Ruby Tuesday's

Festus Mo.

http://www.rubytuesday.com/

Ruby T’s is in large part responsible for this whole review effort. Three years ago my little family was in a rut. When we went out to eat it was always to the same few places. Ruby T’s hurt me, made me angry. In the span of one month, while celebrating some minor event or another, we treated ourselves to steak dinners there.

The first was simply perfect. Even the tea was crisp and tasty. The mashed potatoes and grilled green beans topped with onion straws complimented the small thick rare steak perfectly. The next time though, same meal, nearly nothing was right. No huge mistakes, just an avalanche of small annoyances, the onion straws had been omitted, the potatoes were too salty, the steak overcooked and rubbery, even the tea was cloudy.

My nit-picking at these screw-ups motivated me to write a letter to the management. As I wrote it, what I read back was very much a restaurant review, not wholly unlike you see in magazines, newspapers and on TV.
Having been disappointed with a favorite place, we decided to see what else was out there, find new places to try and to compare them against our old favorites and each other. Thus, Eat and Critique was born.

Now, three years in, we’ve found several new places, added some to our favorites and discarded some of our old haunts in favor of newer, better places.

The Place:

Below Lowes overlooking the interstate. Right next to the big-box store’s parking lot, which was built atop a family cemetery. The graves were not relocated as no remaining relatives of that family could be located. SO if you are the superstitious type, be aware that the Lowes parking lot may be haunted. Some say that the wandering spirits of those interred there have been know to shove shopping carts into late model luxury SUV’s parked there to spite the intruders. (I just made up that last part )

Ruby T’s is like the other places of that type, Applebees, Chili’s, Outback, a steakhouse/sports bar.

Unlike the other places, Ruby decided to take all that kitschy sports crap off the walls, it recently remodeled itself. The bar remains, but the dining area is nearly sports-free. For that I say 'thank you Ruby T.' There’s too much sports around anyhow. You can barely order a pizza, enjoy a burger or sip a cup of coffee without being inundated with sports.

So the place is now muted dark walls, large, nondescript artwork and bland music, recent covers of 70’s ballads mostly, playing too loudly throughout the non-sports dining area.

The small, friendly hostess made note of our arrival and handed us off to another young lady to find us a seat. We took a large booth by a window. Yet another lady, Kimberly I believe, was to be our caretaker. We were greeted and offered something unintelligible, though it sounded like some sort of mixed drink, I just couldn’t make out exactly what it was called. She handed us menus, mentioned some specials, then took our drink orders. Tea, of course, Adam’s Coke, then Angel threw in a wrench, asking “What kind of lemonades do you offer?”

I only knew of two kinds of lemonade, pink and non-pink. Apparently other options have been invented. Kimberly rattled off a list of fruits, some familiar, some I believe she was just making up. “Raspberry sounds good.” Angel declared declaratively.

Raspberries are fairly common and have been around for the entire six thousand years of the world’s existence. Remnants of the berry can be found in primitive cave dwellings, and recorded ancient history even remarks on them. In Germany, raspberry was used to tame bewitched horses by tying a bit of the cane to the horse's body.* Knowing this, I didn’t see any problem with Angel’s lemonade choice, she can sometimes use a little taming of her own bewitched-ness.

The Food:

I had announced earlier that I wasn’t really in the mood for steak. I would eat those words later since I didn’t really see anything else as good. I’ve tried other things at Ruby T’s, but by far my favorite is the petit sirloin. And here’s why.  It’s the salad bar.

My salad, and a biscuit
in the background.

We like salad. I prefer a multiple component blend, lots of ingredients, piled high. This is tough at home since salad ingredients don’t have a long shelf life. Since there’s so few of us the bulk of produce always goes bad before we get halfway through it. So we have good salads a day or two after grocery day, then that’s about it.

Ruby T’s keeps their salad bar stocked, fresh, and  ample. I told Angel that it was a good thing that they made you order your entire meal before your trip to the salad bar, else you’d really not want much more. Ruby T’s has the best stocked salad bar this side of Potosi.

So the petit sirloin is almost an obvious choice. It’s a thick juicy steak, just not a very big one. I ordered mine with the salad bar and a side of mashed potatoes. I could have ordered a baked potato, but once again, salad bar.

Angel chose my second choice, the shellfish trio. Crab cake, lobster tail and shrimp. Adam went for the Buffalo chicken minis, and fries.

We dived into the luscious salad bar. I remembered to not grab so much lettuce, better to make room for the peppers, cucumbers tomatoes, beans, mushrooms, onions, potato salad and apple salad. Angel and Adam had their own blends, topped with those nasty dark, rubbery croutons they love so much.

Petit Sirloin

While we were acting like drunken pigs at the bar, our table had been served with a platter of small cheesy biscuits. Tasty, warm, no butter required.

We went at our salads like sailors at a discount brothel. The plates were cleaned up pretty quick, unlike sailors at a discount brothel, and then, almost as if on cue, the main courses arrived.

A small, thick, juicy steak, a small dollop of mashed potatoes. Angel asked for more biscuits, Kimberly was happy to comply.

The steak peeled apart easily. Juices swirled out and moistened the potatoes. Excellent, simply excellent. Angel gave me a taste of her crab cake, it was crabby, not bread-y.  As a light side she’d opted for the spaghetti squash, which she didn’t finish because “It was too much like everything at the salad bar, and I’d had enough salad.” I tasted it. I didn’t spit it out, nor did I write home about it.

Shellfish Trio, Spaghetti Squash

Adam made quick time of his minis, which were “Not too spicy.”

I didn’t quite finish my steak, too much salad bar, there were perhaps a couple of bites left. Angel was disappointed that there were only three shrimp, she really liked the spice rub on them. The lobster was overcooked, she said, adding that she’d expected as much. I’ve yet to eat at a Midwestern restaurant that didn’t overcook their lobster.

Kimberly came by, offered us dessert, we laughed. I asked her about whatever it was that she’s originally offered us, “. . . something in honor of the Olympics.” 

Buffalo Chicken Minis

“Oh, the Star Spangled Rita!” She cheerfully recalled. “Can I get you one?”

“No thanks, I’m not a fan of margaritas, I was just trying to figure out what you’d said.”

“Well, there not really like a traditional margarita, more like a ‘bomb-pop margarita’.”

I gagged at the very thought of the hyper-sweetness of such a thing.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” 


Summary:

As I’d said earlier, sometimes, but not all the time, Ruby gets it right. This was definitely one of those nights. The steak, salad, side, biscuits, even the tea were fresh and perfectly served. Kimberly was exceptional, friendly and dutiful, the music was a bit too loud, but other than that the meal was spot-on.

The bill came in at just over fifty dollars, more than a fast food place but absolutely better quality food and service. If Ruby Tuesday’s can remain consistent, I’ll keep them on top of my list of places to eat.

 ____________________________________

*Source:  http://www.thepracticalherbalist.com



 

Ruby Tuesday

1120 Shapiro Dr.
Festus, MO

www.rubytuesday.com

This option pretty much chose itself. We’d been to Ruby’s a couple of times during the quest, but it had been awhile. It probably wouldn’t have been the choice had it not been for an email I received from the chain. “25% off your entire food purchase.” It said. That’s hard to pass up. I gave Ruby’s my (alternate) email address a few years back. I feel no conflict about this I’m not asking for any advantage at any restaurant that isn’t also offered to the public at large. Some places send out deals like this from time to time. I don’t always accept the offer, but it’s available to everyone.

The Place:

Above I-55, just below Lowes and the Waffle House. It had changed on the inside. Gone were all the sports-related knick-knacks, sleds, jerseys, oars, hockey sticks. The walls were painted a muted neutral color and a few, and only a few generic art prints were scattered about. The Large TV’s were limited to the area around the bar and muted. The background music was soft, and forgettable. The place was still dark, even with the large shaded lamps hanging from the ceiling. So dark that I immediately realized that any attempt at photographing the food with my flimsy phone would prove to be a disappointment. I could take my good camera, but in this place that would still require me to use a flash, and I don’t imagine those around me would appreciate that.

The wait staff was still ninja-like, black pants and shirts, though a couple of the young ladies had hems of bright red peeking out from beneath their overshirts. Our hostess reminded me a great deal of the Actress Stana Katic, who plays Kate Beckett on the TV series “Castle”. She  had those same slightly exotic Balkan features that are not Hollywood-template-pretty, more eastern-European pretty. (Katic’s parents, Serbian father and Croat mother immigrated to Canada and later Illinois, from Yugoslavia.) I do not know if our hostess was of similar lineage, I thought it would be rude to ask. I did note that the hostess carried more meat on her bones than Katic does. The actress can’t weigh more than seventy five pounds dripping wet and if you ask me is way TOO skinny, unattractively so.

We were seated in a distant booth pretty quickly though the place was filling up fast. Among the patrons were a dozen or so young ladies in prom-style dresses. Evening or party dresses I guess, I was not aware of a homecoming or prom in the area, though there was obviously something like that going on. I watched as small clutches of them would venture to the restroom together. Why girls want company in restrooms is of course, a complete mystery to me. When I go to a restroom I really am not about to do anything I wish to share with even my closest friends.

We read through our menus though I’d previewed it online earlier and was all but decided. We asked for drinks, tea, sweet tea and Coke.

The Food:

Ruby’s best feature is its salad bar. I’ve spoken of this before and it bears repeating. It is far and above the best salad bar I’ve come across anywhere. Well stocked, well managed, diverse and fresh. I knew this going in and planned accordingly. It’s very easy to overdo the salad and not have room for a big steak and potato meal. So I ordered from the salad/meal combination section. ‘Mini’s and Garden Bar’. Angel ordered form the same section, obviously aping my cleverness. Her choice was the Lobster Mac and Cheese & Garden Bar.  Adam, continuing and completing the aping ordered the Mini’s and Garden Bar as well. We were directed to the salad bar and Angel already had her plate half-filled before the various papers and napkins stopped fluttering in her wake. She loves this salad bar.

Three kinds of lettuce, spinach, peppers, onions mushrooms, cheeses, peas, bacon bits, potato salad, fruit salad, on and on and on. At least ten different dressings, I like to mix them up. A little blue cheese, some Thousand Island, a drizzle of Italian. . .

My little plate was packed, but I was okay with that knowing that the follow up, the little burgers, would still fit into my gullet quite nicely. Returning to the table we sat our plates down and began the pseudo-vegetarian carnage. The drinks had arrived, the tea was actually quite good. Ruby’s is kind of hit and miss on the tea, it was a good night though. And the biscuits. Ruby Tuesday’s luscious cheesy biscuits. Those little delights and a big sloppy salad are enough for a meal in themselves, All-you-can-eat, yummy goodness.

The arrival, a bit premature, of the main courses was almost a non-event. Adam and I were given our small plates with two sliders, a small dose of fries and a small tin bowl of ketchup each. Angel’s mac and cheese was cheesy, steamy, drippy served in a small, half-inch tall rectangular stoneware bowl. Chunks of lobster were prevalent. I almost hated pushing my awesome salad aside, but I was hankering for some meat.

The sliders were about the size and shape of White Castle’s but were a bit meatier and didn’t have whatever WC puts in theirs to make them both insanely addictive and violently diarrhetic at the same time. The tiny burgers were cooked medium well, no small feat as the patties were quite small. There was ketchup and a pickle on the top side, and the bottom of the small bun was coated with mayonnaise. Why mayonnaise? I have no idea. I think it’s a Canadian thing.

“Where do you get such small buns?” Adam asked, staring at his slider.

“Treadmill, lots of time on a treadmill.” I answered, adding: "and better DNA"

Angel oohed and ahhed over her chunky cheesy dish. “Lots of lobster.” She said with strings of melted cheese hanging from her chin.

As we slowed down for the final stretch the topic of haircuts came up, as I was going to get one the next day.

“I just grab a pair of scissors and head to the bathroom and start chopping off the parts I don’t like.” She boasted.

“I have to have mine done by professionals to maintain a professional appearance.”

“Are you saying I don’t look professional?” She accused.

“You’re a dog trainer, the frontier look works just fine for your profession.”

Oddly enough Angel took exception to this innocent and flattering comment. I spent the next few minutes trying to get her to understand that it was a compliment. She remained stubbornly unconvinced. I tried to steer the conversation to neutral ground by bringing up the Super Bowl. This didn’t work well since none of us are the least bit interested in football, we couldn’t even agree on who would be playing in it. Finally we started discussing evening entertainment and decided to stop at Blockbuster after our meal. Bullet dodged.

Summary:

All good. Ruby’s has disappointed us before, and yet they have been quite exceptional at many other times. This was a good night indeed. The coup de gras of course was that not only did we have a 25% off coupon, we, for once, actually remembered to bring it with us. Thus this great and satisfying meal only cost us about thirty five dollars. Sure we didn’t have big steaks or appetizers, but the meal was excellent.  The portions were intelligently chosen to accentuate the place’s strong suit, the salad bar. The main courses were small yet satisfying. Adam even mentioned that the fries were among his favorite. Angel’s dish over time seemed very rich, but since the portion was small, it was great. I found no fault in the food or the service and the price? Wow!

Highly recommended, but read the menu ahead of time and for the love of all that may or may not be holy or even just coincidental, get a coupon!

Ruby Tuesday’s

Festus, MO

Sure, we’d been there before, but we decided to go and have something different. Usually I get a steak, and they make a pretty good one, but on this day I simply wasn’t in the mood.

First, we were going on Sunday rather than our usual Saturday, Adam’s new job required him to work on our normal night. On Sunday morning I woke up, Angel was already out with the dogs, as usual. I knew she wouldn’t be up for long. I’d been up most of the night myself tending to some work systems to protect them from the switch back from Daylight Savings Time. I was groggy and sluggish but still managed to trek to the Circle K convenience store to get a cup of dark roast coffee. I just can’t seem to get a good cup at home, our water just doesn’t allow for it.

So I sipped my coffee, watched CBS Sunday Morning and wolfed down a microwaved sausage biscuit. Angel took advantage of my being up and headed in for a nap. This is typical of our Sundays, her napping and me babysitting our dogs as they snooze in the warm sunny spots by the sliding door. Bailey, the grand matron of the pack, patrolled the back yard warding off squirrels, motorcycles and some unseen things.

At one point her resonant baritone bark seemed more focused, more determined, I slipped out the door to the deck to see if she’d spotted a deer, rhinoceros, or wandering vagrant. I couldn’t see what had her attention, and she broke off the alert after a few moments and continued her patrol.

The morning was warming up, the fallen leaves rustled in the slight breeze. I was just standing there enjoying the moment, thinking about how long it would be before it would be too cold to just stand out there without a jacket. Into my field of vision came a small bee. It was staggering in flight, showing poor control. It was late in the year for bees to be just flitting about, no pollen bearing plants anywhere around. Just as my mind comprehended that this was a small bee, and how it was odd to see one this late, it clumsily dived and landed directly on my face, just below my left eye. In less time than it took for me to think “Hey, there’s a bee on my face!” The critter buried it’s stinger into my fleshy upper cheek. I believe I yelped since I am prone to do such things. I pulled it away and slammed it into the ground where it disappeared into the leaves and grass, dying a slow agonizing death if there is in fact any cosmic justice in the universe. My face burned fiercely. I was suddenly fully awake.

I powered up my laptop to find out what to do, whether or not to wash/ice/medicate it. I couldn’t recall being allergic to bee stings, but then again allergies sometimes do not start until later in life. I already felt some swelling and I thought I could feel the burning poison seeping deeper and deeper.

I found a site that had pretty specific instructions, so I washed the stung area and applied an ice pack. Actually it was a bag of frozen lima beans. I kept an eye on it and for the next hour it did not seem to be getting much worse, though it had swelled and reddened and had freezer-burned into it the logo from the lima bean bag. The web site mentioned that Benadryl was recommended to stop the swelling. I knew Angel had some but I decided to wait for her to wake up before bothering with it. I also recalled that Benadryl makes her woozy. This I feared greatly. She has a much higher tolerance for over-the-counter drugs than I do. I get dizzy form M&M’s and the stronger stuff, like Ibuprofen and antihistamines, are darned near narcotic to my sensitive yet handsome system. But I had no choice, Dr. Internet said I needed to take some Benadryl.

So the rest of the day, I froze my face with lima beans, suffered the drowsiness and general mental degradation of Benadryl/lack of sleep from the night before, and checked my otherwise beautiful face in the mirror every hour or so.

By the time we were ready to go out, I wasn’t as hungry as I usually am. I was in fact a bit queasy, bitter, and melancholy.

THAT’s why I didn’t want steak. Steak is best when you are feeling good, on top of the world.

The Place:
Just down from Lowes (which sits on top of a family cemetery, but that’s another story) Ruby Tuesday’s is one of our former regular places. It’s a stand-alone and fancies itself a sports bar, though there were not many sports persons there on this day.

We were immediately seated by one of the six young ladies, all clad in black, that were hovering at the door. We were shown to a table, a hybrid, with a booth seat on one side and chairs on the other, this pleased us all. We ordered our drinks, tea, tea and Coke. And our waiter introduced himself in a lilting manner. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

We scanned the menus, I was looking for not-steak. There was plenty to choose from and in quick order I decided. Adam didn’t take long either. Angel struggled enough to send the lilting waiter away for a few more minutes. She finally surrendered to her reluctant choice.

We ordered and were brought a small plate of garlic cheese biscuits, a new item on their menu. Overhead at the bar a sports competition was underway on the ceiling mounted television set. A helmeted team of large men in green jerseys were standing around pulling on various body parts as some referees conferred on a matter of obvious universal importance in the middle of the field. Yikes, what a tedious enterprise. All the other times I looked up at it, there were only commercials for beer and large pickup trucks.

The Food:

I ordered the crabcake dinner, with a baked potato and grilled green beans. Angel asked for the barbecue ribs, baked potato and broccoli (yuk). Adam the Smokehouse burger, sans tomato and onion rings, with a side of fries. We all ordered the salad bar, because RT’s has the best salad bar in the county.

We piled our salads high with four types of greens, five different shredded cheeses, onions, peppers, cucmbers, mushrooms, slaw, apple salad, grapes, bacon, bologna, carrots, tomatoes, and our choices from nine different dressings (of which I drizzle on three, Thousand Island, Bleu Cheese and a vinaigrette.) Adam and Angel LOVE the dark, thick croutons, I don’t. Everything about the salad bar and the individual salads was excellent, fresh and plentiful. Except for the slaw which was very, very bland. We asked for another round of those cheesy biscuits, this could have been the meal in itself, highly recommended!

Crabcake:

This was not as easy a choice as it might appear. I was biased. I KNEW the crabcake was not going to be as good as I hoped, it never, ever is. I’ve had the best crabcake in the world. Nothing else has ever been remotely as good. There are those that might disagree with me on this, I do recognize that people have opinions that do not square with mine, I do not for the life of me understand why, and I certainly do not respect it, but I do recognize that such a confounding state exists.

The Captain’s Table, Solomons, Maryland.

It’s a small, old, slightly warped and weather worn restaurant on the shore where the Patuxent River meets the Chesapeake Bay. It’s behind the Day’s Inn, where I spent a couple of months back in 2001 after getting a job with the Navy at the nearby base. Too pricey for casual meals, it was a great place that Angel and I enjoyed on special occasions like birthdays, anniversaries and ‘a desperate craving for cream of crab soup’ during the five years we spent in Maryland.

If it weren’t a thousand miles away from my current residence I’d go there as often as fiscally possible. The crabcakes are perfect, the soup, simply to die for. I don’t even know what else they serve.

Enough about that though, back to reality, present time.

The Food: (cntd.)

We were served, the plates sizzled and the waiter warned us about the hotness of the plates. My crabcake was burger-sized, grilled to a lovely brown. The beans were almost charred and glistened in their coating of oil. The potato was substantial, and topped with butter, real butter and sour cream. There was a dipping sauce for the crabcake, which I tasted and scooted away. Too spicy, I like the subtlety of crabcakes, I don’t want or need to hot-wing them up.

I prepped the potato, which basically means I shredded it, peel and all, to make sure none of the dairy toppings went to waste. I tasted the beans, tender, grilled, very good. The first bite of crabcake was satisfying, not really bad at all. There was definitely crab in it, real crab, not that ‘Krab’ you see in grocery stores in the Midwest, the stuff with the curious orange striping.

Not too much breading, this is where many places absolutely blow it. Crab has a sweet, delicate taste and can be smothered by too much breading or mayonnaise, though it sings beautifully when the proportions are correct.

The next few bites were okay as well. About halfway through though I became bored and frustrated with it. I dared not speak what was on my mind. I offered Angel a bite, then another. She didn’t sense it. I couldn’t say it, but there it was. I was actually preferring the potato over the crabcake, a sin in anyone’s Bible. I’m sorry, the crabcake was too salty. There I’ve said it. The potato, even with all that butter and sour cream was not salty, the beans were not salty, it was the crabcake. I’d swear an oath to it, but I’m not supposed to declare anything too salty. I will say it wasn’t WAAAY too salty, just too salty for my delicate taste buds. It wasn’t awful, just not up to my already lowered expectations.

Angel let me try a chunk of her ribs, which she tossed at me from the end of her fork. I’m not a good judge of ribs, I find them all too greasy. But she was going crazy over them so I told her it was quite good. It’s not beneath me to lie to her (or anyone else) to keep the peace. Adam didn’t finish his burger, but not because it wasn’t good. He’d worked the night before so his sleep/eating schedule was off, and his salad had been enormous. We boxed it up and took it home.

Summary:

All in all a very good experience, even with my issues with the crabcake. I did finish it. The combination of an exceptional salad bar, those wonderful biscuits and overall high quality more than made up for a single petty weakness.

The tab came in under fifty six dollars before tip, not cheap, but the food was mostly top-drawer. The price is typical of this caliber of chain restaurants, so comparatively not bad at all. We will go back, and of all the chains around this is my personal favorite. Maybe not crabcakes again, but they’ve got plenty of other stuff to choose from.

Ruby Tuesday's

I’ve mentioned before that this whole exercise, to find different places to eat came about after experiences at Ruby Tuesday’s. Our first meal there was phenomenal, but three attempts to recapture that excellence each ended in frustration.
On Saturday we had planned to try an Italian place a client of Angel’s had recommended, not only did he offer a recommendation; he backed it up with a gift certificate. The accompanying card advised to call ahead for reservations. When Angel did so on Saturday afternoon, she was told that the place was not taking reservations for the times we requested five to six PM. They suggested either four PM (too early) or seven PM (too late).
This left us blank, none of us could come up with an alternative. So we did what we had done so many times in the past, we defaulted to an old familiar. This is one of the problems with a household made up completely of introverts.* This is how we ended up at RT’s.

The Place:
Between Lowes and Intestate 55 in Festus, the large parking lot on this very chilly evening** was nearly but not completely full. We were ushered immediately to a table, past the very item that Angel likes the most about this place, the salad bar. I have to admit it’s a pretty darn good one.
We were seated and handed our menus in a booth along the drafty windows. We were directly beneath a speaker that was belting out just a little too loudly seventies and eighties mild rock. Some of the songs were okay, some were Disco. At a distance there was a professional football game playing on TV screens but not close enough to maintain an interest or cause frustration or distress.
Along the walls were Sports-Americana items, oars, skates, sleds, framed jerseys and posters and photos of sports-related people. The lighting was provided by suspended lamps with dim bulbs hanging over the tables.
The Food:
The menus had changed a little in the months since we last ventured there. We noted the addition of lobster in various configurations. This was very tempting, we lunged at it.
Angel and I both ordered the sirloin and lobster with the salad bar of course. We also asked for the creamy mashed potatoes and the sautéed green beans with onion straws.
The disappointment began exactly at this point. We were informed that they no longer served the sautéed green beans with onion straws, a side I absolutely loved. This sent our faces back into the menu where Angel came out first calling out ‘snap peas’. In my mind they were the same color as green beans generally the same shape so I too requested them.
Adam ordered the buffalo chicken mini sandwiches with fries, no salad bar.
Of course tea, tea and Coke. The tea was fresh, bright and excellent. I suspect it is something other that Lipton, though I do not know for sure.
The salad bar as I said is among the best I’ve come across anywhere. The selection is all fresh and plentiful. There is some iceberg lettuce but it is just one form of leafy green among many. I chose the other stuff; I don’t know what it’s called, romaine etc. and plenty of spinach. As for toppings there are many. I tonged up about twenty grape tomatoes, bacon chunks, cucumbers, bell peppers, mushrooms, two types of shredded cheese, a spoonful each of dirty potato salad and apple salad. This was topped by a small dose my favorite two-dressing combo, Thousand Island and Bleu Cheese.
Angel timidly picked through her preferences then went nasty on the croutons. Her and Adam rave about the croutons there, I don’t care for them. They are very dark and to me seem to have the consistency of small chunks of a radial tire. She doubled, tripled up on those since she knew Adam would pluck most of them. She insists the croutons are the best anywhere, I recognize and respect her inalienable right to be completely wrong about certain things.
I tried to not eat my entire salad, saving room for the steak and lobster, but I failed miserably. Everything was so fresh and so good that it was not possible to leave much on the plate. As predicted Adam took about half of the croutons off Angel’s salad.
The wait for our meals was longer than usual. The music slid unmercifully into a meandering, mind bruising Whitney Houston ballad followed by an equally grating, sappy love song from Peter Cetera.
When the main courses finally arrived the salad was a barely remembered thing of the past. The first thing I did after checking for the rareness of my steak was to try the peas. They were in a word, awful. Green peas are potentially overpowering among more subtle flavors. It only takes a few in a stir fry or stew to completely take over the dish. Here on my plate, still in the pods were a big pile of them, and there they stayed. Too sweet, too strong and the texture was that of parboiled slugs.
The creamy mashed potatoes at RT’s are the absolute best I recall having anywhere; very smooth and creamy, slightly, only slightly herbed, simply dreamy. Had they taken them off the menu I would have stormed out and burned the place down.
The steak was cooked perfectly; unfortunately the beef itself was quite less than first rate. I’ve had worse to be sure (Cracker Barrel), but this one was just a little too tough; not enough marbling, the obvious sign of significantly less than grade AAA beef. It was far from awful though.
The lobster was surprising in more than one way. First there were three lobster tails in shells. Don’t be alarmed, they were tiny; only about three to four inches long and only about a half inch in diameter. I’ve had crawdads this size. The other surprise was that they were fantastic! Perfectly cooked, subtly seasoned and generously buttered. They complemented the so-so steak exactly as some high god or another intended the notion of surf and turf to do.
Angel’s delight and surprise was the same as mine. We wolfed it all down rather quickly leaving behind entire portions of the peas and desperate fingernail and tooth marks on the tiny lobster shells. Adam left nothing behind; the small spicy chicken sandwiches suited him just fine.

Summary:
All in all it was a pretty good meal; less so for the price. This is among the pricier of the chain restaurants/sports bars. Ruby Tuesday’s is currently under an up-scaling mission reaching out to the upper-upper middle class a little more. In my mind they are pennies away from pricing themselves out of the local market. With tip the meal for three totaled nearly seventy dollars. At that price range, the steaks need to be better quality and the lobster needs to be closer to actual size. The salad bar is beyond compare though, even with the Goodyear croutons.
I will score this experience, primarily against itself. I have had a perfect meal at RT’s, once. This visit would rate at best an eighty five. The snap peas, the lesser quality of the meat and the overall expense weighed heavily.
We will probably go back, the salad bar calls to us. As for recommending to others, yeah, sure, maybe. By that I mean that if someone were to suggest taking me there, I’d accept.


* Introverts: Based on Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) assessment tests.

** “Very chilly” is an understatement. At the time of this outing the area had been suffering through more than a week of brutal, soul-sucking cold temperatures. Only once in the previous six to eight days had the thermometer ventured near twenty degrees and on that day it was blustery and it dropped more than three inches of dry thin snow, the consistency of shredded ice. Most days topped out in the low teens. At these temperatures even a mild breeze turns the air into razorblades. The draftiness of the windows mentioned later in the review was more a result of the extreme outside temperature than the quality of windows.