Texas Roadhouse MenuPrices & Calories 2026

The full texas roadhouse menu spans $2.99 to $33.99. At the bottom sit the sides, all priced identically at $2.99 whether you pick green beans or a loaded baked potato. At the top is the 23oz Porterhouse T-Bone at $33.99, the only item on the board above thirty dollars.

Hand-cut steaks run $12.49 for Road Kill up to $33.99 for the Porterhouse, with the everyday range falling between $13.49 and $27.99. Ribs are $17.99 for a half slab and $22.99 for a full. Chicken entrées cluster tightly between $13.49 and $14.99 — a six-item section with a $1.50 spread, which tells you the kitchen treats them as interchangeable in cost. Country dinners run $10.99 to $16.49, seafood $14.99 to $19.99, burgers and sandwiches $11.49 to $12.99, and salads $4.99 for a side portion up to $16.99 for the Steakhouse Filet Salad.

The number that matters more than any of these is what the entrée includes. Steaks and most mains arrive with two sides, which at the $2.99 list price is $5.98 of food folded into the headline number. A $13.49 sirloin is therefore closer to $7.50 of steak once the sides are accounted for. A handful of plates — Steak Kabob and Beef Tips among them — come with one side rather than two, and that is easy to miss when comparing prices.

Kids meals start at $4.99 and Ranger Meals, the larger step up for bigger appetites still under twelve, run $8.99 to $10.99. Desserts are flat-priced at $6.99 across all three. Fresh-baked bread with cinnamon butter arrives before you order anything and is not charged for.

Calorie counts across the texas roadhouse menu run from 100 for a side of green beans to 2,250 for a single Cactus Blossom. That top figure deserves a moment: the heaviest item on the entire board is a starter, and it is heavier than every steak on the menu including the 20oz Bone-In Ribeye at 1,480.

This is the single most useful thing to understand about eating here. The steaks are not where the calories are. A 6oz sirloin is 250 calories. Herb Crusted Chicken is 260. Grilled BBQ Chicken is 300. These are among the lightest main courses you will find in any restaurant of this kind, because grilled muscle meat with a dry seasoning rub is simply not calorie-dense. What surrounds the protein is where the numbers come from.

Sides are the first multiplier. Green beans are 100 calories and a loaded sweet potato is 740 — the same $2.99, the same slot on the plate, 640 calories apart. Since most entrées come with two sides, that single pair of choices can swing a meal by well over a thousand calories without changing the main course at all.

Sauces and gravies are the second. Country Fried Chicken is 780 calories and the cream gravy accounts for a substantial share of it. Chicken Critters swing between 80 and 320 additional calories on dipping sauce alone — a range wider than most people would guess a dip could produce. Asking for either on the side is not a token gesture; it hands you control of a real fraction of the plate.

The third is the starters, and it is the one that catches people out. Order a Cactus Blossom for the table and a 6oz sirloin for yourself, and the appetiser you barely registered contributes nine times the calories of the steak you came for. Grilled Shrimp at 360 is the only starter that does not materially change the shape of the meal.

One caveat worth stating plainly: these figures are for the standard build as printed. Adding a Smother Your Steak topping is $2.29 and 180 to 300 calories, loading a potato is $1.29 and 150, and any custom order moves the numbers. If you are tracking closely for a medical reason, the official nutrition calculator is the place to check a specific build.

Ribs occupy their own section of the texas roadhouse menu and come in exactly two configurations: a half slab at $17.99 and 900 calories, or a full slab at $22.99 and 1,450. Both arrive with two sides.

The five-dollar gap between them is the interesting part. A full slab is roughly double the meat for 28% more money, which makes it the better value per rib by a comfortable margin — provided you finish it. At 1,450 calories before either side arrives, plenty of people do not, and a half-eaten full slab is worse value than a finished half slab.

The honest recommendation is that the half slab is the correct order for one person eating a normal amount, and the full slab is the correct order for two people sharing alongside a starter. Ordering a full slab for one because it looks like better value is how most people end up taking half of it home.

Ribs also appear in three other places on the board, which is easy to miss. Killer Ribs at $11.99 is a starter-sized basket with steak fries and works better as a light main than as a shared appetiser. Six of the twelve Texas Size Combos pair ribs with something else. And the Ranger Rib Basket at $10.99 is the kids-menu step-up version.

The six chicken specialties on the texas roadhouse menu are priced within $1.50 of each other, from $13.49 to $14.99, and they contain the two lightest entrées available anywhere on the board. Herb Crusted Chicken at 260 calories is the single lowest-calorie main course, and Grilled BBQ Chicken at 300 is second.

What makes those figures notable is that neither is a salad. The usual advice for eating lightly in a steakhouse is to order a salad, and on this menu that advice is actively wrong — the Chicken Caesar Salad is 1,100 calories, more than four times the Herb Crusted Chicken. If someone at your table is counting, the chicken page is the answer and the salad page is the trap.

The fried options in the same section tell the other half of the story. Country Fried Chicken is 780 and Chicken Critters 480, both against a grilled equivalent in the 260 to 300 range. The batter and the gravy are doing all of that work.

Country dinners sit alongside and run heavier. Country Fried Sirloin at 1,180 calories is the heaviest non-steak entrée on the board — the batter and cream gravy together contribute more than the beef does. The Country Veg Plate at $10.99 is the cheapest full plate available and the only genuinely vegetarian-friendly entrée, though its 400 to 1,580 calorie range is the widest on the menu and depends entirely on which four sides you pick.

This is the part of the texas roadhouse menu most likely to mislead, so it is worth being direct. The Chicken Caesar Salad is 1,100 calories. The Steakhouse Filet Salad is 1,340 — heavier than a 12oz Prime Rib and heavier than every burger except the Smokehouse. The Grilled Chicken Salad is 810 before dressing, and dressing adds between 270 and 480 more.

The reason is the toppings rather than the greens. Jack cheese, hard-boiled egg, bacon, croutons and a creamy dressing on a bed of leaves is a calorie-dense combination, and the leaves contribute almost nothing to offset it. A Caesar is the worst offender because the dressing is the dish rather than a garnish.

There is a genuine oddity in the numbers worth pointing out: the Chicken Critter Salad, topped with fried tenders, is 690 calories — lighter than the Grilled Chicken Salad at 810. The portion of greens and toppings is smaller relative to the protein, and it more than offsets the frying. It is a good reminder that "grilled" on a menu is a cooking method, not a calorie claim.

The two side salads are where the value sits. A House Salad is $4.99 and 230 calories before dressing, which makes it the sensible way to add vegetables to a steak plate. The Caesar is the same $4.99 but 440 calories — nearly double, almost entirely from the dressing. Same price, same section, and the difference is a choice most people make without looking.

The kids section of the texas roadhouse menu splits into two tiers that are easy to confuse. Kids Meals run $4.99 to $7.99 and include a drink and one side. Ranger Meals run $8.99 to $10.99 and are the larger step up for bigger appetites still under twelve.

At the entry point, the All-Beef Hot Dog and Macaroni and Cheese are both $4.99, tying for the cheapest meal on the entire board. Macaroni and Cheese at 300 calories before the side and drink is the lightest thing on the kids page.

The standout is Grilled Chicken at $6.99 and 110 calories — the lightest protein anywhere on the menu, adult sections included. For a child who will eat something other than fried food, it is a genuinely good option rather than a token one. Lil' Dillo Steak Bites at $7.99 and 170 calories is the most expensive kids meal and among the lightest.

Mini-Cheeseburgers at 670 calories are the heaviest kids option and closer to an adult portion than the $6.49 price suggests. Andy's Steak in the Ranger tier is 250 calories — the same count as the adult 6oz sirloin, which makes the portioning clearer than the price does.

One restriction that catches families out: Ranger Meals are excluded from kids meal coins, certificates and most other offers. If you are planning around a promotion, check it covers the tier you are ordering from.

The prices throughout this guide come from one printed in-restaurant menu. Your local restaurant will differ, sometimes by a little and occasionally by a lot, and the reasons are worth understanding rather than treating as an error in the texas roadhouse menu you are reading.

Location is the largest factor. Restaurants in city centres, airports and high-rent areas run above suburban ones, because the rent, wages and local taxes behind the plate are different. A difference of a dollar or two on a steak between two restaurants forty miles apart is normal.

Timing is the second. Printed menus are reissued periodically rather than continuously, so a photographed menu captures a moment. Beef prices in particular move with commodity markets, and steak pricing tends to follow within a couple of print cycles. Independent sources currently report Early Dine pricing anywhere between $8.99 and $13.99 depending on who you ask and when they checked — a spread that reflects genuine variation rather than anyone being careless.

Third-party delivery is the largest single markup. Menu prices inside a delivery app commonly run well above dine-in before service fees, delivery fees and tip are added. If you are comparing a figure on this site against one in an app, you are comparing two different things.

The practical advice: use this guide to decide what to order and roughly what it will cost, and treat the exact figure as an estimate until you see the board. Calorie counts are far more stable than prices — they do not move with rent or commodity markets — so the nutrition data here will stay accurate considerably longer than the pricing will.

They arrive before you have ordered anything, they keep arriving, and they cost nothing. For a great many people the rolls are the single most memorable thing about the whole experience, and any honest guide to the Texas Roadhouse menu has to start there rather than treat them as a footnote to the steaks.

They are yeast rolls, baked through the day rather than in one morning batch, and they come out warm enough that the butter melts on contact. That timing is the entire trick. A roll that has been sitting under a heat lamp is an ordinary dinner roll; one that came out of the oven ten minutes ago is the reason people talk about them. If the basket arrives lukewarm, asking for a fresh one is completely normal and the answer is almost always yes.

The butter is the other half. Whipped butter with honey and cinnamon, softened to the point where it spreads without tearing the roll. It is sweet — genuinely sweet, closer to a dessert spread than a savoury one — and it is the thing that divides opinion. People who expect a plain dinner roll are surprised; people who know what is coming order a second butter without embarrassment.

The practical warning is real and worth stating. The basket is free and it is bottomless, and a person who works through four rolls before the steak arrives has eaten a substantial amount of bread and butter before the meal has started. This is the most common way to leave a steakhouse uncomfortably full while feeling you ordered modestly. If you are watching the total for the evening, the rolls are the first place to look, well before you start weighing a 6oz sirloin against an 8oz.

The counter-argument is equally real: it is free food, it is good, and refusing it entirely to save calories on a night out is the kind of discipline that makes a meal worse without making anybody healthier. A sensible middle is one roll before the food arrives and one alongside it, which is enough to enjoy them without turning them into the meal.

Ask for the basket to arrive with the food rather than immediately if you want the decision taken out of your hands. Staff do this without comment and it is the single most effective thing you can do about it.

The starters section is where the biggest calorie numbers on the whole board live, and almost nobody expects that. The Cactus Blossom reaches 2,250 calories — more than any steak on the menu, more than the Bone-In Ribeye, and that is before either of the two sides that come with a main. It is a whole onion, cut into petals, battered and fried, served with a dipping sauce. It is designed to be shared by a table of four and it is very good. It is also, by a wide margin, the most calorie-dense decision available in the building.

That is not an argument against ordering it. It is an argument for knowing what it is before you order it as a casual extra for two people. Split four ways alongside a meal it is a reasonable indulgence; ordered for two as a warm-up to a ribeye it is the item that decides the evening.

Rattlesnake Bites are the other name people arrive knowing. Diced jalapeño and jack cheese, breaded and fried, served with a cajun horseradish dip. There is no snake in them and there never was — the name is roadhouse theatre. They are hotter than most fried cheese and the heat builds rather than hitting immediately, which catches people out on the third or fourth one.

Beyond those two the section runs to fried pickles, potato skins, chili and wings, all built on the same principle: fried, shareable, and priced to be added to a table order without much thought. The Texas Roadhouse menu is unusual among steakhouses in how heavily it leans on this section, and the reason is that starters arrive fast while steaks do not.

The genuinely useful advice here is structural rather than about any one item. Between the free rolls, the free peanuts and a shared starter, a table can consume a full meal's worth of food before the mains arrive. Order one starter for the table rather than one each, or skip the section entirely and let the bread basket do that job for nothing.

The dockside section exists for the person at the table who does not want steak, and that is genuinely its job rather than a slight against it. Grilled salmon and fried catfish are the mainstays, and the salmon in particular is a sensible order for anyone watching what the evening adds up to — it is a straightforward piece of fish cooked simply, and it comes with the same two sides everything else does.

Order seafood at a steakhouse with clear expectations. The grill, the seasoning and the entire kitchen culture are built around beef, and the fish is competent rather than a destination. If somebody in your party genuinely prefers fish, they will eat well. If they are ordering it because they think it is the light option, the salmon is a better choice than the fried catfish by a wide margin, and the difference is the batter rather than the fish.

The Legendary Margarita is the drink the chain is known for and it is a substantial one. Margaritas at a steakhouse are dessert-adjacent in sugar terms, and two of them alongside a meal will add more to both the bill and the calorie total than an extra starter would. That is not a reason to avoid them; it is a reason not to be surprised by the bill at the end of a round of them.

Draught beer, soft drinks with refills and iced tea cover the rest of the table. Refills are the thing worth knowing about for a family: soft drinks are refilled at no extra charge, which changes the arithmetic of ordering them for four people considerably compared with a restaurant that charges per glass.

If you are ordering for a table and want to keep the total predictable, drinks are the lever that moves it most. Four entrées vary by perhaps twenty dollars depending on what people pick. Four rounds of margaritas move the bill further than that, and they do it without anybody noticing until the check arrives.

The chain started in 1993 in Clarksville, Indiana, founded by Kent Taylor, and grew from a single restaurant into a national operation without much changing about the format. Two operational claims from that period still shape what arrives at your table, and both are worth separating from the marketing language around them.

Hand-cut means the steaks are portioned in the restaurant rather than arriving pre-cut and vacuum-packed. There is a butcher case near the front of most locations, which is partly theatre and partly the actual working area. The practical consequence is variation: two 12oz ribeyes cut by hand are not identical, thickness varies, and thickness is what determines how forgiving the steak is to cook. It also means you can ask to see the cuts and pick one, which very few people do and which is entirely permitted.

Made from scratch, applied to the sides, means prepared in the restaurant that day rather than reheated from frozen. This is the claim that actually shows on the plate. Mashed potatoes and green beans made that morning are noticeably different from the reheated versions most chain restaurants serve, and the sides here are better than they need to be as a result. Given that every entrée comes with two of them, that is a larger share of the meal than it sounds.

What neither phrase means is that anything is being aged, dry-aged or hand-finished in the way an expensive independent steakhouse would. This is a high-volume operation cooking a lot of steak quickly and doing it consistently. That consistency is the actual achievement, and it is why the experience in one state matches the experience in another — which for most people is worth more than an occasional brilliant steak somewhere unpredictable.

None of these involves eating less than you want to. Each is a decision made without noticing it was a decision.

Filling up on free bread before the food arrives. Four rolls with cinnamon butter is a meaningful amount of food, and it is the most common reason people leave uncomfortably full having ordered modestly. Ask for the basket to come with the meal.

Ordering a starter as well. Between unlimited rolls and free peanuts, the table already has food. A shared Cactus Blossom on top of that is 2,250 calories arriving before anybody has touched a steak.

Two people ordering two small steaks. Price per ounce falls as the cut gets larger. Two people splitting one big steak and ordering an extra side eat more, for less, than two people ordering the smallest cut each.

Saying "medium" when you mean medium rare. The most common cause of a disappointing steak anywhere, and a one-word fix.

Not checking whether you can eat early. The reduced-price weekday menu is the single largest saving available, it needs no coupon, and it is invisible to anybody who only ever arrives at seven.

Loading and smothering without adding it up. A dollar or two at a time, three times, across four people, is a meaningful amount added to a bill nobody remembers agreeing to.