Big Texas identity in Kenosha, Wisconsin

I’ve thought about the slogan which Texas has developed ownership to over the years – Everything is bigger in Texas. This could be an illusion to Texas’ fierce independence, even as their own nation for several years, before joining the Union, the Confederacy and then again the Union. Their fat to meat ratio on their steaks is similar to the body fat count of their citizens. The television screens in their football stadiums are as large as the 100 yards of turf. Culture is alive, as well as diversity, in areas such as El Paso, Austin, Dallas/Ft Worth, Houston and San Antonio. This hubris is so inflated, you get corporate names for steakhouses as far away as Maine. Last weekend, I drove over the border of Illinois to meet with the family in Kenosha, Wisconsin at one of these places – The Texas Roadhouse on Route 50. 

As the years have gone by, I have become claustrophobic in large crowds. Sure, I’m six foot two and with a decent body size (that’s me ignoring the love handles) but I couldn’t sit in the wood floored lobby of the Texas Roadhouse. People waiting for a table were packed in the side lobby for meat. I convinced Ally of the irony of hungry carnivores being shuffled in practical assembly lines, looking not far off from the slaughterhouses that provide the meat. A display case of steaks were in the front and I couldn’t help but to notice how pink they were instead of the rich red quality one gets from top grade steak that’s either been dry or wet aged. By the sights of line dancing near the bar and Country Western playing through the loudspeakers, ambiance almost seemed more important. The Green Bay Packers mural on the far wall nearly made me lose my lunch. See, I admire the talent of players like Aaron Rodgers…I just can’t stand the shitty arrogance of Packer fans. They are one step away from being NY Yankee lovers.

My family and our wives/fiancés took up and whole booth and a side table. My mother was wise enough to call ahead for a reservation, which they will take after 7pm. My brother Ryan and I both decided to down two Texas-sized 22oz yards of the excellent Wisconsin Amber from Capital Brewery. Along with the sampler pack of the New Glarus beers I picked up at Woodman’s before dinner, we nodded in respect to two of the Midwest’s finest micro-breweries.  

I went big with my dinner order of a 1/3 slab of ribs, a 10 ounce sirloin and mash potatoes. The butter rolls with cinnamon butter are a step away from those addictive as cocaine cheddar biscuits at Red Lobster. As I ate my decent Caesar salad, my brother Eric nodded at me with his dry sense of humored and muttered “Yeah boy, lettuce…grease that chute.” Thankfully this time I didn’t start crying from laughing so hard, as he has made me do at least three times a year. The sirloin steak was good but not great - thin, juicy with a strong pepper flavor. The fall of the bone ribs with the mild Kansas City style BBQ sauce got me nodding in approval. Those bones fell right out of a meat that had a good grill char underneath the sauce. 

Ally’s meal was another story. Her shrimp on the skewer were cold. The steak was mediocre. Thankfully the over-sized martinis she and Heather had put a smile on their faces from the quick buzz. I guess my meal, compared to hers shows that you get what you pay for in a place that champions a mass market identity over quality. The meal certainly wasn’t bad at all, much to my surprise. I thought stepping in I’d see overweight northern Illinoisan and Wisconsinites with feed bags strapped to their necks, having to take breaks from breathing to shove fried mayonnaise balls in their gullets. Though, I wasn’t far off on my assessments once I saw the diners who sat down in cowboy hats and Packers jerseys. :)