Andrew and Dad's Bar-b-que Weekend, Year 4, Part 3

 Slaps BBQ

Andrew and I arrived at Slaps, located in the Strawberry Hill neighborhood of Kansas City on the Kansas side, and the first thing we noticed was all the people standing around. It was Sunday morning. The place didn’t open for another five minutes, and yet there was a line out of the door and the parking lot was three-quarters full with a line of cars waiting to turn in and fill up the few remaining spots. We quickly secured our spot in line, but once the doors opened, we had made our order, paid, and received our food within five minutes.  Long lines, short wait. This was the first of many contradictions in this meal which led us to determine that Slaps was good, and it was not so good.

Not starved from the BBQ carnage of the day prior, we opted for a sampler plate, the Cattleman’s Platter, which had burnt ends, brisket, and beef sausage (good!). The server placed the meat on the platter, and was careful to count: four slices of brisket, 12 thin slices of sausage, and 6 chunks of burnt ends—no, make that five. She must have miscounted and took one away, putting it back in the smoker (not good). To be clear, I don’t expect any extra consideration when I patronize an establishment, but this is a competitive business in a competitive town, and there are other places that wouldn’t have been so…exacting. Perhaps they were afraid they would run out food. Regardless, this meal came to a mere 21 dollars, which with the two sides, made for a pretty good value. So far, the equation had balanced itself out.

We chose the bacon mac and cheese and the cheese curds for our two sides. Extra sauce cups were advertised as twenty-five cents apiece extra (not good), so we ordered two, but I don’t think we were charged. This is because just outside in the heated screened porch, there were two massive bottles of each of their signature sauces with cups for the filling. We filled (very good).

Sitting at our picnic-style table with our food in front of us, we attempted to count out who gets how much of each portion, which was hard considering there wasn’t a lot for oversampling. Burnt ends were cut in half to stretch them further. Very moist with a good fat content (good), decent smoke (neutral), but almost non-existent bark (not good). The brisket was the same; great moisture (good) with decent smoke (neutral), but this meat surprised us the most. It had a sweetness to it that made us feel as if we were eating meat candy (uh, wow). That was unexpected and quite lovely. Finally, the sausage was superb. Great smoky, juicy, but skinny pieces of love. The contradictions kept adding up.

The sides were a letdown. The Bacon mac and cheese was creamy (good) but came in a very small sample cup (not good) and contained one small fragment of bacon that imparted zero bacon flavor on the dish (really not good). Had the Federal Trade Commission showed up for lunch, they might have had a truth in advertising case on their hands. The other side dish, the cheese curds, was made to order, so came out piping hot a mere two minutes after we sat down (good). Honestly, you can find better fried curds at DQ or A&W (just okay). 

We sampled all of this, and had a few samples of each item left, so we went for the sauce. This is where things really started to look up for Slaps. The sauces kept pace with the contradictions. The sweet sauce was super heavy on the molasses. When applied to the sweet brisket, it was glorious, redefining what bar-b-que can be. On the other hand, the spicy sauce was stingy spicy, the sting lingering on the lips and tongue for minutes afterwards. When applied to the brisket, it created an entirely new dish. Beautiful contradictions. Andrew and I became so enamored with the sauces that we put them on everything, fighting over the two slices of bread that acted as the bed for the sample meats so we could soak up the remaining sauce in our sample cups. We both raved about how good the sauces were, and we both spoke at the same time: I said, “The sweet sauce is awesome!” while he said, “I love the spicy sauce!”  We just smiled at each other (good). We decided it was good enough to ask the lady at the window if we could buy a bottle of each. Unfortunately, she said that they don’t sell bottled sauce there, but we could wait until the Ace Hardware up the street opened to buy some (not good; we were leaving town right afterwards.)

Bottom line, in a town crazed with bar-b-que, Slaps has an outstanding following. People love their food, and for good reason. Is there better bar-b-que in KC? I think so, but the price point and the sauces alone are enough to make us consider coming back next time we are in town.

Andrew and Dad's Bar-b-que Weekend, Year 4, Part 2

 BB’s Lawnside BBQ

“Turn Right on 85^th and go South about 60 Years.” This is the motto that B.B.’s Lawnside BBQ has adopted, and the restaurant’s tone and atmosphere certainly reflect that. B.B.’s puts a lot of emphasis on the dining experience; that is to say that food and live music go together like the holy trinity of onions, carrots, and celery in Cajun dishes, of which there are plenty at BB’s.

Nestled in the semi-underdeveloped south KC MO Legacy East neighborhood, this is another Kansas City institution that could slide under the radar due to location, but doesn’t because local great secrets don’t stay local for long when it comes to Kansas City bar-b-que.  BB’s is part bar on one end, part live-music stage on the other end, and part communal picnic table-style BBQ restaurant in the middle. It doesn’t have the dive feel of a Big T’s or LC’s. More spacious and clean, the character jumps out of the walls; every square inch of wall space, including the restrooms, has posters, fliers, stickers and memorabilia that revolve around blues music and BBQ, a working dichotomy that challenges the status quo.

It’s a very welcoming place too, not pretentious-serious, or blue-collar-serious, which seem to be the two opposing styles of the modern-day KC BBQ scene: new versus old, battling it out for the heart and soul of the city. Now, I can appreciate the tone set by a serious restaurant or dive as part of its culture, or ambiance, or even its charm, but my base standard always remains functional service. BB’s is better than that because it goes beyond functional, even welcoming. From the greeting to the check, the wait staff made me feel like I was a part of their family and they truly wanted me to be happy with my experience. When you go to BB’s you go there to have fun. Going “South about 60 Years” doesn’t just mean the music.

The meat is middling. Both Andrew and I agreed on this point. After one setting, I can’t say that the smoke is what will bring me back, because it was very light on the smoke, the exact opposite of LC’s. Now, granted my palate is not what it used to be, but the burnt end sandwich tasted like a sandwich made from pot roast that had come from a crock pot. For comparisons-sake, the reasons that Arthur Bryants’ burnt ends are so good is that they have just enough bark, they keep enough of their fat content, and their sauce is lovely. At BB’s, the burn ends have little bark, and though they have retained their moisture, there wasn’t the flavor that comes from the bark and fat that makes a burnt end…well…a burnt end. Without bar-b-que sauce, they were doomed to mediocrity. It took copious amounts of sauce and a little imagination to bring out any flavor. The ribs fared no better than the burnt ends, but for a different reason. They were smoked too long and lost all of their tenderness, once again relying on the sauce to compensate. This was the only disappointing part of the evening for Andrew and me.

But BB’s sauce is different. The sauce one of the edible areas in which they shine. They sport three sauces, the original, the hot, and the habanero peach. My helpful server suggested the habanero peach, and I was hesitant, bringing  to mind pain and sweat and a little more pain. No, this sauce was different. It was super sweet, balanced with just enough heat to cause a little bite afterwards. If Georgia and Texas were to hook up one night, this sauce would be the result. I am not a fan of hot bar-b-que sauce, but I was a fan of BB’s.

And so it seems “sweet” is what BB’s does best, which brings me to the highlight of the night. Known for their bread pudding, it came hot and plentiful. Again, not something I would normally eat, it was the star of the meal. Moist with sparse raisons, and drenched in their famous sweet bourbon glace, the bread pudding was tantamount to the best iced cinnamon roll we have ever eaten. Our only regret was that one of us didn’t order the fried version.

I made it a point to ask the waitress her suggestion for sides, and when she offered the skillet fries, a house favorite that takes on the diner’s conception of what breakfast diced potatoes are, I scoffed and ordered the battered fries. This was a rookie mistake on my part. Always go with the wait staff’s suggestion. The battered fries were 4 huge potato wedges that were so lightly battered it was as if I were eating a baked potato without the aid of butter or sour cream. Next time I will do better.

To fully experience BB’s Lawnside BBQ, go on a Saturday afternoon from 2:00 to 5:00, or 6:00 and later (the latter with a $5 cover) so that you can appreciate the live music. Order the bread pudding. Scratch that. Order two orders of the bread pudding, and whatever meat you choose, don’t forget the sauce. It’s great, and free, as it should be in any respectable bar-b-que restaurant. Go with the family, occupy a picnic table, and soak in the atmosphere of a bygone era still holding onto its roots.

Andrew and Dad's Bar-b-que Weekend, Year 4, Part 1

 

LC’s Bar-B-Q

The word “dive” when referred to a restaurant, can have a negative connotation, but in using it when describing LC’s Bar-B-Q, it is written with deep respect, for LC’s is a serious dive.

Situated next to the Blue River, which is anything but blue, LC’s Bar-B-Q shares its neighborhood with a couple of used car dealers, a garbage dump service, and a garage, which means its customers are coming there, not because they spotted it on the way home from church and just want to try it out because of a fancy neon sign. Their customers are intentional, serious eaters of bar-b-que, and they come to this neighborhood joint from all over the city for some serious bar-b-que. Maybe the Blue River is named after the blue collar locals that are the lifeblood of this community.

When peering through the barred windows, one can see that the inside mimics the outside. Small, cramped, undusted, unglamorous, and serious, it brings to mind Grimaldi’s Pizza in Brooklyn where the food is serious and the food left on the table from last week is all part of the charm. The difference here being that at LC’s the tables are cleaned often enough that you don’t mind putting your elbows on the table when taking on a rib.

Walking through the door, the first thing that greeted Andrew and me were the long lines, one waiting to order on one side, and one waiting on their order on the other. The some-six or seven tables in the joint only hold some-24 to 28 people, which is why they probably added a stand-up table in the back corner that can accommodate a maximum of 3 people shoulder-to-shoulder. Each table had a paper towel holder. Some of the holders have paper towels. LC, the original owner who has since passed on, has an “office” memorialized to him against the west wall with two of his pictures hanging over a modest desk and chair, and three very large catfish hanging on the wall, acting as guardians to keep another stander from sitting down. The office takes up a four-foot square space, as unpretentious as everything else in LC’s.

The smoker is in your face, right behind the counter, and displays the bountiful stacks of meat they have for the day; when it’s gone, it’s gone. Better come back earlier tomorrow. Its lovely smoke will permeate your clothes upon entering. If your wife has you on a diet, you had better change and shower off the betrayal before you get home, or at least have the courtesy to bring some BBQ home for her as an apology. When you order, you wait a good 10 to 15 minutes before you’re served, but the serious gentleman behind the counter apologizes to you in a way that expresses years of practice. It’s just how things are done around here, and people don’t seem to care much because the meal is worth the wait.

When the food comes out, it doesn’t look very special. Each item is served individually on its own white Styrofoam plate or bowl, the white more easily showing the bar-b-que sauce dripping down the side and onto whatever gravity chooses for its final resting place. If you’re lucky enough to find a seat at one of the tables, the payoff comes next. If you haven’t gotten enough of the smoke in the air, you will get your share with the food. The burnt ends, both beef and pork, have a thick, crispy bark that shoves the smoke in your face, obtrusively, unapologetically. You’d have to have Covid mouth not to notice the smoke. In creating the bark, the meat’s moisture suffers slightly, which is why they pour a good helping of their tomato-based sweet and tangy house sauce on top. Two slices of white on bottom and one on top makes for a one-pound sandwich that must be eaten with a fork, or forks.

When you eat the sides, that’s where LC’s catfish guardians on the wall play in to the restaurant’s style. Spicy battered green beans that remind you of hush puppies, and panko-battered onion rings make you feel like you are at a fish fry. They, themselves, could pose as the meal, and you would walk out satisfied. It is this amalgamation of south meets KC’s Midwest that makes LC’s unique, as if LC’s needed any help in that arena. Top it off with a small portion of their peach cobbler, not that you had room for that, and you and a buddy are walking into the fresh-ish air outside a mere 30 dollars lighter in the wallet. Amazing price point! Maybe this is why an extra cup of sauce costs 50 cent--something I overlooked considering.

In this day and age of out-of-control inflation, LC’s is waging war for their customers. Go to LC’s Bar-B-Q if you want a traditional, original, blue-collar, Kansas City Bar-b-que experience.