A worthy Texas Roadhouse: Kitsch, yes, but damned good food, too

February 09, 2016 11:00 pm • Last Updated: February 10, 2016 2:36 pm

By Rick Koster
Day Arts/Features writer

I am an equal opportunity glutton.

If someone wants to feed me, I'm delighted to entertain proposals. ("Entertain proposals" is not to sound haughty or like an ingrate but, rather, a sophisticated way of saying, "Thanks, I'm sure your casserole is splendid, but I don't do mushrooms!")

Other than financial considerations, I am as willing to eat at a fast food franchise or chain restaurant as I am a fan of revered local Mom 'n' Poppery or independently owned casual- or fine-dining establishments.

Even then, we're open to "high-dollar" possibilities. Why, consider the time my wife, Eileen, and I decided to forgo giving Christmas presents to one another and, instead, ate our holiday meal at Bobby Flay's Bar Americain.

It was delicious and well worth the money — even though we missed the next six mortgage payments.

All this is in service to saying I was happily curious when a Texas Roadhouse outpost opened in New London. Let's face it: there's a scarcity of "Texas cuisine" up here.

Having said that, I quickly discovered the Texas Roadhouse chain was founded in Indiana and is headquarters out of, ah, Louisville.

At least their inspiration's in the right place.

The New London Texas Roadhouse, in that weird strip center on I-95 heretofore associated with the pleasant view of a former Pizza Hut, is a towering, barn-like structure that by design suggests kitschy atmosphere. This is reinforced inside in a large way.

The rustic, wood-happy interior, brightly lit with a circumference of large, padded booths and a square bar area at the heart of the layout, is pleasant enough. There are plenty of sports-watching giant screens, overly large faux canvas paintings featuring a cutesy cartoon armadillo with a cowboy hat "photo bombing" scenes of stereotyped "southwestern" babes and pickup trucks. Loud music plays continually — mainstream modern country tunes sprinkled with occasional Patsy Cline or Johnny Cash classics. If you're not otherwise inclined to particularly notice the music, you will when, every 45 minutes or so, the entire wait staff gathers throughout the dining room corridors and does a line dance.

No, really, they do.

So, yes, this is the corn-o atmosphere you're going to experience. It's calculated and, for a lot of folks, fun — and that's fine. It's not like I'm gonna brood at the bar, reading "The Castle."

Besides, the bottom line purpose in "eating" is, well, eating.

And Texas Roadhouse delivers in big fashion.

It's an expansive menu of southern comfort food with plenty of tavern appetizers, steaks, ribs and chicken, some "dockside" options, burgers and even a veggie plate. The latter was instrumental in getting Eileen, aka The Vegetarian Who Walks Amongs Us, to enter the place.

Worth noting: when you walk in, you'll see a butcher case on your right with hand-cut steaks. The Roadhouse PR insists everything on the menu is made on-site. Also, when you're seated, a basket of steam-kissed rolls are presented with a sublime honey/cinnamon butter. Be careful not to overdose — there's much greatness to come.

Over two visits, we split orders of "Rattlesnake Bites" ($5.99) and Tater Skins ($6.99). The former, a variation on jalapeno poppers, comprised tiny, deep-fried balls of diced peppers and jack cheese. We asked for ranch instead of the usual Cajun horseradish and couldn't have been more pleasantly surprised. Each bite was a crisp pop of sharp flavors.

The skins, alas, were the only bad note in our collective experiences. Bland and dry. In context, I almost have to believe this was a bizarre accident.

A cup of Texas Red chili (marvelously priced at $2.99 cup, $3.99 bowl), was a chunky, meat-packed version with a dusky, cumin-happy tone, a bit of heat, and generously spangled with shredded cheddar and chopped onions.

On my first visit, almost cringing with anticipated disappointment, I tried the Country-Fried Sirloin ($10.99), a variation on "chicken-fried steak." The meat was authentically hammered to a fork-happy thinness, coated with what seemed to be a buttermilk batter, flash-zapped and coated with white gravy. The crust was a brittle veneer to provide toothsome contrast to the gentle tenderness of the lean beef therein. The gravy had a peppery, southwestern sparkle. Tremendous. The accompanying steak fries were a perfect side.

Speaking of sides, there are several options, any four of which can be explored in a Country Veg Plate ($9.49). When, seated at the bar where E was slurping a simple but tangy Bloody Mary — no olives, celery or lemons — she ordered the plate, our bartender Leanne jumped into service. Asking if Eileen was a vegetarian, Leanne helpfully described the three "sides" options that included meat or chicken broth in preparation. It was much appreciated.

The bountiful house salad included fresh greens, cheddar, tomato, homemade croutons and chopped boiled eggs — adorned with a creamy blue cheese dressing. The buttered corn and fresh vegetables — sautéed carrots and broccoli — were all nicely and simply prepared and a baked potato, crusted with flakes of salt and brimming with sour cream and cheese, was nicely done.

There are a lot of Texas-Sized Combo plates available, too, which is a nice way to sample, considering the many menu options. Torn between a six-ounce filet and baby back ribs, I simply ordered that particular combination ($24.99). The steak was precisely cooked as per my medium rare request — a teasing char on the exterior and juicy red inside. A nice, competitive, capably prepared cut of steak for the price range.

The ribs were beautiful. A brown sugar dry rub contrasted nicely with a tangy, brushed coating of sauce. The six ribs were meaty, lean and flavorfully chewy beneath the lacquered exterior.

There will always be those purists skeptical of the chains, particularly those working an atmospheric motif, but I'll happily endure the suffering employees as they line dance for another food experience at the Texas Roadhouse.