I wouldn’t normally have checked out the place. Maybe I was feelin’ ornery. Maybe I was hopin’ fer a bar fight. No, now that I think of it, an editor had recommended it as a place he’d enjoyed bringing his boys. What with special supplements thrown at him, he doesn’t get out much, so that won it extra points.

Apparently, Lou’s told others. Pulling up at a quarter to six on a Tuesday night, we had to park way in the back. And, handed a beeper, we were told the wait might be 20 minutes. Coming so early, we hadn’t thought to call ahead and be put on the waiting list, as they recommend. Judging from the two way-long benches in an alcove by the entrance, it looks like assuming success is built into the architecture. I later learned that they have nearly 200 locations in 34 states and plan to make many more visits to Home Depot in 2005.

The down-home, rec-room-on-steroids feel to the place may be corporate design, but it’s closer to a folksy Ben & Jerry’s vibe than to Howard Johnson. Knotty-pine everywhere. An eight-point buck sticking his head out of the wall here, a curly-horned ram there. A free juke box full of country hits invites you to add your favorites to the playlist, which you can do if there’s no kid randomly poking the touch screen, as there was when we were waiting. Yes, this is a family restaurant, but at least their Andy Armadillo mascot — offspring available as plush toys — doesn’t jolly up to tykes like that suck-up Chuck E. Cheese.

The grown-up orientation starts at a cooler-case, with red hunks basking under an orange Budweiser sign. The place takes its steaks seriously, hand-cutting them in the kitchen and listing cooking specs in the menu: "rare, cool red center," etc. Similarly, you don’t have to worry about their opening cans rather than preparing fresh vegetables in the kitchen, our waitress informed us. They even make their half-dozen salad dressings there.

What won me over almost as much was a frank admission in the menu, which started right off saying that the chain started in Indiana, back in 1993. No jokey fable about a mescal-inspired vision of the perfect chili under a saguaro outside El Paso. We’re a theme restaurant and we’re proud, is the attitude. Maybe it would take some Midwest dude rather than a cowboy to come up with their most fun feature: every half hour or so, most of the waitstaff drop what they are doing and joins in a line dance to one of a half-dozen country songs.

The food could be an afterthought, but a food industry consumer survey rated it the number one steakhouse last year. I could see why before tasting, noticing cloth napkins as we approached our table — when eating ribs, sticky fingers on paper napkins is the tactile equivalent to fingernails on a blackboard. Three yips and a lifted Stetson, Texas Roadhouse. I appreciated that more than the bucket of complementary peanuts on every table.

Oh yes, the food. The combo appetizer ($8.49) was the way to check out the starters. Our waitress warned us that the "Rattlesnake Bites" would be hot, and four big jalapeño and cheese poppers were filling-melters, indeed. Chicken tenders are my favorite kid food, and the "Chicken Critters" were not fried to death and came with four dips. The potato skins weren’t successful, broiled dry in places. Hot rolls were served — unaccountably, no cornbread — and came with cinnamon-flavored whipped butter.

Our waitress said she recommends to head-scratchers the ribeye steak or the ribs, so I had both. That combo plate is $17.99 and, like all the dinners, comes with choice of two sides. I didn’t have to worry about messy fingers, because the meat fell off the bone, moist and under a tasty BBQ sauce. The steak was cooked as requested and flavorful even drowned in the rich brown sauce with fresh mushrooms and raw onions that I’d added for a couple bucks. The steak fries were much too salty from whatever seasoning was on them, but the baked beans impressed me — they were pintos, and some places try to foist off even chili with cheaper beans, such as kidneys.

Johnnie’s oven-roasted chicken ($8.99) was half of a small bird, skin crisp and nicely seasoned, flesh juicy. Her side of mixed veggies looked steamed, I mentioned, but she said that the operative adjective was "great."

Desserts are all-American standards: strawberry cheesecake, apple pie and a "Big Ol’ Brownie," all under $5. Ordering that last one, we had the vanilla ice cream there, with its chocolate sauce, and saved the icing-covered brownie — cakey but fudgey — for home. Mmmm.

If Texas is a state of mind, as these folks suggest, it’s a pretty convenient place to visit. Or, as Lou put it, "good, cheap. peanuts. pick yr own meat!! and line-dancing!!! what’s not to like?!?!?"

Bill Rodriguez can be reached at bill@billrod.com.