Clad in a wide-brimmed Stetson and spurs that jingle-jangle-jingle, the Texas mystique is a powerful thing. It’s romantic and alluring. But it’s not really Dallas. Our city was built on banking, not cattle drives. Our landscape is more gleaming skyscrapers than wide open spaces. Sure, you’ll find a few local souls into ropin’ and ridin’. But you’ll find far more into shoppin’ and brunchin’.
That’s why, on first visit, Stampede 66 is such a yeehaw assault on the senses: cowhide club chairs, Texas ranch scenes on TV screens, a wire-coiled rattler snaking through the dining room, and longhorns hanging over the bar. It may sound like a theme park rather than the hottest restaurant in town. But Stampede 66 pulls it off with good taste and sexy Lone Star State bravado. In other words, check your coat and Dallas preconceptions at the door.