As part of my research on Taylor Sheridan’s presence in Fort Worth, Texas, I went to Cattlemen’s Steakhouse to have a chicken-fried steak and soak up the vibes of the newly renovated restaurant. During the editing process, we ended up cutting out the part of the story about what it was like to dine there. This week, I bring you a mini-recap of the visit and a brief guide to the steaks available there, most of which come from cows owned by Sheridan.
I tried Cattlemen’s on a rainy spring Sunday night, when I drove an hour to the Fort Worth Stockyards, a historic district that used to be where cowboys bought and sold heads of cattle and is currently a place loaded with restaurants, honky tonks, and places to buy hats and boots. I braved finding free parking in the Stockyards — the $20 paid parking is a tourist trap. I also accepted that there would be a 45-minute wait to get a table or seat at the bar. This place stays one of the most booked restaurants on OpenTable in the city.
When I was seated, it was at a table for two that was less than six inches away from a large, round table for eight. The asses of endless waiters swung towards my face for the next hour as they passed through a gap narrower than the Cumberland. Service went like this: I got a glass of wine, but that required reading the name of it back to the waiter, who was struggling to find it in their system, which has fewer than a dozen by-the-glass options. Then I got a scorching hot plate with a chicken-fried steak covered in gravy, with a side of creamed potatoes with skins left on — it was excellent. The issue was that my iceberg wedge came after it. Last to the table was a bread basket, which contained the worst, limpest roll and most pathetic little piece of cornbread I’ve seen in my entire life. I could have lived without it.
Much has been made of the $165 dry-aged tomahawk chop on the menu, which weighs in at 32 ounces (and which Sheridan allegedly always orders), but that’s actually a low price for a chunk of beef that cut and size. It’s from Bosque Ranch, which is a frequent filming site for series in the Sheridan-verse, and his home. In fact, most of the steaks are from that ranch, except for those that are confusingly from Kansas, which is absolutely not in Texas, and one big money cut from his Four Sixes Ranch out in Guthrie, Texas. Oddly, there’s a wagyu skirt steak from one of the most respected ranches in Texas, Rosewood Ranch in Ennis — this is the beef numerous fine dining restaurants around DFW serve. The executive chef came from the Wynn in Vegas, so maybe he’s just confused.
The opulent decor gave me something to look at in the five minutes between when I placed my order and when the entree hit the table. The walls are lined with brown deer hides. On top of that are black-and-white photos of cowboys doing cowboy things, artistically, with lots of white space in purposefully high-exposure images. Diners sit cocooned in barrel chairs, embraced by wide arms, which echo wagon-wheel chandeliers above. Inside, a covered wagon from the set of 1883 is on display, and cowhide covers the generously-sized barstools — the aura of the Wild West, sitting comfortably within luxury. Patrons may sport cowboy hats or camo trucker caps with a feed store logo, but on this particular night, no one donned a telltale red cap.
On Ravenous This Week:
Jaya looks at how the fuck Hooters is back — the long and short of it is that the brilliant minds that came up with the breastaurant bought it back, but there’s a lot of analysis that I enjoyed reading about what factors led to this hideous revival.
You’ve also got me, finding a church cookbook that several of my family’s most beloved standard dishes came out of, and peeling back the layers on what it means to be fed by a community of people.
Bird Droppings:
Thanks to D Magazine for shouting out our Taylor Sheridan story.
This report on business dining being a bright spot makes me wonder: If we’re replacing everyone in corporate America with AI, will it get a corporate card?
I don’t care what anyone thinks, I still love a dense bean salad.
This series on the lost restaurants of San Diego is a fun time capsule.
