Right now, somewhere across America, somebody is walking into a Texas Roadhouse for the first time, greeted by the smell of fresh rolls and the crunch of peanut shells underfoot. They’re going to sit down, open that big menu, and order something that a seasoned regular would never touch. It happens constantly. And the thing is, most of the menu is genuinely solid — this is a chain that was named the fastest-growing restaurant brand in the world in 2023. But a handful of items quietly let people down every single time, and knowing which ones to dodge can mean the difference between a great dinner and a forgettable one.
The steak fries nobody asked for
You’d think a steakhouse could get fries right. Thick-cut, golden, maybe a little crispy on the edges — that’s the dream, anyway. Texas Roadhouse serves what it calls “steak fries,” and they arrive looking the part. Big rectangular slabs. Texas-sized, as the restaurant likes to say about everything.
But here’s the problem: they show up frozen. Not “were frozen and then properly revived” frozen. More like “still kind of cold in the middle and somehow limp on the outside” frozen. They lack warmth. They lack crispness. Two things that are, if we’re being honest, the only two things a french fry absolutely needs to deliver. For a place that prides itself on hand-cutting steaks in-house, serving fries that taste like they came straight from a bag in a warehouse feels like a strange disconnect. If you’re picking a side, there are better options on the list. Way better.
That mac and cheese has a secret — and not the good kind
So what about something comforting instead, like mac and cheese? Well. For a long time, when you ordered a side of mac and cheese at Texas Roadhouse, what you actually got was Kraft. Straight up. The same orange noodles you can buy at the grocery store for about a dollar. TikTokers have reported paying around $4 for a small cup of it at the chain. That’s a rough markup.
Now, to be fair, the chain has started rolling out what it calls “homemade mac and cheese” at many locations. Some stores still serve the Kraft version, though. And even the homemade stuff isn’t exactly winning awards. It tends to lean heavily on a mild cheddar that doesn’t bring much personality, with a gloopy cheese-to-noodle ratio that feels off. Seasonings are nearly nonexistent — we’re talking barely any salt or pepper. You can add cheddar and bacon on top for an extra $1.29, which helps a little, but you probably shouldn’t have to rescue a side dish at a restaurant. That’s your kitchen’s job.
The most expensive steak is actually the worst bet
This one feels counterintuitive. You’d assume that the priciest cut on the menu would be the safest order. At Texas Roadhouse, that crown belongs to the porterhouse T-bone — 23 ounces of beef that combines filet and strip into one massive slab. Sounds incredible on paper.
The reality is messier. Because it’s a bone-in steak and it’s enormous, the T-bone is extremely prone to uneven cooking. You end up with dried-out edges on one side and near-raw meat clinging to the bone on the other. It’s an unpredictable eating experience, and not in a fun way. But the real kicker? A former employee revealed on Reddit that the porterhouse T-bone is the only steak at Texas Roadhouse that isn’t hand-cut in the restaurant. It ships in frozen. Every other cut gets sliced fresh from that butcher case you see when you walk in the door. The T-bone skips that process entirely. The employee called it one of the chain’s “not so good” steaks, which is about the most diplomatic way you could put it. Stick with the ribeye or Dallas filet instead.
A burger that forgets to dress itself
Can a steakhouse make a decent burger? Absolutely. Should Texas Roadhouse’s All-American cheeseburger be your order? Probably not.
It looks great, honestly. Stacked tall with a thick patty, tomatoes, lettuce, and onion, held together with a toothpick like some kind of diner monument. Then you pull the toothpick out and everything starts falling apart. The patty tends to run overcooked and chewy. But the strangest part is what’s missing: there’s no mayo, no ketchup, no mustard under the bun. Nothing. The burger arrives completely undressed, and it’s on you to fix that. Which, fine, some people like building their own, but this feels less like a deliberate choice and more like an oversight. At home you could make the same thing for a fraction of the price and, frankly, better. The chain’s bacon cheeseburger and Barbecue Smokehouse burger at least throw some extra flavor into the mix if you’re absolutely set on ordering a burger here.
Country fried sirloin — a salt delivery system
What about comfort food, though? If you’re at a Southern-style restaurant, something fried and smothered in gravy feels like the right call. Texas Roadhouse offers a country fried sirloin that, in theory, should scratch that itch. In practice, it’s a sodium assault from every direction.
The breading is thick — the same batter used on the Cactus Blossom appetizer — and it’s salty. The white cream gravy piled on top? Also salty, with a weird smoky flavor nobody can quite identify. Underneath all of that, the actual sirloin is thin, chewy, and honestly kind of flavorless, which is almost a relief after the salt onslaught from everything surrounding it. There’s also a naming issue that might bug the pedantic eaters out there: despite being called “country fried,” the dish has way more in common with chicken fried steak, what with the extra-crispy coat and cream gravy. It’s a small distinction, but if you’re going to name a dish, at least commit to what it is. The whole plate just feels like too much fuss covering up too little substance.
Green beans that belong in a soup bowl
How bad can a side of green beans really be? Bad enough to rank dead last among all sixteen side options at Texas Roadhouse, apparently. The chain tries for a homestyle approach — bits of bacon, diced white onions, the whole down-home thing. But something goes sideways in the execution.
The bacon and onions seem half-cooked. The beans themselves have gone the opposite direction, cooked so far past tender that they’re practically disintegrating. Everything sits in a watery, greasy liquid that honestly looks more like pea soup than a vegetable side. You might need a spoon. Flavor-wise, there’s a faint smokiness and a strange sweetness, but mostly it’s just… bland mush. If you want something green on your plate — which, good for you — the steamed broccoli or a side salad will serve you much better. Those aren’t exciting choices, I know. But at least they’ll taste like what they’re supposed to be.
The pulled pork that doesn’t deserve Texas in the name
Here’s something that might surprise people: Texas Roadhouse isn’t actually from Texas. The chain started in Clarksville, Indiana, and its headquarters sit in Louisville, Kentucky. That fun fact becomes very relevant when you order the pulled pork dinner and wonder why it tastes nothing like Texas barbecue.
The presentation alone doesn’t inspire confidence. Shredded pork gets tossed on the plate in a way that looks careless, almost sloppy. Dig in and you’ll find half the portion is gristly and fatty, while the other half has dried out into tough, stringy threads. The BBQ sauce is probably the only thing worth praising here, and it’s doing a lot of heavy lifting. Then there’s the bread. Instead of those famous, pillowy dinner rolls everyone loves, the pulled pork dinner comes with a crusty, sometimes burnt bread that feels like it wandered in from a completely different restaurant. The two Legendary sides that come with it might be the best reason to order this dish, and even that’s a backhanded compliment. You’re essentially ordering sides with a disappointing main course attached.
So what should you actually order?
With seven items on the “skip” list, you might be wondering if there’s anything good left. There absolutely is. Texas Roadhouse has built its reputation on hand-cut steaks for a reason. The ribeye is a best-seller. The Dallas filet is consistently praised. The Rattlesnake Bites are a fan favorite appetizer. And those rolls — the warm, fresh-baked ones with honey cinnamon butter — are genuinely one of the best free items you’ll get at any chain restaurant in America. No exaggeration.
The trick is just knowing where the menu shines and where it quietly falls apart. A lot of the misses share common threads: frozen ingredients instead of fresh, under-seasoned sides, dishes that try to be something they’re not. Once you recognize the pattern, ordering gets easier. You lean into the strengths of the menu — the steaks, certain appetizers, the rolls — and you sidestep the stuff that’s been disappointing people for years. It’s not about avoiding Texas Roadhouse. It’s about knowing exactly what to get when you’re there.
Most of this comes down to a pretty simple principle: order what the restaurant does best and skip the stuff that feels like filler. Texas Roadhouse is a steakhouse. The steaks — most of them, anyway — are the whole point. When you wander too far from that core menu, you start running into frozen fries, Kraft mac, and pulled pork that wouldn’t survive five minutes in actual Texas. Stick to what works, load up on the rolls, and you’ll walk out happy. That’s been the move all along.
