{"id":199620,"date":"2026-03-11T09:33:28","date_gmt":"2026-03-11T09:33:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-tx\/199620\/"},"modified":"2026-03-11T09:33:28","modified_gmt":"2026-03-11T09:33:28","slug":"a-wild-night-at-tilman-fertittas-houston-rodeo-restaurant","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-tx\/199620\/","title":{"rendered":"A Wild Night at Tilman Fertitta\u2019s Houston Rodeo Restaurant"},"content":{"rendered":"

As a somewhat self-hating cowgirl, I felt like a poseur when I threw on my denim skirt, turquoise earrings, and the toe-pinching, dun-hued Tecovas that had been gathering dust in a corner of my bedroom. But my husband and I were bound for Tilman Fertitta\u2019s spanking new 1932 Cattleman\u2019s Club, at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo, and according to the press release, \u201cguests are encouraged to dress in stylish ranch-inspired attire that reflects the spirit of Texas.\u201d Once I added a white button-down and my Trotsky-esque, tortoiseshell eyeglasses, I looked like a why-even-try reject from a Landman casting call. But this was the best I could do to show my respect for Fertitta, the Cattleman\u2019s Club, and my home state.<\/p>\n

I was no match for the sequined, ruffled, and cowboy-hatted crowd I surveyed once I got inside the tented, fine-dining venue dreamed up by our current ambassador to Italy, a.k.a the Houston-based billionaire CEO of an ever-expanding international restaurant and entertainment empire. (See: Houston Rockets, Golden Nugget Casinos & Hotels, Landry\u2019s restaurants, and so on and so on.) A self-made mogul, Fertitta has made a fortune catering to the torridly ambitious and the deeply aspirational, which includes not just the rich who stay at his luxury hotels but the people who drink at the bars of his luxury hotels to feel, at least for a moment, like they are rich too.<\/p>\n

\t\t \"\"\/ Rodeo fashion on full display. Photograph by Bethany Ellen Ochs \"\"\/ Behind the bar. Photograph by Bethany Ellen Ochs <\/p>\n

The 1932 Cattleman\u2019s Club (the date is a nod to the first Houston Rodeo) replaced competitor Ben Berg\u2019s Ranch Saloon and Steakhouse, which was the rodeo\u2019s first standalone restaurant when it launched in 2022. Fertitta\u2019s one-upmanship has led to one of the most elaborate popups seen in these parts since the opening party for Shamrock Hotel hosted by wildcatter Glenn McCarthy in the forties. Between the hulking NRG Stadium and the mothballed Astrodome, the venue is housed in a tent the size of which could rival that for a Saudi wedding. Inside was a restaurant\/bar\/dance hall combo with staghorn-encrusted chandeliers, wood siding, neon signs, and sprawling, near life-size murals depicting the glory days of cowpunching. The tables in the dining area were set with white cloths and gleaming silver and glassware, and\u2014not to miss a cohort\u2014sports fans could watch any or all of the three wide-screen TVs at the bar(s), with a choice of sporting programs and\/or the rodeo itself next door. It happened to be election night, but no returns were televised. \u201cYou don\u2019t want to prompt fights,\u201d my husband pointed out, though I thought a good bar brawl might have added a touch of Texas authenticity.<\/p>\n

\"\"\"\"A dinner spread.Photograph by Bethany Ellen Ochs<\/p>\n

The vibe was Texas expansive, I would say, radiating the kind of good cheer we are known for, at least until crossed. A battalion of servers seemed to be everywhere all at once, managing to be nimble, cracklingly efficient, and friendly, even familiar, reminding me of some distant relative I couldn\u2019t place but really, really liked. Diners were all gussied up for a good time\u2014the women with cleavage and heavy makeup, the men with the beefy, self-satisfied look of former high school football stars turned corporate execs. The decibel level was very high, with loud laughter emanating from tables where people didn\u2019t even seem to be drinking all that much. (Maybe because they didn\u2019t want to shell out for an $800 bottle of 2008 Dom P\u00e9rignon, though that was a bargain compared to the $2,500 bottle of 2003 Ch\u00e2teau Mouton Rothschild, a notably bad vintage.) One man led his partner in an impromptu two-step near their booth, and the room erupted in a collective swoon when a server, dressed hat to boots in bad-guy black, rang a chuckwagon triangle and presented his diners with the Trail Boss Tomahawk, a forty-ouncer dangling from a spit until hacked off the bone table-side with a machete-adjacent knife. (The price was a menacing \u201cMKT.\u201d)<\/p>\n

The food was certainly good and the servings plentiful. The menu hit every upscale steakhouse station of the cross, with the usual strips and filets supplemented with (more exotic and expensive) Japanese beef from oh, you know, Miyazaki and Kagoshima. Seafood options included Gulf snapper, jumbo cold-water rock-lobster tail, and Alaskan king crab legs. The food prices, like the alcohol, seemed designed for people who were intent on being or feeling like big shots, at least until reality hit the next morning. My husband and I eschewed the $149 six-ounce filet to share a sixteen-ounce, medium-rare ribeye, perfectly seared on the outside and rosy on the inside, priced at $85; once we added a Caesar salad, one glass of wine each, and three side dishes, the total came to $325 with tip. Yes, we could have had the 1932 burger for $25\u2014\u201cRC Ranch Wagyu smash patties\u201d\u2014but where was the fun in that?<\/p>\n

In fact, something told me that very few people were actually paying for their meals. I\u2019m not saying that corporate bigwigs aren\u2019t interested in fancy steak dinners, but to the right of our table were three young women employed by a vascular surgeon who was treating them to dinner (he never made it), and to our left were two glammed-up ladies who worked for a real estate firm. Judging from their joyous and myriad selfies, this night out might also have been a reward for their hard work (#expenseaccount).<\/p>\n

\"\"\/ The Cattleman\u2019s Club on March 4. Photograph by Bethany Ellen Ochs \"\"\/ Western-fringed Louis Vuitton purses in the gift shop. Photograph by Bethany Ellen Ochs <\/p>\n

Not to miss a trick, though, the Cattleman\u2019s Club creators clearly understand our world of haves, have-nots, and have-mores. The rodeo has always had an egalitarian gloss but statusy underpinnings; socially ambitious show-offs have to spend close to $1 million for the Grand Champion steer, for instance, while a table at the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston ball goes for a measly five figures. So sure, there\u2019s a degree of specialness conveyed by dining at the Cattleman\u2019s Club, but it\u2019s better to be invited into the private dining room for more important VIPs, this one sponsored by Cotton Holdings\u2014the company\u2019s logo was prominently displayed\u2014or for a drink at the small bar reserved, according to our server, solely for rodeo execs. It was virtually empty; I guess, like they say, it\u2019s lonely at the top.<\/p>\n

And if you happened to feel a little, well, less than\u2014maybe not dressed in enough rodeo chic\u2014the 1932 Cattleman\u2019s Club has you covered. Literally. Tucked into a tiny corner, conveniently located near the exit, was a gift shop with plenty of branded merchandise, much of it cleverly irresistible\u2014except, that is, for the price. Yes, there is rodeo-appropriate costume jewelry and boleros for under $40, and maybe on bonus day I would shell out for a Lucchese T-shirt collab at $65, and yet the table crammed with Western-forward, fringed Vuitton purses ($2,000 to $4,000, depending on the size) seemed, well, a lot for an impulse buy. But then, I\u2019m not a billionaire. \u201cThey have a lifetime warranty,\u201d the saleswoman added helpfully.<\/p>\n

\"\"\"\"Nighttime crowds at the Cattleman\u2019s Club.Photograph by Bethany Ellen Ochs<\/p>\n

The have-lesses can contend themselves with what look like tiny Lucite-style boxes (for $300) containing embroidered versions of cowboy hats, boots, and horseshoes captioned \u201cVuitton,\u201d \u201cGucci\u201d and \u201cHerm\u00e8s,\u201d though I couldn\u2019t really see a resemblance to the designers\u2019 actual products. Still, the name would be there for all to see, a perfect encapsulation of the Fertitta fake-it-\u2019til-you-make-it gestalt. In the meantime, I\u2019m okay settling for corn dogs, funnel cakes, and a midway teddy bear for the rest of my rodeo days.<\/p>\n

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