The Food Maven Diary
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Kansas City and St. Louis Barbecue
Ask 100 people in Kansas City (Kansas Citians?) "Where should I go for barbecue? - smoked ribs and brisket, pulled pork, lip-smacking sauce -- and you'll get 100 answers. So they say. I only asked four and I got overlapping answers, except to my suggestion that I consider eating at LC's. Everyone steered me away from LC's, which I had learned about in "Road Food," Michael and Jane Stern's guide to eating in truck stops and better-than-that joints across the country. LC's is recommended on the Stern's website, too -- www.RoadFood.com. The burnt ends sandwich pictured on the site still makes me think I should try it sometime.
I know Jane and Michael Stern from way back when. And although I understand and very much appreciate their mission of finding food particular to its place - in the United States of America, not France, Italy or Spain -- I don't usually agree with their taste. When I am on the road in America I often follow their advice, but, as a result, I have eaten in more than my share of kitschy places with notably mediocre to truly bad food. Then again, I am always interested to see what the Sterns have found and what they have to say about it. I know, too, sadly, that more often than not the kitschy restaurant with notably mediocre to truly bad food may actually be the best a locale has to offer. (But please Sterns, who also write for Gourmet magazine, no less, no more frozen French fries, no matter how expertly fried they are.) Still, when the fries are frozen and cold, and the McDonald's-level, but not McDonald's hamburger comes as slowly as the food at Bouley, you figure, well, at least they have a juke box with Patsy Cline.
Anyway, I was in Kansas City because I was visiting my niece, Rachel, and her husband Max Protzel, in St. Louis. Max, with his sister Erica, are the third-generation operators of Protzel's Deli in Clayton. If you're visiting students at Washington University, it's very nearby and the corned beef, chopped liver, kishka, among other things, are not to be missed. Rachel bakes cookies and macaroons for the deli, but in real life she is a social worker at St. Mary's hospital.
Of course I know that Kansas City is clear across the state of Missouri from Saint Louis, but we decided to make it a destination for a three-day weekend, a barbecue mission to KC, plus, because you have to do something between meals, a visit to the city's Jazz Museum where we got to listen to recordings of the greats, and the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art, which has just enough of everything to not be overwhelming but very satisfying.
After reading what I could about Kansas City's famous barbecue, and asking those few Kansas City natives I met along the way, I decided we had to go to Gates, the locals' favorite, and Arthur Bryant's because it must be the most famous barbecue in Kansas City and I have been hearing about it for more than 30 years. Arthur Bryant achieved legendary status through the writings of Calvin Trillin, a long-time New Yorker (and New Yorker magazine writer) and Kansas City native son. My first and up-to-now only taste of Arthur Bryant's ribs was in the mid 1970s, when my old Newsday colleague, Missouri native Sylvia Carter once mail-ordered a few racks from Bryant's for an office party. Back then I thought that ribs couldn't be better.
Now, I thought Bryant's, at the original Brooklyn Ave. location, was disappointing. Although I loved the experience, mainly the local people-watching and eating-watching while I was on the long line waiting to order our food, a line that snaked out the door onto the street, the ribs were merely good, not outrageously good. They were tender and juicy, but didn't have much smoke flavor or any powerful flavor without the addition of sauce. And, I'm sorry, I am not a fan of Bryant's famous sauce, not the "original" or the hotter one, or the sweeter one. And since Bryant's pulled pork comes already drenched in sauce, I wasn't that wild about the pork, either. Bryant's brisket, on the other hand, was absolutely terrible. It was dry, stringy, tasteless without the benefit of the sauce that I wasn't wild about, and tough. Max, ever the observant deli man, immediately pointed out that it was sliced in the wrong direction, with the grain, which makes it even tougher and stringier than if sliced in the right direction, against the grain. One thing I will give Bryant's, the fries, supposedly cooked in lard, were very delicious.
The meat at Gates was better, although the experience wasn't as colorful. It has a more chain-restaurant atmosphere compared to the more down-and-dirty Bryant's. And it was after 2 on Sunday afternoon. We were told the busy hour had passed. On the recommendation of the adorably animated and friendly counter woman, we ordered a "party platter," which consists of a full rack of ribs with what they say is one pound of other meats - plus sides. I believe we got way more than one pound of "other" meat. The brisket was better than Bryant's. At least it was cut in the right direction, and had some slight level of succulence. The ribs had more rub and more smoke, so I only dabbed at the sauce, which, also in three flavor profiles, was much more to my liking in any case. Since I regretted missing burned ends at Arthur Bryant's -- the man in front of me on line convinced me to order rib ends instead, a sometime special -- I wasn't about to miss the crusty, charred, but succulent trim from the brisket at Gate's. Boy, was that worth the calories?!
By now we were belching smoke. Literally. We considered going to one more barbecue, but figured a famous Kansas City steak might be more prudent. (That sounds like a joke now.)
For this legendary meat, we went to the legendary Jess and Jim's Steakhouse at the edge of the city, in a southern section called Martin City, near the Kansas border. In fact, one wrong turn for one block and we were in Kansas. Jess and Jim's was highly recommended by a local couple we met at the Jazz Museum, and the name kept popping up when I did internet research. Michael Stern raves about it on www.RoadFood.com, but it was also cited by Jane Stern, in USA Today, as the best steakhouse in the country. That mention, along with other steakhouses around the country cited by other food critics, was in a story that appeared some years ago. It's hanging, framed, in the restaurant. Unfortunately, that citation by Jane has evolved into the declaration elsewhere that USA Today has anointed Jess and Jim's as the best steakhouse in America. Not by a very long shot.
This reminds me of the ads you see in the in-flight airline magazines, the ones that list "America's Best Steakhouses" or America's Best Seafood Restaurants." Folks, these are nothing but paid advertising, cooperative ads. All those steakhouses have gotten together to buy a page in the magazine and fool you into thinking the rankings are editorial. They have anointed themselves.
Anyway, the "Playboy Strip," Jess and Jim's name for a 25-ounce strip steak, is what Jane and Michael Stern rave about. So we ordered it. Max and I split it. It was very large indeed, but about the quality of meat I can buy in the supermarket. They say it is Angus, but I understand most beef cattle in the U.S. are Angus. Whatever the breed, this specimen lacked the flavor beef attains from dry aging, and the juiciness from extensive marbling. It was, however, reasonably tender and, compliments to the kitchen, cooked perfectly medium-rare, as ordered, apparently on a griddle, which gave it a beautifully crusted surface. By the way, the steak was $41.99, with a pedestrian salad and the best thing at Jess and Jim's, the so-called twice-baked potato. It is a gargantuan thing. I'd guess it is at least twelve ounces. It is not actually "twice-baked," our waitress confided. It is first deep fried for an hour and a half. Then the potato is split, fluffed and blended with a mixture of milk and cream. Then, before it is put into the oven for its second cooking, it is topped with butter, cheese, and crumbled bacon. This potato probably has more calories than anyone should eat in a day. Max and I split that, too, but even we, men of girth, couldn't finish it.
After trying Bryant's and Gates barbecues, Max kept saying I needed to try Pappy's back in St. Louis, the city's newest barbecue joint, which bills itself as "Memphis-style." I am getting confused about all these different regional styles of barbecue, but Pappy's ribs get my very, very highest compliment - they are stupendous without the addition of sauce. Crusted with a spicy, salty (but not overly) layer of whatever is rubbed into them, they are juicy and fall off the bone without being steamy, and they are deeply smoked and ... what can I say? Barbecued rib-wise, I am so lucky that Rachel and Max live in St. Louis.
