In some parts — Texas, mainly — threatening mobs gather when they hear of a chef tweaking, improving upon or otherwise messing with chicken fried steak.
The Lone Star State’s national dish involves beef pounded into submission, breaded, fried and smothered in a peppery white gravy. Apart from leaving the option of cast iron pan or deep frying vat open to personal whims, Texans allow little deviation. Trend it up with kale or huacatay leaf, they will react with vitriolic spite. Drizzle on some brown gravy and they’ll just push it away with a “that’s country fried steak” sneer.
Matt Young and his staff at Loch Lomond Roadhouse seem to understand the reason for this faith in fundamentals. Good chicken fried steak is hearty to the point of being daunting, yet almost ethereal at times. And at this walk up joint on Cobb, they turn out a melt-in-your-mouth tender piece of Angus dipped in flour and seasoned with little more than salt and pepper.
“It’s very basic,” Shannon Ryan, one of the roadhouse’s cooks, acknowledged. “The less you do to it, the better it’s going to be.”
Under the crisp shell, swarthy red meat has only one foil. Earthy black pepper sharpens up the savor of beef and then sticks around, pricking at the back of your throat, leaving you warm and hoarse. And then you notice the airy nature of that meat and brittle coating, as well as the rich, calming influence of cream gravy.
This is chicken fried steak executed well enough to cause Texas hill country cowboys to shout out a “yee-haw” or two.
OK — Texans aren’t really the roughnecks of lore. And Loch Lomond Roadhouse does test the boundaries of the chicken fried steak rule book. For one, they dust the thing with Italian bread crumbs for a little added crackle. They also add some good sausage to the gravy, which kicks in hints of spice and oozing richness. Oh — and they serve it alongside eggs and hashbrowns on one massive breakfast plate.
None of that detracts, however, from the rustic beauty of their product. Indeed, the breaks from tradition contribute the the very character that made chicken fried steak a favorite in the first place. It’s as rough hewn as fence posts on a vast country ranch, soaring as the endless southwestern sky, filling enough to make everything else on the plate — potatoes, eggs, toast — seem like a plate of raw vegetables by comparison.
“We don’t cut corners,” Ryan said.
Chef Young has been known to block a dish from leaving his kitchen for perceived flaws. And the place has earned a reputation for quality, thanks to a dinner menu including such fineries as steamed clams and prime rib. They could afford to slack off on something as pedestrian as chicken fried steak. But they don’t.
Perhaps the kitchen staff know what might result if a group of traveling Texans encountered an underachieving (or overblown, for that matter) piece of meat. More likely, they just try to do it right.
Dave Faries can be reached at 900-2016
