I slipped into Winter Park’s steak scene at 729 Lee Road, Orlando, where Christner’s Prime Steak & Lobster stands with a somehow nostalgic glow—like Sunday dinner, just a bit dressed up, plus a piano bar sneaking music into your bones. They open their doors for dinner around 5 p.m., Monday through Saturday, and keep the lights soft and warm until 10 p.m. It’s cozy and classic, never feels forced.
Service here moves in that easy rhythm that makes you realize you don’t have to ask twice. My steak-order questions were met with that friendly kind of “let me guide your hand” tone, not preachy. Water refills feel barely noticeable but fully there, forks clink at just the right lull, and every table gets enough attention that you feel kind of seen.
The menu is heart-on-sleeve, heavy on USDA Prime steaks, chops, and seafood like cold water lobster tails. Starters like sesame-seared tuna or fried calamari read like little promises. Sides are bold—loved that mention of chateau potatoes, onion rings, lobster mac and cheese. And if you time it right, you’ll get a piano lounge shifting you into relaxing gear by the time your steak arrives.
I started with fried oysters that arrived crisped golden and plump, sending that “comfort food with a twist” vibe straight to my mouth. I dunked, I sighed, I eyed the next dish with full confidence.
When that steak came—yeah, it’s what people talk about. A ribeye with a pepper-corn crust that whispered “tender, juicy, just exactly right.” I sliced into it and the juices spread out like a small celebration. No frills, no wild aromatics—it just tasted like steak that mattered. Paired with buttery chateau potatoes and a side of asparagus al dente, it felt like being tucked into a velvet blanket of flavor.
There’s something playful about how the sides don’t try to steal the show—they dance. Broccoli au gratin stayed soft and creamy, not shy about being cheddar-forward. The mac and cheese perched like a cheesy hug. Even the wedge salad leaned on classic iceberg charm with blue cheese crumbles that felt generous, not stingy.
A buddy told me the mandarin orange cake here is legendary, and wow—that dessert swaggered up like a bright, zippy punch at the end of a gentle symphony. Moist, sweet, and with that citrus frosting finish that made me wonder if dessert should always feel this fun.
I watched the piano player turn keys into warmth and glanced around at folks leaning in, smiling mid-bite, our lights dim but smiles bright.
Walking to my car, I felt a little full, a little fuzzy, and a lot quietly happy. Christner’s isn’t chasing flash. It’s serving steak that feels important, sides that settle you, and a vibe that says, yes, you’re exactly where you belong.