Steak a fork in me; I'm done, Warwick, RI June 2011

It has been a while since my plebian palate has been satisfied. I was informed by a source, as reliable as the World Cup bidding process, that the steaks at LongHorn were good. I took my gut over to Warwick, RI, to see if such obtuse claims were in fact true.

We were late meeting The Force and his significant other. Soz. The Latino and I were in Dick's looking at rods. To those not in the know, we were in a sporting goods shop called Dick's. That's right, a shop called penis. And we went to buy a fishing rod. Half an hour late, we arrived in the LongHorn car park where a pickup truck with a Kentucky number plate welcomed me. I took a snap to go with my collection of number plates. Fourteen down, thirty six left to go. The exterior of LongHorn looked rather dull with a neon sign that was probably meant to be a long horn. It was a Sunday evening and there were not very many patrons. It was like walking into a morgue. The restaurant was cold (the A/C was on the customary American summer setting; i.e. Arctic); the restaurant was empty (like Murray's Mount today); the restaurant was quite sterile (like Hugh Hefner surely must be).

Having inspected the menu, I asked the waitress for the signature 7 oz Flo's filet. Hold on. "We have run out of 7 oz filets".  Fine. I will take the Outlaw Ribeye (18 oz bone in ribeye to you). And hit me with a Killian's beer to wash down all that beef. Hold on. "We have run out of Killian's". The lack of atmosphere, lack of items I wanted on the menu disappointed me. Could be worse - imagine the disappointment of Crystal Harris' parents.

The steak arrived with a perfect tessellation of sear marks. They must have used a special edition George Foreman grill. I am not sure if my knife was somehow blunt or my steak was as tough as nails. Even Amanda Knox would have had trouble making a telling incision. When I finally got to grips with cutting, I was able to take my first taste of my Outlaw Ribeye. It was alright.Trying to think of my experience, all I can remember is that my mandible was given a good and proper workout. David Haye, I would recommend chowing down on this to strengthen your jaw before you get your head ripped off by Vitali Klitschko. I cannot recall the taste of the steak itself - it was masked by the million and one special spices that got thrown into the mixer.

It was all a bit disappointing to be honest. It was like England's U21 Euro campaign all wrapped up in an over seasoned second choice steak. The restaurant was done up to be champagne but it served up lemonade.

The HoDown says: LongForlorn.