5 Menu Items You Should Never Order At LongHorn Steakhouse

It's not exactly easy to keep prices low as a steakhouse these days. Beef prices are soaring, and it doesn't seem like it's going to get cheaper anytime soon. So, we should be grateful for steakhouse chains that manage to make a delicious steak dinner a moderately more affordable experience for our increasingly endangered middle class; LongHorn Steakhouse included. What could be a better emblem for a steakhouse, after all, than the long, proud horns of a steer?

But just because it's affordable and frequently delicious doesn't mean everything on the menu is perfect. Even when you go to a Michelin-starred restaurant, you'll often find some dishes are better than others. If we're being honest, certain items on the LongHorn menu just aren't worth the money. Some of these are moderately okay but still not worth buying because there are much better items you can get for around the same price. Based on customer testimony and the writer's own past experiences, here are five LongHorn Steakhouse dishes that aren't worth it.

How much would you be comfortable paying for a Salisbury steak? Well, at LongHorn Steakhouse, it's $16.29 (granted, prices may vary). They call it a Chop Steak, which sounds a good deal more high-end than the school lunch staple it's modeled after, but it's essentially the same thing; namely, ground beef formed into a patty, doused in gravy, and topped with mushrooms and onions. You've likely had it before even if you've never ordered it from LongHorn.

I've eaten it at LongHorn myself, and I can say that it's ... well, it's a Salisbury steak. Not a terrible one, all things considered. It's incredibly salty, but I have another decade or two before I have to start worrying about my blood pressure and the gravy was reasonably satisfying. The meat was also a little bland. As one review put it, "This is not a steak, it's a hamburger that's served as if it were a steak, and I think it came out of the freezer." I concur. I couldn't quite get over sitting down at a restaurant and ordering something you can get in a TV dinner. At $16.79, it's less expensive than the other steaks (even if it isn't technically a steak), but you've gotta live a little, right?

If we're talking about proper steaks, the budget choice would be the Renegade Sirloin, which goes for $17.79. (The next-cheapest option, Flo's Filet, will set you back $27.29.) It's certainly economical, and if you've had a sirloin steak before it's not a terrible example. It's got some decent flavor, even if LongHorn goes too crazy with its spicy "Prairie Dust" seasoning (as is its wont). 

The problem is it's simply too tough and chewy. Even allowing for the fact that it's a sirloin, this is supposed to be an indulgent meal, not a jaw workout. It's not terrible, exactly, but it is outclassed by its fellow steaks, which are juicier and more tender for not that much more money. (The New York Strip and Ribeye are both under $30 and magnitudes better than the sirloin.) Granted, there are customers who don't mind the texture, so it could just be luck of the draw that mine was so underwhelming — but that's hardly an excuse, is it?

Here's the thing: Ordering baby back ribs from a chain restaurant is almost never worth it. (The sole exception is Chili's with its baby back, baby back, baby back ribs, which you can recreate at home with a pressure cooker, but even then the jingle is carrying it over the finish line.) I understand that as a native New Yorker I have no reason to be a barbecue snob, but if you eat a rack of smoked ribs from even a lame, gentrified BBQ joint in Williamsburg you will never want to go back to the oven-roasted, cloyingly sweet baby back ribs of sit-down chain restaurants. Unfortunately, LongHorn Steakhouse is no exception.

The sauce is the major problem. It would be one thing if it was merely candy-apple sweet, but it's been slathered on so thoroughly that it's almost impossible to taste the actual meat. (Talk about being lost in the sauce.) A little mess is to be expected when you're eating ribs, of course, but that's no excuse for the way each rib seems to explode in a puff of pork shreds whenever you take a bite. (Pro tip to the people writing restaurant menus: "Fall-off-the-bone tender" is not always a good thing.)

The name alone should already set off alarm bells, quite frankly. Shrimp and lobster? In this economy? Maybe it's just me, but I'm more than happy to have my seafood soup pick a lane. At best, shrimp and lobster together would be a hat-on-a-hat situation, but LongHorn's Shrimp & Lobster Chowder is, alas, not the dish at its best.

This may be something that varies on a bowl-to-bowl basis, but when I tried it (admittedly quite a long time ago), there was very little lobster and honestly not that much shrimp. The shrimp that was there was a textural nightmare; rubbery, chewy, and every bit the opposite of what you want in a creamy, luxurious chowder. The chowder does have its fans, so if you try it and it rocks your world I'm happy for you. But man, it did not do it for me in the slightest.

When you specifically state in the name of a dish that it is seasoned (as opposed to being served unseasoned, like a jar of cooked rice or whatever), you expect some strong flavors. Unfortunately for LongHorn's Seasoned Rice Pilaf, the word "seasoned" belongs in some pretty big air quotes. Although it contains over 1,000 milligrams of sodium, you can hardly taste any salt in the dish, which means you can hardly taste much of anything. The other seasonings, as well as the supposed citrus element, feel almost theoretical.

Luckily, you're not wanting for solid sides at LongHorn Steakhouse. French fries and mashed potatoes provide some good starch, while Brussels sprouts are a dependable choice for the health-conscious. (Brussels sprouts also taste different now, thanks to the wonders of selective breeding.) If you want good rice, you might want to hit up your local Chinese restaurant instead.