Totally underwhelming...unless you're there for happy hour.
I never understood how Diamondback's passes for fine dining. Sure, the food is decent, the bar is top notch and they sometimes have a nice jazz quartet in the corner, but I always just feel like I'm eating in an annex to Cricket's. Maybe it's the sort of rustic decor. If you want a quiet place to have a special meal, you're going to loathe the high ceilings and loft-like feel to this place. I always find myself talking a bit louder than I'd like to be in a place like this because it's such an open space.
The food on the main menu is pricey--a bit too much so outside of happy hour. My steak was good, but not exactly memorable. I think I enjoyed the side caesar I got with it more since I think I could taste a little hint of anchovy in there.
Happy hour is where Diamondback's shines. All the appetizers are $3, if my memory serves me right--and they're all very yummy. At $3 a plate, it's hard to go wrong.
The bar, as stated earlier, is top notch. I judge bars by how they make my martini. I want decent gin. Very dry. Shaken, not stirred (tee hee), and keep your dang olives and olive juice out of it. So, it's basically gin with a couple drops of vermouth in there. Not only do they have a decent selection of gin (among other things), but the bartender complied with my list of unreasonable requests just fine. (No, I don't actually ask for it shaken, but I will get all "son, I am disappoint" if I don't see a shaker come out shortly after my order goes in. There's just some things you DON'T do, man. Stirring martinis--which end up less cold as a result--are one of 'em.)
Anyway, I got deliciousness, therefore, I was happy.
My only complaint on the bar side would be with those stupid metal martini glasses. They're cute, they're rustic, we get it, you're trying to be "Texan," but stop it. You've got to draw a line somewhere, and this is where I'd do it. Why? Because I can't see the water line in my drink very well. Even though I'm just spilling clear liquid on myself, Betty Bowhead with her frou-frou Pineapple Mango Cranberry Appletini is going to inevitably drizzle radioactive hued booze all over something she doesn't want to, and then we've got a sticky mess on our hands. I keep intending to order my drinks in a nice, clear lowball glass (hopefully these aren't metal, too?), but I always forget. Curse you, bizarre steel glasses. CURSE YOU.