STEAK STORE - BIG DISAPPOINTMENT

      

MY SON INTRODUCED ME TO WHISKEY CREEK when I first moved to the Midwest.

I was never really taken with the "throw the peanut shells on the floor" atmosphere. I used to think their steaks were reasonably priced and edible, considering that they are not a high-end steakery.

Since I had been stopping over the Grand Island/Kearney area for a few weeks I decided to once again try Whiskey Creek because the several times I had gone before the results were adequate though not spectacular. But my available monies dictated my choice.

At steak houses I normally order "flat iron steak",  popular here in the middle-western part of the United States. Had never even heard of them in South Florida. But this is "cattle country", therefore "branding iron" country. So this time I decided to order a "branding iron" steak. It was 7 ounces with two side orders for $12.99, which seemed reasonable.

The waitress asked me if I was allowed bread. I know I have a voluptuous, a-hem, figure, however I have never been asked if I was "allowed" bread before.

I said "Yes", that I would like some.

       

The bread is usually served warm and it comes with a honey-cinnamon butter, which is pleasant. This time the bread was cold, and a tad dryer than normal.  It may be because the time was 3:00 p.m. It had probably been baked before noon time, to be served over what most people consider the more conventional "lunch time".

Even cooled and a little dryer than normal I enjoyed the marbled pumpernickel and whole wheat mini-loaf with the honey-cinnamon butter. Not the whole loaf of course! I took most of it home. And I will tell you why.

Next came the Caesar salad. I usually love this salad. However, the lettuce leaves were brown, even throughout the salad. Not sure if you can see the brown edges, but check this out...

                      

See the browned edge on the yellow leaf bottom left? There is more on the rest of the leaves.

It seemed to take longer than usual to get my steak but I was patient. I was tired so sat and rested a while.

Only one napkin graced the table. It had been wrapped around the silver ware. Now, maybe I am just a bit sloppier than other people, but I need to have more than one paper napkin...especially when eating drippy things like butter and sour cream on baked potato. There was a cocktail napkin under my water glass. So I snagged that.

When the waitress came to take my order I asked "Could I please have another napkin?"

She reached over to some unknown spot behind the bench where I was sitting, and handed me a couple more cocktail napkins.

"Well thank you Ma'm! I'll just wipe my teeny tiny lips on this teeny tiny napkin", I wanted to say. But I was nice and accepted them without complaint.

I had ordered the steak cooked medium-well. When the waitress brought it I was so hungry I didn't think to take a picture. She asked me to cut into it. I didn't see any pink, but assumed, wrongly, that it would be juicy anyway.

I don't eat steak often. My pocketbook only slightly bulges with beef bucks every six months or so. Heck, I hardly even buy meat at the grocery store anymore. It is so expensive!

So when I pay for a steak I expect it to be good. The more bites I took, the more I realized it was so dry as to be almost burned. I waited for the waitress to come back.

Meanwhile, I cut up the pleasingly large baked potato with sour cream, butter, and coarse salt. I intended to munch on that in lieu of the darn burned steak.

Finally she returned. She was kind about the situation. She started to take away the entire plate, including the baked potato which I had painstakingly cut and smeared butter and sour cream on.

I asked, "Do you think you could please bring the potato back on another plate?"

I didn't say," I am really hungry. Since I can't eat my steak I will eat the baked potato."

Hailey the waitress replied, "Sure. I am sorry. I will get you another steak."

So she took the plate away for a good twenty minutes. I devoured the potato.

Voila! The new 6 ounce steak came with yet another poofy baked potato. Notice that the potato is larger than the steak?

"I am awfully sorry about the last steak. The cook was trying to hurry to get the other six orders out so he probably rushed. Hopefully this will be better."

This time she didn't wait to see. Nor had I expected that there would be any problem, especially since the steak looked juicy on the outside.

           

I cut the new steak open with expectation, only to find my hopes dashed once again.  Beef, beef everywhere but not a sign of pink! Medium well steaks are supposed to have pink in them - somewhere!

I was bound and determined I would not send that steak back a second time. I wanted to eat! The meat wasn't quite as dry as last time.

I was so surprised though. I had never had this experience at this chain of restaurants. How had they stayed in business since 1995, serving steaks completely erroneously cooked?

So I ate that damnable steak! Next time she came around I showed her. I was nice about it. After all, it wasn't her fault. I even left her a decent tip. That was only right since she was kind enough to bring the second steak. But I won't have second thoughts about never stopping at this restaurant anymore.

    

I went to the restroom before leaving and found when I went to wash my hands that the soap dispenser was clogged with soap. The bathroom was clean, but I have taken care of buildings before and I would not have allowed a janitorial staff to leave soap clogging dispensers like that.

             

The artwork on the wall, and the 1970's music were nice. But I'll be darned if I'm going to pay over $16.00 for a less than mediocre steak and brown lettuce again.

     

After leaving the restrooms I saw a big, blown-up photo of an out-house. I was so tempted to take a picture with my phone and end the article with it, comparing Whiskey Creek to the out-house. But I'm not that mean! Though I was sorely tempted.

I took the extra baked potato home to eat tomorrow because I am plump enough!

As I opened the terribly heavy...so heavy-I-almost-couldn't-do-it-myself-front-door, memories of wonderment over that huge, heavy door returned from my last visit here.  Well, this will be my final one.  Sayonara Whiskey Creek!