Some would say that the kickoff to Winter Break was when I started texting Mike from every stoplight. (Don't worry, it's quite safe to get in a Y-A-Y-! before the light goes green.) But, if you know us at all, it started with the meal out.
Unfortunately, traffic was a bit heavy, so we decided to stick to the west side. That's "west side" as in how everyone has defined it in recent history, meaning "stuff to the far west of I-15." (If you have another definition, especially if you're a certain wanker on GoodReads, I cordially invite you to leave the era of segregation and book yourself a trip to the 1980s. Enjoy!)
Not sure where to go and not wanting to spend forever out and about, I did a U-ey (as Mike calls them) into the Outback parking lot.
Neither of us had ever been to the Outback Steakhouse, and after seeing their menu online, I wasn't ever planning to go. Most steakhouses have a little something for the vegetarian tagalongs, but the pickings looked extra-slim here.
However, all anyone ever wants to know is if Mike has been, and Mike was pretty curious. Hell, we'd go and I'd work something out. The adventure of taking the Aussie to the "Aussie" restaurant would be worth it. Plus, he's such a fan of baby back ribs - what could go wrong?
The list of what went wrong:
- Really dry, tasteless bread.
- The greasiest Bloomin' Onion to ever touch lips. I admit it - we still ate it. The dipping sauce was fantastic, and the onion petals were the best delivery system for it at hand. But, I'd far rather have the knockoffs at other restaurants than that thing again.
- I ordered the pasta but declined the meat (choice of scallops, shrimp, or chicken) that is part of the dish. Instead, I got a side of sauteed mushrooms that I said I'd mix with the pasta instead of the meat. (They offered to mix it for me. I said sure, but in the end the mushrooms arrived on the side.) It was my fault for not making an explicit request or pressing the issue, but I do think it was cheap of them to charge me the full price for the pasta AND for the side order of mushrooms.
- Mike discovered his love of baby back ribs at Chili's. He was expecting more of the same. Unfortunately, Outback uses a very sweet barbecue sauce, and Mike hates sweet BBQ sauce.
- The ribs and, surprisingly, the pasta were both very heavy/greasy.
- Five-dollar house salads. That's rough in a town where better places will do you up something fancy and chopped for less.
- The sudden need for the restroom that came upon both of us, with further visits throughout the evening. Mike made his first trip before the check even came.
I'm going to be very fair and not say that the Outback is a terrible place; it was just terrible for us. To pick on the lack of Australian-specifc fare is too obvious. Here are a few quotes from Mike anyway: "Where are the eggs on everything? The beetroot?" "Why are these called 'chips' but are made just like American fries?" "There's nothing Australian about this place."
Yet, the fact that the place was very full at an early dining hour shows that we're in the minority. Perhaps other Australians would like the Outback, but only if they aren't expecting it to be anything like at home.
Gracious defeat aside, that we both were ill afterward is inexcusable. If you do go to the Outback, perhaps it's worth avoiding the one on West Sahara at Durango.
(A little footage is below.)
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