One minute, I was loitering at the valet stand when Eric Aldis, the chef at King Steak, burst through the door in pursuit of a white Range Rover, calling out, “José! Wait!” Seconds later, he was back, a little winded, half-laughing after thanking José. “The guy left a $400 tip. His tab was only $300.” Steakhouses are sirens, calling diners toward excess they’d apologize for anywhere else.