We definitely don’t consider ourselves food snobs. Any regular reader knows we get as excited over a good corn dog as we do over a beautifully prepared chunk of foie gras. But we got a little suspicious when we walked into Highway 61 Roadhouse and Kitchen. It looks an awful lot like one of those mass-produced theme restaurants full of fake memorabilia from The Good Old Days. The general focus is on the road that runs from St. Louis to New Orleans via the Mississippi Delta. (And Ann’s hometown; hello, Desloge!) Murals with well-known musicians who cut their chops along the highway line one wall.
It’s popular. Early on a Friday evening, the joint was jumping, and not just with the live music. Multigenerational family groups, office parties, theater-bound couples, all chowing down on the wide-ranging menu. There are St. Louis items like gooey butter cake and New Orleans’ barbecued shrimp, but just as much attention is paid to the food of the rural South. And that’s mostly where we went prowling. If rural South is not a favorite, there’s pizza, steaks, seafood and a dish described as "St. Louis famous onion soup."
Stuffed mushrooms were immense, filled with what’s advertised as a mixture of shrimp, crab, crawfish and artichokes. The seafood taste was mild - we’d skipped the Asiago cheese that normally comes on top, a move that turned out to let us savor the seafood more - and it stayed nice and moist. The sauce served alongside looked like a remoulade, but turned out to be a mild, cheese-ish dip. (Next visit we’re investigating the killed salad, which is what used to be called wilted lettuce.)
A barbecue sampler gave us some excellent ribs, moist and richly flavored, chewy at the edges, with lots more meat than bone. The chicken quarter was white meat that had also stayed moist, not always easy with the front parts of the bird. Only the pulled pork disappointed with a strange, soft texture, managing to be, simultaneously, both grainy and mushy. St. Louisans should mostly approve of the barbecue sauce, a tomato-based sweet-sharp one. Baked beans had also been on the fire too long, losing texture, but keeping their molasses/brown sugar/green pepper flavor intact. Slaw, we’d bet, has some shredded or chopped apple in it, giving a fresh note to the whole thing.
We’re both fond of the fish known hereabouts as jack salmon, although it’s called whiting in most the rest of the nation. The critter’s flesh is mild and it’s extremely easy to debone, a good fish for kids to gain some expertise in knife-and-forkery. Offered as a special, a pair of them came out hot and fresh, nicely seasoned and not overcooked. Something called "cream corn souffle" was intriguing, and delicious, too. It was a six-inch metal pan filled with something very close to cornbread, although considerably moister, topped with a ping-pong ball-sized blob of honey butter. Thinking of days in the South, and even in Little Dixie, we simply had to order something called BBQ spaghetti. Forget al dente, of course, although fear not; it was less mushy than Chef Boy-Ar-Dee. The pasta, credited to Memphis,
was heavy with the sweet-tangy barbecue sauce although mostly missing the promised "chunks of pulled pork." We saw three small pieces of meat. But it was goofily good, the sort of thing the mom of a childhood pal might have put on the table one night when you stayed for supper.
We’ll try The King, a French-toasted PB and banana sandwich, on the next visit, and a gooey butter cake variation described as Ragin’ Cajun Chocolate. This time, we went for the lemon icebox pie. For those who didn’t had this particular dish in their past, this is a lemon version of key lime pie, the lemon juice thickening the condensed milk and the whole thing poured into a graham cracker crumb crust. It’s deeply homey, especially since it’s topped with a huge blob of whipped cream. We’d have liked it more tart, lemon being the point of the whole thing, but that’s a fairly minor complaint.
Amiable service, much more of a beer sort of place than wine, and with a very long list of brewery products. The main dining area tends to be rather noisy from the music, but some relief can be found in a second dining room, a half-flight up. But dinner was a good experience, with tasty dishes, and we were quite content with the Roadhouse, with no pretense toward providing a fine dining experience, but doing what it does extremely well.
Highway 61 Roadhouse and Kitchen
34 S. Old Orchard Ave., Webster Groves
314-968-0061
Lunch & Dinner, Monday-Saturday
Credit Cards
Wheelchair Access: Good
Smoking: Yes
Entrees: $7-$36
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