It sets standards. It doesn’t shout. It simply knows.

We left full, not just of flavor, but of quiet reverence for a place that remembers hospitality is a way of life, not a performance. This is what it looks like when a restaurant stands on its own.

And stands tall.

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