How did I end up at Hillstone eating a burger? Well, I had finally decided that today was the day I would hit up Morton’s in Coral Gables. So I’m walking over there (I work a block away back then), and I glance over into
Houston’s Hillstone (about a year after my visit, this location was rebranded to Hillstone). I can see that the bar stools are almost all empty. Was this a sign? I took it as one, and now there was a change of plans.
I walk in, and I could not believe I was finally inside Hillstone (201 Miracle Mile). When I drive by, I always see the lines and think, there is no way I would wait in those lines to eat. But here I am, so I take a seat at the bar & order a refreshing Coke.
While checking out the menu, I come across a banner under the burger heading in the menu.
“Our burgers are house-ground each morning for today’s service only.”
That’s always great news, so I order the Hillstone burger with cheese. The bartender comes back with three little metal cups of mayo, mustard, and ketchup that are placed ever so lovingly next to my drink.
The burger looks pretty. The fresh-baked bun topped with a perfectly cooked burger exceeded my expectations. I know quite a few folks who swear by everything on the menu, in particular the burger.
The fries were nice and crispy, and without a doubt, freshly cut. In some ways, they remind of the little fries served on steaks at Lila’s (R.I.P.) or Rio Cristal. If you’re not from Miami, particularly the Westchester area, then you won’t have a clue what I’m talking about. I ate my fries with mayo after consultation with Vincent Vega, not too bad.
Overall a great experience and I must mention the service at Hillstone is top-notch. While I was drinking my Coke, I could see the bartender from the other end of the bar eyeing my Coke so he could refill once it got low (which he did 3 times). I felt as if I was in that I Love Lucy episode, where they kept refilling her water. Not that I’m complaining.
I returned to Hillstone a few days later and met the love of my life. Her name? The Hickory Burger.
P.S.: Don’t tell my wife.