Some people go to the National Western Stock Show to check out the cattle.
Some go to show off their llamas. Some go to schmooze and make deals. Some go to pick up a new belt buckle.
Some just wander, ogling the tight-jeaned cowboys and cowgirls.
Me, I go to eat.
When I entered the National Western Complex for a walkabout last week, my mission was beef. Barbecued brisket, chicken-fried steak and, the king of beef, prime rib.
I admit it’s a little weird to have a steak at the stock show. You come face to face with Bessie one minute, only to sink your choppers into her cousin a few minutes later.
It’s like eating a seafood platter at the aquarium. Even if you’re eating tilapia, just seeing the dolphins swim by while you’re dining can be, well, weird.
But weird’s never stopped me before, and so last week I got a $7 general admission ticket and wandered the halls in search of beef.
There is a lot of food on offer in the complex. Sadly, most of it is totally boring. There are brisket sandwiches and turkey legs aplenty, but most are from corporate entities, with tasty but predictable flavors.
Makes sense, I guess, as these vendors are looking to feed as many people as easily and efficiently as possible, which means not straying too far into unexpected or unique flavor territory. (With food, like with politics, you get the most votes when you stay in the center. Just ask the Outback Steakhouse.)
There’s also pizza and cotton candy and kettlecorn, carny food about which can be said … well, sticking with the maxims I was allegedly brought up with, maybe I won’t say anything at all.
After a couple laps through the exhibit halls, dodging cookware barkers and wind-chime sales representatives and stumbling through the occasional roomful of cows, I realized two things: A) I needed a pair of boots, and B) I wasn’t going be blown away by the pre-fab stadium food coming off the counters.
Time to track down the only sit- down, table-service option in the place, the National Western Bar & Grill, up on the third floor of the Events Center Building.
There, for $28.95, you can order up a center-cut 20-ounce T-bone, a $7.75 plate of “tendergroin” bull fries (a.k.a. Rocky Mountain oysters), and, improbably at such an event, a $13.95 Farmer’s Market Cobb Salad.
There’s a chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes, baked beans, and plenty of salty-gooey gravy for $16.95 – it’ll feed your chicken fried steak cravings. Which, after a portion this generous, should be kept at bay for the foreseeable future.
But your best bet, if you ask me, is the flavorful, tender, perfectly prepared Prime Rib Sandwich, a bargain at $14.95. After a string of bad examples of prime rib lately, this lunch was a welcome relief: A monster-sized slab of soft, buttery meat on a soft, buttery roll, I gobbled it down, thanking the assembled ranchers with every bite.
Back out on the stock show floor after lunch, my beef-filled stomach and I once again came eye-to-eye with Bessie.
Weird, I thought, patting my stomach and heading over to the Corral West booth to try on boots. Being ostrich, at least they weren’t related to Bessie.
Dining critic Tucker Shaw can be reached at 303-954-1958 or dining@denverpost.com.
