The Driskill Hotel has been part of my life for as long as I can remember – even though I didn’t make it to high tea until adulthood. I’ve been to anniversary dinners and holiday parties and saddled up to the bar during many a festival. It has always felt less like a place I visited than one of those pieces of Austin that was simply always there.
So perhaps 140 is a fitting age for a refresh. The renovation has modernized the hotel’s public spaces without scrubbing away its history. I can’t speak to the guest rooms, but the lobby still feels unmistakably Driskill, all Old Austin grandeur. Downstairs, a new bar has joined the lineup, while the main mezzanine bar has moved inside the Driskill Grill.
The restaurant, which opened in 1930, has taken a more evolutionary approach to the refresh. The Grill has gained additional booths, plenty of new taxidermy and Southwestern artwork, and a more open, connected feel. But step toward the street side, and the old Driskill Grill is still right there: the same leather booths, ornate glass dividers, green carpet, and dark wood. It feels refreshed without looking like someone wandered in with a sledgehammer. White tablecloths get one final touch before dinner, too, as staff irons them tableside. It’s the kind of fancy little fussiness my mother-in-law would love.
The biggest change? The dining room is actually full.
On past visits, the Grill could feel almost comically empty – a giant room occupied by a few older couples and the occasional businessman on a per diem. This time, it was bustling. There were date-night couples, expense-account diners, and gaggles of Instagram devotees. On a Friday, I sat next to a group of moms celebrating a birthday, flirting shamelessly with their waiter, and gossiping about doing cocaine in the bathroom. The old Driskill, she ain’t.
The shift is courtesy of MML Hospitality, which took over the hotel’s food and beverage operations and brought in James Beard Award winner April Bloomfield as creative director and chef Nick Erven as executive chef. The Grill still leans into the classic American chophouse with dry-aged meats but adds nods to Bloomfield’s British roots.
My husband’s family is British-Canadian, which means I have spent enough time around Yorkshire puddings and Sunday roasts to have accidentally acquired opinions. As a Southern woman, I find the idea that something called “pudding” can be a savory baked thing deeply dumb. But here we are. I now have a Yorkshire pudding standard.
The Driskill Grill’s is better than my mother-in-law’s. (Shhhhhhh.)
The enormous, herb-flecked Yorkshire pudding accompanying the $85 prime rib is light and airy. The prime rib itself arrives on a rolling cart and gets carved tableside for a festive show of steakhouse theatre. The meat is rich and satisfying, served with confit garlic, red wine jus, and horseradish cream. It was cooked beautifully – although I wanted that sauce to burn my nostrils a bit more.
The $48 dry-aged duck breast was the most memorable dish of the night. Served rare, it had a deeply rosy center and a crackly five-spice crust that gave way to tender, flavorful meat. A honey jus balanced the richness. Dry-aging brought out more of the duck’s wild side, but it never tipped into super gamey territory.
I skipped the $95 Littlefield Petit Plateau, but it’s worth mentioning for diners considering the raw bar. The tower includes a half lobster, shrimp cocktail, and 12 oysters, making it a better value for a table already eyeing shellfish. The $36 chilled half lobster arrived cleanly segmented, making it easy to share. The meat was sweet and fresh, though the tarragon sauce was a touch too assertive.
For the Driskill Caesar, a Mount Fuji pile of parmesan dusts over crisp romaine, with fine toasted breadcrumbs and a savory dressing. The anchovy comes through without becoming fishy. Just stir it first – we attacked the cheese summit bite by bite, leaving the bottom too wet and tangy.
The sides are where the British influence really won me over. Braised peas and onions sound like the sort of thing that should be politely ignored in favor of potatoes, but these were excellent. The dish combines soft, smashed peas with whole ones, mint, and green chiles, creating something closer to a fresh chutney, bright with acid and plenty of personality.
The cocktail program is almost absurdly deep, with 26 drinks listed from A to Z. The classic Driskill Martini is the move for leaning into the steakhouse fantasy: icy cold, balanced, and served with its own little carafe. The Jimmy Roosevelt, made with cognac, Champagne, and green Chartreuse, offered a lighter alternative – though my husband joked it reminded him of when a bartender fakes ginger ale by mixing Coke and Sprite, and I couldn’t un-taste it.
Dessert was an easy decision. The chocolate cake is a 10-layer construction with multiple slabs of chocolate, caramel, ganache, and cocoa nibs that feels elaborate without being overly cloying. The crunchy center breaks up all that chocolate richness.
Service still needs some work. Our server was slow to appear and disappeared for long stretches while the restaurant’s runners and support staff repeatedly picked up the slack. Liam, in particular, was terrific, cheerfully handling drink orders, clearing plates, and checking in on us. He later brought hot towels after the lobster because he thought our “hands might be cold.” I’m sure it’s just their standard post-raw-crustacean protocol – and the towels were hot enough to cook another lobster – but the sentiment was sweet.
Dinner is not cheap, so I had to make some hard choices on a single-visit review. I’d happily return for the baked Alaska and other cuts from the dry-aging program.
Although it has solved the problem that plagued its previous incarnation, the new Driskill Grill still has some kinks to iron out. It’s not suddenly Austin’s most exciting special-occasion restaurant, but it is a considerably more inviting one. The room has energy again, the food is worth lingering over, and the martinis make a second round tempting.
This article appears in September 4 • 2026.
