It was Saturday night around 9:30 when we pulled into the Texas Roadhouse parking lot. Both of us were starving and we were excited to eat the steak that the restaurant is known for. It was Ryan’s birthday and before we got out of the truck he made me promise not to tell the waitress and have the servers perform their ritual happy birthday cheer.
Hand in hand we walked inside and were greeted by three hosts. Smiles plastered on their faces they chimed “Welcome to the Texas Roadhouse, have you eaten with us before?” We had and politely declined their offer to pick out a steak from the butcher. A thin girl with dark brown hair led us to our booth and we settled in to watch the basketball game on TV and chat. Conversation was difficult over the loud country music but the waitress rambled off her spiel like a pro.
Hungry for everything, it was hard to decide what to order that night and I eventually treated myself to an 8 oz. steak cooked medium with a loaded baked potato and a ceasar salad. Ryan ordered an 11 oz. steak cooked well done with a loaded baked potato and a house salad with a side of blue cheese dressing. We devoured our salads in minutes and chatted about the superbowl, my classes, and if we were going to move when our lease runs up in July.
The perky waitress checked in a few times to refill Ryan’s Coke and to remove our dirty plates. Another server with dark brown hair happily brought us our steaks. They were seasoned perfectly and cooked to order; a real treat. The potatoes were covered in sour cream and melted cheese, topped with crisp bacon bits. I slowly ate my meal, enjoying every bite until I couldn’t eat anymore. Ryan ate his quickly and finished my steak. “I told you I only needed an 8 oz. one,” I told him. "I'm stuffed, I can't wait to get home. Happy Birthday, babe," and he smiled in gratitude.
Clear, organized, well-observed, down to earth, straightforward.
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