The salads were plentiful and super tasty. Ma and Pa got the seasonal strawberry salad, which consisted of mixed field greens with strawberries, grapes, mandarin oranges, candied pecans, red onion, feta, and raspberry vinaigrette. My Caesar salad was also delicious, but one bite of theirs and I wished that I could take back my original order.
We all ordered different versions of their Renegade sirloin. Ma and I got the 8 oz (mine mid-rare and hers mid-well) and the fellas for the 12 ouncers (one medium and one mid-rare). In all honesty, two of the steaks ordered medium and under were the slightest bit overcooked, but not to the point of sending back. I still got a nice, solid medium, while Mr. FvF's - ordered the same way, was a perfect mid-rare. They were still delicious and perfectly edible, so we saw no point in sending them back and waiting for another steak.
We did mention the inconsistency in the steaks to our server, who was very apologetic (and very attentive and sweet all-around), but we insisted we didn't want anything to be done about it, except maybe passing a word along to the chef.
I should also note that we arrived right in the middle of Friday evening dinner rush, but didn't have to wait for a table. It was plenty busy, but the servers still took their time with each table and didn't make you feel rushed.
I do, however, have one big beef with the place that has zero to do with the food, but it really, really creases me. I'm a stylish gal who always likes to wear cute shoes. Anyone who knows me knows that you'll more easily get eaten alive by bears than see my in public without heels on. I've been walking in nothing but them since I was about 16, and it's an art I've mastered. Hell, I can even run in them. The floors at Longhorn Steakhouse are incredibly slippery, and my greatest foe. I don't know if it's the finish of the floors or a wax they use on them, but if you're wearing anything but sneakers or flip-flops, your feet will roll around underneath you like Fred Flintstone until you're assholes over elbows in the middle of their dining room floor. It's so bad, in fact, that unless I'm seated right near the ladies' room (which, ew - no thank you), I won't even make the trek no matter how bad I have to go. I'd feel a little guilty driving to another steakhouse in the Bugatti Veyron that I obtained by suing them for crippling me for life.
So, major point deduction for that, and half a point off for two out of four steaks being slightly over-cooked.
3.5 out of 5 sporks!