Mini Loaf Brioche Buns

Most people don’t realize that Hillstone is a massive national restaurant chain. You might know it by one of its plethora of pseudonyms, like Houston’s. I grew up going to my hometown’s Hillstone (which used to be Houston’s but is now Woodmont Grill) for lunch all the time. Before I turned 10, I had probably been 50 times—because my mom and my aunt worked right across the street. We were about 10 paces from crispy chicken sandwiches and spinach artichoke dip. So every time I would visit my mom at her office, Hillstone was for lunch a coin toss of the time.

It was actually a big family affair. More often than not, my grandpa, my grandma, my other aunt, and a cousin or two would join. We had essentially a standing reservation at one of the 4 large tables (now reduced to just 2, sadly). Why did we have a standing reservation? Because my grandpa would tip 50%(!) on the bill. It was crazy and still is. At 9 years old, I remember looking at the bill in utter confusion, trying to comport a 50% tip with the standard I was taught of 20%.

So now you might see why all the hosts and waiters would accommodate my family. Sure. But my grandpa wasn’t really doing it to be kind. He was doing it to be accommodated. My grandparents didn’t travel much at that point, lived pretty modestly (my grandpa ate McDonald’s frequently for lunch), didn’t buy expensive clothes. Going to Hillstone was the splurge of the week or month. The absurd tipping gave us, hmm, I would call it a certain leverage over our dining experience. Oh my god we were the biggest pains when we were ordering. My mom and aunt treated ordering Hillstone salads like a Sweetgreen: “I’ll have the Grilled Chicken Salad, but no egg, no onion, bacon on the side, extra tomatoes, dressing on the side.” My brother would order ribs (he was like five years old eating a half rack of ribs). My grandpa, the French dip with a Diet Coke. Me, the trout and a five nut brownie. And when the food was ready, the five servers would bring the food in a dramatic procession: lined up down the aisle, plates held high, setting the massive amount of food at our table until there was none of its cherry wood surface left visible.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that this restaurant has a special place in my heart. I remember celebrating my 8th birthday there (I told my grandpa I was only two years away from turning 10, and then he laughed). But when my grandparents passed during my teens, we generally stopped going. The table always felt incomplete, no matter how many people we were.

Then when I moved to New York, Woodmont Grill became Hillstone. And I recently went for the first time just a few months ago. Some of the menu was different. But what was most distinct was the ~obsession~ with Ding’s crispy chicken sandwich. My 3 friends all ordered it. I was perplexed. And they were perplexed at my perplexion(?). Apparently it’s all the rage in New York. I didn’t give in and ordered something else. But I thought it would be a fun challenge to recreate the sandwich at home, featuring homemade brioche rolls (large ones), the iconic honey mustard kale slaw, and some beautifully gourmet Trader Joe’s Swiss cheese slices.

For the other parts of the menu, I recreated another iconic Hillstone menu item: the Thai noodle salad. Except I didn’t make the steak because I’m not making two proteins and excluded coconut because my friend Matt is allergic (alas). I riffed on this Bon Appetite recipe. (Fyi: the mango is always the best part). And I had a couple stunning pints of cherries in my fridge, so I thought a classic French fruit tart with hints of amaretto would be a perfect meal.

Cheers to the longevity of the Hillstone Restaurant Group,

Ryan