The Longhorn is a long-standing tradition. It’s not the steakhouse chain, although people show up with gift cards and expect to be able to use them there. I think if they’d ever been to the steakhouse chain, they would realize immediately that this place isn’t part of the same chain.
I’ve never asked why it’s called the Longhorn, but the building seems to have been architected to simulate longhorns with the roof. Who knows if the building or the name came first?
It’s been around since the 50’s and the minute you look at it, you know it. This is true both outside and in. It’s possible the counter and stools have not been replaced since the restaurant was originally opened.
But that’s part of its charm.
Its real charm, though, is the wait staff. It only took going in there twice in one week before they started looking up, smiling and saying, “Hey, Guys!” when we walked in the door. By our fourth visit, 2 servers had our “usual” pretty much down. There’s nothing like having someone remember you, look happy to see you, and manage to remember even part of what you like to eat considering how many people these ladies serve every day.
When you’re in the mood for a down-home, greasy-spoon, fill-you-up kind of breakfast, the Longhorn is top notch. If you’re trying to lose weight, don’t go there.
But, if you’re in the mood for eggs, they’ll be cooked to order perfectly (assuming you know what you’re ordering–I’ve heard people complain about over-easy eggs being runny, someday they’ll figure it out). The “scattered tatters” are crispy, traditional hash browns (shredded potatoes, fried) and are always tasty.
The bacon is usually perfect, but can be a little overly crispy if you get there at the wrong time. But whatever you order, prepare yourself for grease. There’s a lot of it.
Unless you order pancakes. The pancakes are awesome and not greasy. But don’t expect anything fancy like real butter or genuine maple syrup here–this is a place that pays tribute to its 50’s heritage with whipped margarine served in a cup and corn syrup with maple flavoring.
This is the kind of place you go when you feel like being low maintenance.
When you walk in the door and Sandy and Terry pause in the middle of slinging food because they’re genuinely glad to see you, you remember there are more important things in life than having real butter.
I love the food. For better or worse, it’s comfort food to me. But what keeps me coming faithfully back is the sense of belonging to a community of regulars. We update one another on weekend events, discuss what haircuts will look best on me, the server, or someone sitting down the counter. We trade barbs and tease one another. When people are waiting, we scoot down to make space.
It’s a nice place to eat.