Our dinner at this timeworn, beachfront hotel steakhouse was permeated with laughter from large, boisterous parties in a dim, semicircular dining room arguably in need of a refresh. Steaks with a blistered shishito and a tiny sprig of burnt rosemary were good enough. The lobster and lump crab risotto was as thick and gloppy as a bad home cook’s rice casserole. The mac and cheese topped with a scoop of braised short rib also seemed like something we could’ve better executed at home and without much effort. The preface and conclusion were the redeemers of our high-priced dinner: the Maine lobster bisque had the largest chunks of lobster we’ve seen in a restaurant soup, and the sole dessert previewed on the dinner menu, the Mastro’s warm butter cake, was indeed extremely buttery.