A (Barbecue) Masterpiece In KC

Barbecue is a many splendor thing. From the vinegary tang of the Carolinas to the smokey brisket of Texas, to the dry rubs and hickory smoke of Memphis, to the sweet and spicy meat menagerie that is Kansas City barbecue. And any geographical region that is known for its barbecue is sure to contain a number of establishments that create dishes that epitomize that region’s style of barbecue. In Kansas City, Oklahoma Joe’s, Arthur Bryant’s, Gates, and Fiorella’s Jack Stack are some of the places that serve the classic Kansas City style of barbecue featuring a variety of meats soaked with a thick sauce that is generally built upon tomato and molasses. I’m not going to go into a lot of history on the individual places because I’d just be copping text from Wikipedia at that point. I will say, though, that the claim to fame meatwise in Kansas City is burnt ends, thus that is what I decided to seek out on a recent visit to the city.

Upon arriving in Kansas City, I made my way to Fiorella’s Jack Stack. Jack Stack is a slightly more upscale place than I would have expected for a place that specializes in barbecue. It sort of has the feel of a semi-upscale brewpub/restaurant type of place, with low lighting and high ceilings. It’s not what I would picture for a barbecue place, but rather seemed like a place that would have a few barbecue dishes amongst a more varied menu. That said, the menu is all barbecue, and it has been named by the Zagat Survey as the “#1 Barbecue House In the Country,” so I’ll give it a shot (also, Oklahoma Joe’s is closed on Sundays, which is what day of the week I was making this adventure). I settled in and ordered the burnt end sandwich, which is on their menu as the “Poor Russ.”

The sandwich came out along with some smoked beans and fries, and the waitress asked if I’d like any sweet or spicy sauce to go with it. I said I’d take some spicy sauce, but was a little taken aback at the question. Personally, in a situation like this, I’d prefer the experts to present their idea of the perfect burnt ends sandwich, sauced with a secret family recipe that’s been handed down through the generations. While I was waiting I started in on the baked beans, and hot damn, if this were bakedbeantribunal.com then these baked beans would be the cover image. They were rich and spicy and intensely smokey. We’re certainly off to a good start here. My sauce arrived, and before I spooned any onto my sandwich I thought it would be only proper to try a bite or two pre-sauce (which is actually my standard operating procedure for anything I eat that comes with any sort of sauce or other component on the side). The first bite… well, it didn’t live up to the beans. There wasn’t much smoke, and the meat was chopped and/or pulled so finely that it took away all the textural crunchy, chewy, components that make burnt ends great. I opened the bun to add some of the sauce, and found that there was already sauce on the sandwich, it just hadn’t extended all the way to the edge where I took my first bite. What the heck? What would I need MORE sauce for? And what sort of sauce was this on the sandwich? Probably not the same one that had just been brought to me, right? Unless they guessed really luckily… Anyway, I drizzled a little bit of the “spicy” sauce over the sections where the initial saucing hadn’t reached, and used the rest to dip my fries. It was just okay. The molasses was at the forefront, which was fine, but it really wasn’t spicy at all outside of some black pepper flavor. It was fine, but I left confused as to why they the meat wasn’t nearly as good as the baked beans.

Later in the day, I made my way to Arthur Bryant’s Legends location. Now this place! This place is what I picture when someone says the words “barbecue joint,” what with wobbly tables, padded vinyl chairs, and ordering procedures which involve walking up to the counter and watching them make your food as you order it, the way our forefathers intended. As I watched them make food for people in front of me in line, I became giddy:

The picture isn’t great, as I tried to snap it on the sneak so as to not be “that guy.” You know the one. As far as I could tell, the procedure seemed to be: Take a large piece of brown butcher-type paper, start with a few slices of bread, dump a mountain of meat on the bread, throw a few more slices of bread on top, dump sauce over the whole works (above photo is pre-saucedump), add a handful of fries on the side, a handful of dill pickles on the side, and then wrap it all into one giant wad of barbecue goodness. Oh, it looked glorious. I again ordered the burnt ends sandwich, and it turns out that they serve the burnt ends sandwich in open-face fashion. Now we can debate whether an open-face sandwich is really a sandwich, but maybe we can do that at another time. Because right now we should celebrate this burnt ends sandwich. Since I ordered to stay, they didn’t use the wrap-into-massive-food-wad strategy, and what came out looked like this:

Now, that may not look super intimidating because there’s nothing, no ruler or stack of quarters or tennis balls or anything to give a sense of scale. I will say that while you can see part of a slice of bread, there are three additional slices of bread there which are completely covered by smoked meat. The meat is in chunks, as is more typical of burnt ends. There’s a wonderful smokey char on one edge of almost every chunk, which provide some slightly crunchy bits and provide a perfect contrast to the otherwise tender, slow-cooked meat. There was just enough sauce, it seemed as though the chunks had been tossed gently in the sauce to give it an assertive but not overbearing presence. The sauce had a fantastic spice level as well, just spicy enough to keep a bold flavor aficionado satisfied, but not so spicy as to choke out someone who might prefer milder tastes for some reason. And the meat… well, it tasted meaty. Meaty and smokey and that’s about it, and that’s ultimately all you need to be satisfied by barbecue. There are no frills, no choosing a sauce, or getting sauce on the side. They know how best to season and sauce your food, and they’re going to do it for you so that you don’t fuck it up. Arthur Bryant’s is a barbecue joint. Arthur Bryant’s is the barbecue joint that provides the perfect definition of what Kansas City barbecue is, and what Kansas City barbecue should continue to be.

VanDiagram