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In search of the Holy Grail of steaks By JOSEPH TREVIÑO
joseph.trevino @delrionewsherald.com
In a state where barbecues reign supreme, where grilled meat is a fine art, it’s hard to find the Holy Grail of steakhouses. We may just have it in Del Rio. Originally from California, I, like most Southern Californians, am
STEAKS
From Page C1 tagious, turning us tofugrubbing Californians into carnivorous fiends. Here, in Del Rio, I have seen the light. Sure, Los Angeles spawned the original Spago restaurant, where superstar chefs placed the mesquite grill at center stage. Since then, everyone followed and with the years it became a fad and now most restaurants are back to more artsy high cuisine and almost have forgotten about woodfiring the meat. That’s not the case at Cripple Creek Steakhouse and Saloon. And though it definitely is an elegant, highclass place complete with striking servers and haute couture western decorations, it places its deepest emphasis on food. Chef Chris Ortiz, a native Del Rioan who studied at Le Cordon Bleu of Austin (yes, the school affiliated with the Parisian house renowned for centuries for its school of chefs), is the lord of the cozy kitchen, where the grill, fired by real mesquite wood, is the star of this culinary show. We started off with a large goblet of cocktail shrimp. Made in classic American style, the cocktail had some dash of Mexican scents from the ocean. Maybe it’s because the owner, Polo Del Rio, the local businessman, is originally from Veracruz, one of the most unique Mexican states on the Atlantic coast.
surprised by the almost filial devotion Texans have for beef. Especially steak. And if the meat is grilled with firewood, then it becomes something more than just a steak — it turns into that obscure object of desire that seems to send every true Texan to bedlam. This craze is con
See STEAKS, Page 2C
If you go ... Hours: Cripple Creek Steakhouse and Saloon is open Monday through Thursday, from 5 p.m. to 10 p.m. Friday and Saturday from 5 p.m. to 11 p.m. Closed Sundays. Location: 5667 U.S. Highway 90 W Website: http://www.cripplecThe people of Veracruz are known for their easygoing charm (they are Latino Caribbeans), their zest for life, music, culture and, you guessed it, their sublime food. My wife, who is from the State of Nayarit, a place also known for its spectacular seafood (during the early part of the 20th Century some places there received immigrants from Veracruz), happily approved of the large, meaty, mouth-filling shrimps. Next were a series of appetizers that could easily take the place of a meal and even trump a full-fledge course in other places. The fried breaded mushrooms and breaded Mozzarella sticks were delicious, but the Armadillo Legs, baked Jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese and bacon almost trumped the entire course — you can tell these artisanal appetizers are the creation of a kitchen maestro. With such a prelude, I was beginning to be worried that the celebrated Angus beef, grilled lovingly by young Chef Ortiz with the mesquite wood he stores behind the kitchen would be outclassed by its spectacular appetizers. Ah, how wrong was I. The Filet Mignon was per-
fect. It almost melts in your mouth and is worthy of the most demanding aristocrat. Same for the New York Steak. Tender, juicy, leaving a pleasant scent on the palate, no doubt courtesy of the mesquite. But the showstopper was the Tomahawk Steak. This spectacular rib eye comes along with a long bone that resembles a hatchet. There’s nothing subtle about the Tomahawk. It is what it is in the best of ways; a humongous piece of blackened meat, seasoned with a recipe that dates back to the Wild West. You just can’t help staring at it like a voyeur. Its hypnotic qualities, its in your face size and savage intensity takes you back to a more primal age, long before there were connoisseurs or niminy piminy foodies. There’s something communal, almost liturgical about people in the outdoor cold, hovering around a pit, firewood-cooking a meat, blackening it to a charred crisp. Historians say that civilization began when humans went from cooking meat this way and began using a pot. The Tomahawk Steak busts through everything that’s fake and speaks to the lupine side of your palate with lovely ferocity. Your mouth is enraptured by the big, soft chunks of protein. I have had the privilege of grubbing away at Brazilian and Mexican steakhouses in Los Angeles (a true foodie paradise if there is one), Tucson, the Highlands of Jalisco, Mexico City, Dallas and
Staff photo by Joseph Treviño
The Holy Grail of steaks? Cripple Creek’s Steakhouse and Saloon Tomahawk Steak, on Tuesday. The rib eye is the creation of Chef Chris Ortiz.
Staff photo by Joseph Treviño
Polo Del Rio, inside the kitchen of Cripple Creek’s Steakhouse and Saloon, on Tuesday. He is originally from Veracruz and is also a local entrepreneur who believes all of the food in his restaurant should be fresh and of the highest quality.
the best of Fort Worth (yes, I used to live a few blocks from the Stockyards). When it comes to beef, I must say the Argentineans reign supreme, with their own version of firewood grilling, meat cuts and seasoning. But I have to admit Cripple Creek’s Tomahawk tops them all. Is it the Holy Grail of steaks?
I can’t answer that, but let’s just say the sacramental qualities of this essential part of Texan cuisine made me, a die-hard urban-dweller, understand Texas more than anything else. I believe that if real Texan steakhouses like Cripple Creek and others would surface in the full-of-itself East Coast or gentrified California, these
folks would not judge Texans in such stereotypical ways and truly appreciate the state more. Now I know why Texans are the way they are. Here in Del Rio, the Tomahawk has shown me the way. I once was lost, but now I’m found.