Your standard-issue salad accompanies you to the table, courtesy of a pistol-packing waitress clad in a white-fringed, denim cowgirl getup; once seated you’ll find green goddess, 1000 island and ranch dressings in large, dispenser containers. Go for the goddess. While dutifully munching away on the cold but perfunctory greens, gaze at the red-painted walls; the menu is inscribed thereon. Along with images of famous cattle brands and some kuntry cowtoons, the menu reinforces the Bunkhouse Baroque décor—no, wait, it is the décor.

One contributor wasn’t altogether charitable. “The signature fire-engine paint color isn’t the only thing that’s wearing thin at this Southeast San Antonio staple. The steaks seem meaner these days, in cut and flavor, although my less-picky family members still swear by the large strip. And you can’t beat the prices, or the cowgirl uniforms. So if you’ve got a crew in from out of town, by all means slide elbow-to-elbow on the picnic-table benches and dig in. But do eat your veggies beforehand.”

We think a tad more slack can be cut. Grilled liver can’t be found everywhere these days, and beef short ribs for under ten bucks are a bargain under any circumstances. The combo plate of grilled chicken with a four-ounce club steak doesn’t thrill, and the chicken is maybe a little dry, but the seasonings are vivid, and the green beans—yeah, overcooked—have unabashed bacony flavor. Avoid the rolls. But what could possibly go wrong with a root beer float as dessert? Yeehaw!