Hill’s Burgers – Canyon, Texas

EDITOR’S NOTE: Embracing our wanderlust in the summer of 2010, Chicken Fried Father and I set out on an adventure to traverse the “Amarillo Highway,” a stretch of road that runs from Port Lavaca to Texline (on the border of New Mexico) and immortalized in a song by Terry Allen. The following entries chronicle our trip, food-wise at least.

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Just outside Palo Duro State Park is the little town of Canyon, Texas. South of town is Hill’s Burgers, a little burger café with a wide menu. Since it was 10:30 in the morning and we had several hundred miles to cover that afternoon, we chose to eat…uh, light… and go for some sandwich fare.

I chose the chicken fried steak sandwich. Inspired by the traveling the highway and the Canyon, I noticed that all the sandwiches had the option for chili to be added. Done. Our friendly waitress said she had never heard of it before, but seeing the smile on our faces made her a believer. The flavor combination was excellent – the smokiness of the chili and the salty bite of the chicken fried steak made for a wonderful amalgamation. Unfortunately, the steak was as tough as an old shoe. On my first bite, as I moved the sandwich away from my face, the remnants exploded away from my mouth as the steak remained behind. The onion rings (“best in the state” as proclaimed on the window) were tasty with a flaky crust, although the rings were cut a bit thin for my taste.

The motto of Hill’s is “you cook ‘em, you build ‘em” (a sizeable middle table allows you to put all the fixings on your burger or sandwich). So, you can only half blame them if your food isn’t good. Still, this is a fun little burger joint and I’d go back, although I’d probably opt for the burger.

The Big Texan ― Amarillo, TX

EDITOR’S NOTE: Embracing our wanderlust in the summer of 2010, Chicken Fried Father and I set out on an adventure to traverse the “Amarillo Highway,” a stretch of road that runs from Port Lavaca to Texline (on the border of New Mexico) and immortalized in a song by Terry Allen. The following entries chronicle our trip, food-wise at least.

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A standard stopping point for curiosity seekers and truck drivers intent on eating their weight in sodium, the Big Texan is a Route 66 staple. It’s hard to miss, given the giant boot outside, but the construction on the highway and fatigue nearly made us miss.

Now, I love to celebrate Texas. No doubt. But this place feels like the kind of place someone would design as a Texas casino in Las Vegas. A carnival atmosphere. Over the top, often obnoxious (especially the cowboy-clad waitstaff) and full of tourists taking photos of “what Texas is like.”

But, how was the food, you ask?

One of the worst CFS I have ever had. It was overpriced ($15.99), pre-frozen and store bought. The breading was worse than frozen CFS’s I’ve purchased at the grocery. The meat (I’m being generous calling it meat) was mushy and without any flavor. The gravy had no flavor. It was unworthy of the name chicken fried steak. The baked potato, albeit plain, was OK. In relation to the awful rest of the meal, it was a welcome addition.

But, it was big.