This Texas Roadside Spot’s BBQ Burger Outsells Everything Else On The Grill
Just outside Glen Rose, past a bend in the road and a patch of trees, Loco Coyote Grill waits like an old gathering spot.
The porch creaks, music drifts out, and conversations spill across tables that fill fast. People come for catfish, for ribs, for the noise of a place that never feels empty, but the BBQ burger steals the show.
It’s thick, smoky, stacked high on toasted bread, the kind of meal that slows a room down. I stopped in once out of curiosity and left certain I’d return. What follows are the pieces that make it stick.
1. Jack Daniel’s BBQ Burger Close Up
The sauce hits first. It’s deep, dark, and sticky, pooling along the ridges of the toasted bun and seeping into the brisket below like it’s been waiting all day for this moment.
They don’t drown the burger. They glaze it. The whiskey in the mix doesn’t burn, it sweetens the smoke and folds into the meat like a final brushstroke.
People lean in close for the first bite. Sauce trails down fingers. Nobody minds. That first mouthful earns the mess every time.
2. Brisket And Burger In One Bite
You get beef two ways at once, smoked and grilled. The patty’s thick, charred at the edges, and topped with sliced brisket so tender it slides apart before the teeth get involved.
It’s not just the size that gets people talking. It’s the contrast. Fatty smoke from the brisket meets the salt of the burger in a bite that doesn’t rush to explain itself. It just lands.
Regulars ask for extra napkins before the tray hits the table. First-timers stop talking midway through the first bite. It’s that kind of moment.
3. Onion Rings Piled High
You can see them coming from across the patio, stacked like golden bracelets balanced on a mountain of meat. Crisp edges snap before the soft onion gives way inside.
They batter them to order, light, not greasy, and toss on more than you think can physically stay upright. But somehow they do.
Some folks ask for them on the side, but the move is on top. You’ll get the crunch in every bite and pick at the rest while waiting for the band to start.
4. Patio Tables Under String Lights
The light is soft enough to make you forget the bugs. Bulbs hang low across the yard, warm and lazy, flickering in the Texas dusk.
Wooden tables, mismatched chairs, and gravel underfoot, it’s not polished, but it’s perfect. Kids chase each other past your brisket. Somebody’s dog naps under a bench.
People come here for dinner, but they linger like it’s home. The lights flicker on just before sunset, and nobody checks the time after that.
5. Country Road Sign To The Gate
You’ll see the rusted metal cutout before the building. “Loco Coyote Grill,” it says in a font that looks hand-torched. Just past it, the gravel cracks under your tires.
There’s no big neon arrow, no drive-thru promise. Just trees, a long fence, and that weather-worn gate you might miss if you blink.
The first time I came, I drove right past and had to circle back. Best detour I’ve ever taken. The smell of mesquite hit before the food even did.
6. Live Band On Weekend Stage
They don’t bother with a fancy backdrop. Just a wooden platform, a string of lights, and amps that hum before the first chord.
Fridays and Saturdays, the music leaks into the lot. Classic country, Southern rock, maybe a fiddle if you’re lucky. You hear it before you sit down, and you’ll hum it after you leave.
The crowd doesn’t face the stage, they just eat slower. Between bites, they tap boots under the table, nodding like they know the lyrics by bone memory.
7. Biker Crowd And Pickup Trucks
Harleys line up front tire to front tire. Trucks fill the back lot, lifted and dust-covered, tags from four counties.
It’s not a tourist vibe. People know each other here, or at least act like it. Boots scrape concrete, hats come off indoors, hands wave from across the yard.
Don’t let the chrome and denim fool you. This place runs on generosity. Someone once offered me their extra seat, just so I wouldn’t eat standing up. That burger tasted better because of it.
8. Giant Burgers Next To Catfish
The menu’s got whiplash. One line says “Half-pound burger.” Next line? “Catfish dinner, hush puppies, slaw.” Both show up on the same tray if you ask.
It’s a big-plate philosophy. Onion rings can flank a filet. Brisket meets tartar sauce. The rules bend here, and nobody complains.
I watched a guy order the burger and the catfish and stack them. He ate it like it was normal. Maybe it is, once you’ve been to Loco Coyote enough times.
9. Unique Toppings
Not your average lettuce-tomato routine. Here, a burger might arrive wearing jalapeños, grilled mushrooms, or a full slice of smoked ham like a crown.
The sauce makes repeat appearances, pooling beneath stacks of cheddar or soaking into pulled pork layered right onto the patty.
Customization’s encouraged. Locals whisper their combos like secrets. One regular swears by adding slaw and pickles for crunch. Another goes full Tex-Mex with queso and salsa. No one blinks. The kitchen just nods and gets to work.
10. Sauce Drip Over Toasted Bun
There’s a moment when the tray hits the table. Silence. Everyone clocks the shine of the sauce clinging to the crusty, buttered bun.
The drip’s slow, theatrical. A pause before first bite. Napkins wait nearby, but they’re for surrender, not prevention. This isn’t dainty food. It’s a stain-worthy situation.
I’ve ruined more than one shirt here. Still, I lean forward and go for it. There’s pride in that mess. You didn’t come all this way to nibble politely.