Chicken fried steak!, Cranston, RI, USA, 2013

Back in Real England and finally had time to digest the gravity of the latest thing I polluted my body with at Texas Roadhouse. My mind is still boggling, my arteries are still recovering, and I still refuse to sign up for Obamacare.

If you are not familiar with Texas Roadhouse, it is like a La Camorra dump site in Naples. Second and third generation Eye-talian Americans dumping 'stuff' on tables in a neon lighting cladded dining hall resembling a Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant canteen. The only thing missing was Rob Ford long-arming Bud Light whilst hiding things up his nose and threatening to kill his New York Strip. Interestingly the floor is covered with discarded peanut shells from the Roadhouse punters gorging themselves on the bottomless peanuts like squirrels on death row. I rate Texas Roadhouse though. Texas Roadhouse is like a postman. It always delivers unlike England (i.e. the football team - twats).

Our waitress brought me the wrong 22 oz beer - I expected nothing less. I encouraged The Dancer to surprise me with real American American appetizing 'stuff' to pickle the appetite. I was surprised with the deep fried pickles. At first I was skeptical. As skeptical as the automated filtering system 'accidentally' following a high class escort agency on Twitter. I was still skeptical when I put away the last deep fried pickle. It kept leaving a bad taste in the mouth like an American bug in a German Handy. 

For the main event I had a standard a 12 oz steak of some variety. Standard. Boring. The main event, however, was a plate of battered thin strips of sirloin steak that The Dancer quietly ordered. Un-fucking-believable. This monstrosity was like a bitcoin. You really have to stretch your imagination to infer what its intrinsic value to human health is. It is completely unregulated and should be categorized as a class C drug. The Chinese would have a hard time banning this thing. The batter was overpowering, and irritatingly addictive. The aureate battered steak was finished deliciously by being dipped in gravy sourced from the Gulf of Mexico because it was smothered in crude gravy-like gravy. And the sirloin steak? Who cares? I would grudgingly forgo the steak and have battered better. Or maybe bettered batter?

The Ho Down says: Better that batter is better.