It just ain't a barbecue list without a Kansas City joint. Maxim just released its list of "America's 5 Best BBQ Hot Spots," and Fiorella's Jack Stack Barbecue is sitting at No. 5. It sits there alongside Franklin Barbecue out of Austin, Texas (which claimed the top spot); Black Dog Smoke & Ale House in Urbana, Illinois; the Joint in New Orleans, Louisiana; and Fox Brothers BBQ out of Atlanta, Georgia.
Maxim is not shy in its praise of Jack Stack, home to "what might be the greatest piece of Kansas City barbecue that will ever be inside your mouth, ever." As with all statements about KC barbecue, that one is ripe for debate.
Pitmasters guard their secrets like the Knights Templar, only giving them up when faced with death or a human of great moral conviction (a penitent man, for example). So I'll admit that I was a bit worried for Kansas City pitmasters when I saw that Famous Dave's was promising to reveal the secret to burnt ends. I envisioned a squirrelly executive infiltrating the smoky underbelly of KC just to ferret away a multigenerational spice rub or time-honed wood mix. Then I remembered, this is Famous Dave's we're talking about...
A plethora of barbecue in Kansas City renders the average man as soft as an overcooked pork butt. We tend to go on autopilot and head for the nearest smoker we know. But great barbecue demands effort; just ask any pitmaster worth his pig salt.
On the first day that I drove by Auto's Plus (112 N. Highway) in Smithville, I saw the smoke rising from the parking lot of the used-car lot and I did nothing. Heading back south, I learned that the smoke was coming from a black smoker in the right corner of the lot. And I saw a vinyl banner advertising Bonedogs BBQ stretched across the front of the building. It was then that I rolled down my window, inhaled deeply and pledged my fealty. I would return the next day. Barbecue being served out of a used-car lot is not a choice; it's a calling.
The world of barbecue may very well never be the same. GWAR intends to unleash its 'GWAR-B-Q' sauce at Grinders (417 E. 18th St.) on Monday, April 8, from 6 to 8 p.m.
The metal band's sauce - bottled locally at Original Juan's and created by the guitar player known as Balsac, the Jaws of Death - will be the centerpiece of a "Meat & Meet" event. It's in the Crossroads that GWAR will "drink and eat themselves into a bloated coma with their legion of slavering fans."
Oklahoma Joe's is hoping that its latest menu item has legs, even if the featured ingredient is not one of the usual four-legged suspects. The barbecue joint known for its facility with meat is taking on the sea with a new smoked salmon salad that debuts today.
"Fish is not part of the barbecue canon," says Oklahoma Joe's Director of Marketing Doug Worgul. "But I always say that [co-owner] Jeff [Stehney] is very much an innovative traditionalist."
The salmon, imported from Chile, is cured for 36 hours before a housemade dry rub is applied. It then marinates for 72 hours before being finished in the smoker.
"Curing and rubbing and smoking. It's the same process we use for meat," Worgul says. "This is Joe's Kansas City Smoked Salmon prepared in the Kansas City tradition."
Diggs (left) and Fossland are looking to shine the spotlight on barbecue.
Kansas City is one big barbecue biosphere. The scent of wood smoking permeates our neighborhoods, barbecue sauce runs as thick as Brush Creek, and Kansas Citians can't hold a gathering without putting fire to meat.
This summer, filmmakers Martin Diggs and Kevin Fossland, the pair behind Burnt Ends Media, set out to understand why that's the case, capturing footage at barbecue competitions and raising money for their untitled documentary, which they hope to release next fall. Diggs sat down with The Pitch to explain how the project came about and what they're shooting now.
Your fries can get a little help for the holidays.
Oklahoma Joe's may have built its third and self-proclaimed final location, but that doesn't mean the Manliest Restaurant in America is done growing. The area barbecue joint with a high national profile is in the midst of a large kitchen expansion at its Olathe restaurant and has just made its french-fry seasoning available for retail. purchase.
"People have been asking about it for years. That's our first sign," co-owner Jeff Stehney says. "But it probably came 10 years after people wanted it."
Lost in the lament over Twinkies' demise is the death of another tradition: Wonder Bread at Kansas City barbecue joints. Fox 4 delved into what happened to area barbecue restaurants when Hostess winked out of existence. The happy answer is not much has changed, even if they've had to scramble to find bread in the short term.
Zarda bought buns at the grocery store before the supply ran out and has Bimbo Bakery working on a hoagie roll for their sandwiches. Arthur Bryant's turned to Roma Bakery for its sliced white bread. But as Bryant's manager Willis Simpson explained to Fox 4, the secret was never in the Wonder Bread:
"No one has said anything, it's most about the meat," Simpson said.
Local man turned movie star Rob Riggle is easy to love for two reasons: He never stops cheerleading for Kansas City and he seems to enjoy his life off-screen as much as on-screen. He graces the virtual pages of Fat City this morning for an interview with Details that ran Monday, in which he explained why those raised on Kansas City barbecue might never truly develop a taste for anything else:
Kansas City has your molasses-based barbecue that you find a lot in the Midwest. To me, if you're molasses-based, you are already winning. Once you get out to North Carolina, then you're getting into vinegar-based barbecue, and that doesn't fly with me. My palate has been calibrated for Kansas City barbecue.
Riggle is a long-established fan of Fiorella's Jack Stack Barbecue, but the concept of taste buds primed for Kansas City's take on barbecue is fascinating. Do you think your palate has been calibrated for KC barbecue, or are you still able to appreciate different styles?
You will be tempted by other brisket. You're only human.
I see you there, Anthony. At the corner table with that other brisket. The one from Texas. The one that everybody has been dancing with lately. And I know that it tastes sweet. New is often thought to be better. It's exciting. It's a bit dangerous. And you're thrilled because you don't know what the next bite is going to be like.
I want you to know that I'm not angry. I'm not charred. I'm not bitter. In fact, I'm glad that you've found someone else. We were never going to be exclusive. I'm a barbecue of the people. I could never be reserved for one person. But that doesn't mean I won't forget our time together and what you've meant to me. I know you feel the same. You toldThe Birmingham News that very thing.
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