The next night I bought some lemongrass leaves and the day after I put my trusty spice grinder to work, making a rub using the six key ingredients in the chip spices. I combined the freshly ground lemongrass (6 parts), salt (4), coriander (2), chili powder (2), ginger (1) and garlic (1). Visually, the final result doesn’t look all that much different from any of the other chicken I’ve cooked, but the taste was intense. The lemongrass contrasted nicely with the sharper spices and worked as well on chicken as it did on the chips. I purposely didn’t include sugar in the rub but I might try it next time.

]]> http://getyourgrillon.net/2008/08/05/lemongrass-bbq-chicken/feed/ http://getyourgrillon.net/2008/05/13/spam-burnt-ends/ http://getyourgrillon.net/2008/05/13/spam-burnt-ends/#comments Tue, 13 May 2008 08:00:43 +0000 Gary Goldblatt BBQ Wood Recipes Meat Ingredients http://getyourgrillon.net/2008/05/13/spam-burnt-ends/ A few weeks ago l cooked up what I’m now calling SPAM “Burnt Ends.” I had been looking for an interesting take on SPAM that I could serve at a luau my wife and I are planning for later in the summer (SPAM is huge in Hawaii, so it would make a novel appetizer). I had seen some recipes for barbecued bologna and could easily just adapt those to the SPAM, but I took things a few steps further.

The inspiration comes from the burnt ends of brisket at RUB (New York City): take an overly rich cut of meat, rub it, smoke it, sauce it, cube it, rub it again and smoke it again. On most days I’ll take RUB’s burnt ends over what you see here, but it would take about six times the investment in both meat and smoking time. With brisket burnt ends, the crispness is a byproduct of rendering out some of the fat. Here, it’s a way to make a cheap hunk of processed meat a little more palatable.

I took three cans of SPAM and started by scoring the outsides, partly for appearance and partly to help grip the flavor additions I’d apply later. I then lightly coated two of the three with sesame oil and the third with mustard—again, partly for flavor, partly to help the rub stick. I rubbed the first two with Willie B’s Bourbon rub (spiked with about 20% cayenne). The third was treated to a lethal dose of Doctor Gonzo’s new barbecue dry rub.

I smoked the SPAM over Hawaiian kiawe, a breed of wood similar to both guava and mesquite. After about an hour and a half, I glazed the first two with a homemade Huli Huli basting sauce. Huli Huli chicken is a popular item in Hawaii, named because the chicken is turned (”huli”) frequently, with the basting sauce applied at each turn. There are many Huli Huli sauce recipes available on the web, but mine uses pineapple juice, pineapple jelly, lime juice, ketchup, soy sauce, hot sauce, ginger and brown sugar.

After another twenty minutes, I cut the SPAM into slices and chunks, then added more mop and more rub, purposely varying the amounts among the various pieces. The final twenty minutes was enough to crisp up the surface and allow the second wave of rub to blend with the meat.

The smaller chunks were perfect for nibbling; the larger slices made their way into mini sandwiches made with a sliced baguette and Hawaiian style hot sauce.

BBQ at Gas Stations?
It sounds odd, but it makes sense. It’s expensive opening a restaurant nowadays, so unless you have a Sugar Daddy, making the leap from barbecue competitor to barbecue restaurateur isn’t as easy as you’d want it to be. In 1930, Harlan Sanders (before he was known as the Colonel) got his Kentucky Fried Chicken empire off the ground by selling his soon-to-be-legendary poultry at a gas station. Maybe that’s the route some future legend in the barbecue world will take to get started. “Twenty dollars of high test and two racks of ribs, please.”

Wesson Bread
I can still remember those commercials of my youth, where (even before Florence Henderson), they’d take an unsliced loaf of bread, square it off to remove the crust, then deep fry it in Wesson oil. It always looked great. I bet some enterprising restaurant owner could showcase this as an “amuse” before the meal, as an appetizer (maybe with a spicy dipping sauce) or as a housing for an even fattier rendition of a chopped brisket sandwich.

Two Kinds of Pulled Pork
Why not? If KFC offers regular and extra crispy chicken, why can’t a barbecue restaurant offer both a traditional pork shoulder, as well as a Jamaican jerk-rubbed one? Or an out-there coriander-caraway-rubbed one? Or Sichuan peppercorn and basil? The oddball offshoots don’t have to be available regularly, but could rotate as second choice specials.

BBQ Breakfast
In the Northeast, you can get Sunday brunch at joints like Duke’s (NYC) and LJ’s BBQ (Pawtucket, RI), and Redbones (Somerville, MA) is probably the best of the bunch, but this is a largely untapped market. Sausages are easy to smoke, and briskets coming right out of the smoker after an all-night smoke would go perfectly with eggs. I’ve seen some creative things done with potatoes and sweet potatoes at grilling contests, many of which would be ideal as a breakfast side.

Chili Tank
At some Starbucks locations, I’ve seen Ghostbusters-like backpack contraptions that mobile baristas wear to dispense hot coffee outdoors. Why not chili?

A Flay-McDavid Reunion
If Eddie Van Halen can come to his senses and tour with David Lee Roth again, it’s high time Bobby Flay came to his senses and reunite with his Grillin’ and Chillin’ television partner, Jack McDavid. Flay has since done other Food Network shows with other co-hosts and solo, but the best television he ever did was with McDavid, the yin to Flay’s yang. City slicker Flay liked gas, high heat and cutting edge vinaigrettes, while bumpkin McDavid was strictly old school. We need more Jack McDavid nowadays.

Things that disappointed me:

• For the ribs I tried a new rub that had what I thought was a good combination of ingredients, but in practice wound up rather dull. It was about 40% turbinado sugar—that’s significantly more than what I usually use, but not unusual. Chile powder (guajillo and chipotle) accounted for a little less than 20%, but in the end it tasted more like 10%. There was nothing unpleasant about the rub’s contribution to the final taste, but there really didn’t seem to be much of a contribution at all.

• I did a less than stellar job removing the rib membrane. For restaurant volumes this is usually considered impractical, but removing the membrane for competition is a must. I usually handle this fine, but one out of every four or five racks seems to give me a problem. If I ever decide to compete on my own, my skills need to improve.

• I procrastinated and didn’t order the external thermometer in time for this cook. The one that came with the unit hasn’t been accurate, so I’ve been relying on an oven thermometer tha t I rest on the cooking surface. This seems pretty accurate, but if I’m only checking it periodically, I run the risk of either checking too often and affecting the temperature or not checking often enough and not reacting soon enough to out-of-tolerance temperatures.

• I used boneless, skinless chicken thighs. I knew this was a problem from the beginning, but my wife selected them, so I agreed. If it were up to her, we’d be eating at an upscale restaurant that night, so I let my gratefulness for the Saturday cook affect a decision that should have been made differently. Next time, it’s thighs with skin and bone. If she doesn’t want to eat the skin, she doesn’t have to.

• 

  It took three full hours for the chicken to cook. Despite temperatures ranging from 200F to 250F, it took much longer than usual to get the boneless thighs to the point of proper doneness. I’m going to chalk this up to both of the previous problems.

• The ribs were juicy but the chicken was merely moist, with some dry meat at the surface. Good barbecue chicken should be juicy. I’ve achieved juicy before but not this time.
• I’m usually a no-sauce guy, but I decided to finish the ribs with a thin coating of sauce to add flavor and crisp up the bark. Although there was a nice natural bark already, th e sauce never caramelized, even after a half hour. This might be another fallout of the temperature gage problem. I’ll try this technique again next time and see if the results improve.

Things that pleased me:

• Despite the temperature issues, I managed to make enough adjustments on my cooker to get both the ribs and the chicken cooked properly. Although there’s still plenty of room for improvement, I was pleased with the tenderness and the flavor.
• The chicken rub, despite having no sugar, still supplied plenty of flavor. I used the same rub I used for Thanksgiving turkey parts, with celery seeds and coriander seeds two of the key ingredients.
• The chicken marinade was also a sugar-free affair, and the mix of Diet Coke, Italian dressing, Worcestershire sauce, hot sauce and low carb maple syrup worked well.
• I tried a new trick during the foiling process to sweeten the ribs, and this seemed to be a success. I’m still experimenting and will report my findings after additional research.
• The chicken was merely moist but the ribs were juicy.
• I concocted a cherry glaze for the ribs and a pineapple glaze for (just two pieces of) the chicken. Both worked well with the meat, both had plenty of other flavors and both were sufficiently within the confines of “traditional barbecue” to be at home at a competition.
• Even though my new external thermometer should be arriving any day now, I found and ordered a dual probe thermometer online. This will provide constant remote readout of both the meat temperature and the smoker temperature.

The Zimmer ads had a short shelf life, more recently replaced by new copy with a new, slicker-sounding announcer, who warns us not to be fooled by those other “shredded” barbecue products. He notes that Curly’s is always pulled, never shredded, implying that there’s some sort of quality advantage here.

A few nights ago I decided to give Curly’s a try, more out of curiosity than out of any belief that—pulled, shredded or otherwise—it would be any good.

The first thing I noticed on the label was that the pulled pork received second billing to the barbecue sauce. This wasn’t pulled pork, it was “barbecue sauce with hickory smoked pulled pork.” So my expectation dropped a few notches.

The second thing I noticed was that the picture of the pork on the package looked a lot better than the pork—no, make that barbecue sauce with pulled pork—inside the container.

I do give the product points for the sturdy plastic tub and the easy-to-follow instructions for both stove top and microwave reheating. Getting it cooked was a breeze.

The finished product was disappointing, even with my low expectation level. I did spot one piece of bark, which had a little chew to it, but the rest of the pork was as limp as Chef Boyardee spaghetti. And the sauce was just as mild. I didn’t taste any smoke.

The third thing I noticed was the nutritional information: 110 calories per serving, approximately nine servings in the 18-ounce tub. While the bowl might be more than enough for one person, I can’t see getting nine servings out of it. At 1,000 calories for the bowl, I decided it wasn’t worth it. After four bites, I was done.

]]> http://getyourgrillon.net/2008/01/29/supermarket-product-review-curlys-pulled-pork/feed/ http://getyourgrillon.net/2007/11/19/i-am-the-egg-man/ http://getyourgrillon.net/2007/11/19/i-am-the-egg-man/#comments Mon, 19 Nov 2007 08:00:48 +0000 Gary Goldblatt BBQ Equipment http://getyourgrillon.net/2007/11/19/i-am-the-egg-man/ Sunday brought a new arrival to our family, and that arrival is my new Big Green Egg, a combination smoker and grill. I’ve enjoyed using my Weber Smokey Mountain cooker for a few years now, but I’ve been looking for a new toy to play with. When I set aside a weekend for smoking, I want to have the capacity to cook in quantity and cook a lot of different meats, using different woods. I also want to be able to cook outdoors 12 months a year, which isn’t easy in the New England area.

I briefly considered simply getting a second Weber, but I wanted something a little different. I specifically wanted a tool that would reach temperature quickly, maintain andadjust temperature with minimal effort and be able to perform even in New England winter temperatures. I asked around, and the Big Green Egg met all of those criteria. And it’s also versatile enough to grill steaks over 1200 degree heat, bake cookies and pizza like an oven, and do what I plan to do most: smoke ribs, butts and chicken.

The Egg was almost my very first smoker. A few years ago, a grill and smoker store called the Backyard Barbeque had a going out of business sale just a few miles from my house, and I nearly pulled the trigger then. But I wondered whether I would really use it enough to justify its price tag. I also wondered whether it was just too weird looking. Was I nuts?

Weird looking or not, the Big Green Egg is a throwback to the ceramic smokers that originated in Asia a few thousand years ago. The walls of the cooker are nearly two inches thick, so you know it’ll hold in the heat and the smoke, and there’s nothing weird about that. I like that there’s a thermometer on the outside, a spring-loaded cover and a dishwasher-safe grill grate. I’m a little concerned about the limited access to the fuel area, but the Eggs are known for their efficiency and their ability to go for 12 hours straight on one load of fuel.

On Good Eats, Food Network personality Alton Brown once crafted a homemade model based on this same principle. And there are other fans: Ray Lampe, aka “Dr. BBQ,” has won contests using the Big Green Egg, and is now on board as a spokesman. Last year, barbecue champion Chris Hart of IQue was featured with his Big Green Egg in the Boston Globe, likening it to the Ferrari of smokers. I’m really looking forward to driving my new Ferrari.

#1 All Star Sandwich Bar, Cambridge MA
This isn’t a full-fledged barbecue joint, but on a part time basis they offer pulled pork and brisket sandwiches made with the meats smoked a few doors down at Chris Schlesinger’s East Coast Grill. This “no beans, no cryin’” chili, available full-time and containing the brisket from these same pits, is the best combination of meat, heat and spice I’ve ever tasted. You might say “heat and spice” is redundant, but it’s not. There’s plenty of heat from the chiles and there’s plenty of savory flavors going on thanks to the liberal use of cumin and other ingredients that hit you from a different angle entirely. The cornbread that accompanies it is pretty good too. www.allstarsandwichbar.com

#2 Big W’s, Wingdale NY
There are two chilis available here, and both are excellent. Whether you choose beef or chicken, you’ll get a tremendous amount of meat and a mildly spiced broth that enhances the meat without overshadowing it. The nice thing about the brisket chili is that the fat has already been trimmed from the slices. The nice thing about the chicken chili is that it’s healthy enough—and good enough—to eat every day. The nice thing about both chilis is you can include as a side on your combo platter. www.bigwbbq.com

#3 Jake’s Dixie Roadhouse, Waltham MA
This is one of the few chilis out there that’s pure, unadulterated pork, with a very spicy broth. www.jakes-bbq.com

#4 Hill Country BBQ, New York City
The other flavors kick in too, but what you notice most about this chili is that it’s made with beer, and lots of it. There are no beans and though there’s an adequate portion of beef, there’s plenty of that beer and chile pepper-studded broth. If they used larger chunks of the same brisket available in the meat line, I’d rank this a slot or two higher. www.hillcountryny.com

#5 Daisy May’s, New York City
This chili is widely regarded as the best in the city, and not just among barbecue joints. It’s pure beef, served in big, tender chunks, with just enough broth to serve as a lubricant. The spice level is fairly mild, but the flavor is very pleasant. www.daisymaysbbq.com

#6 RUB BBQ, New York City
This is my highest-ranking chili that has beans, and it’s because they blend nicely with the more abundant similar-sized chunks of very smoky brisket. The heat level is medium. www.rubbbq.net

#7 Waterfront Ale House, New York City
Here’s another joint that’s not quite a barbecue joint, but still has barbecue on the menu. It’s also a joint that has two varieties of chili. I haven’t tried the venison and black bean version, but I’m looking forward to it. The beef and pork version, with medium-high heat, is a basic straightforward chili, but one of the best basic straightforward chilis out there. www.waterfrontalehouse.com

#8 Little Danny’s Taste of Texas, South Windsor CT
This bowl of chili is also basic and straightforward, but it’s made with buffalo meat. Different texture, different flavor, and it’s good. If buffalo isn’t your thing, they have beef chili too. www.dannyslittletasteoftexas.com

#9 Buck’s Naked, Freeport ME
It seems as though they take an “everything but the kitchen sink” approach here, because this chili has beef, pork, chicken and a couple of different beans. I’ve only had it once, so I wonder if it changes from day to day. www.bucksnaked-bbq.com

#10 Chili Head BBQ, W. Bridgewater MA
For a Texas style barbecue joint, the beans in the chili are a little out of place, but rather than being unwelcome intruders for texture only, they actually supply much of the flavor. The meat is a combination of ground beef and large brisket cubes. But the really unique thing about this chili is that you can customize the heat level when you order it, on a scale of 1 to 15. Anything over a 10 requires a signed waiver. You can also use El Yucateo hot sauce at the table to add even more heat if necessary. www.chiliheadbbq.com

#11 Redbones, Somerville MA
There are so many appetizers on the Redbones menu, it’s easy to forget about the chili, but theirs is pretty memorable. It’s made with large cubes of beef and the broth is very thin, like beef stock. A little unorthodox, but it gets the job done. www.redbonesbbq.com

#12 Firefly’s, 3 MA locations
The chili here—a mix of brisket, sirloin and pork—is like a microcosm of the restaurant as a whole. Sometimes there’s beans, sometimes there’s not. Sometimes it’s thick, sometimes it’s thin. Sometimes it’s mostly beef, sometimes it’s mostly pork. More often than not, it’s good, and when it’s on, it’s very good. www.fireflysbbq.com

The great thing about chili is that there are no rules. You can make it with beef, pork, chicken, veal, lamb, turkey, buffalo or venison. You can use sliced meat, chopped meat, ground meat or sausages. You can even (gasp) make it without any meat at all. I’ve tried them all and I’ve liked most of them—yes, even vegetarian chili. There are arguments, to be sure. Beans or no beans? I say no beans, but if you serve me a chili with beans, I’ll eat it. My wife and I are in complete agreement on the beans issue, but she likes it chunky enough and dry enough to eat with a fork, while I like more of the meaty broth to go along with the meaty chunks. How hot is hot enough? How far from the basic meat and chili powder should you stray? Should you eat it straight or with onions and cheese? There are no rules.

I’m a no-rules guy who’s also a no-recipe guy. Sure, I’ll read them, but only to get ideas, not follow them to the letter. So in that spirit, here’s a version—not a recipe—of a of a chili my wife and I made recently.

The foundation of any chili is the meat. Here, I’m using ground beef, ground pork and leftover sliced brisket.

Whenever possible, I like to combine different meats to create a variety of flavors and textures. Ground beef and ground pork may seem to have the same texture raw, but when cooked the pork adds a silkiness you can’t achieve with beef alone. The brisket, to be added only after the other meats have been cooked, adds another dimension entirely. I like to chop half of it finely so that it blends with the rest of the meat. I’ll chop the other half (choosing the pieces with the most bark) into larger chunks that will stand out. The larger chunks get added toward the end.

The brisket is supplying some smoke, and so is my first secret ingredient: onions I smoked a week earlier (I’d use some sausage too, but they’re gone). Whenever I smoke meats, I’ll smoke extra items I can use in stove-cooked dishes down the road. Adding onions to the chili during cooking may be taboo to some, but I like one small onion, finely chopped, per pound of meat.

I’m a huge fan of cumin, and I’ll use it quite liberally in some of my rubs and chilis. Buying cumin as whole seeds and grinding them as needed is the way to go. Just as with fresh-ground coffee, you’ll release more of the flavors this way. I probably should have pan-toasted the seeds before grinding for even more flavor. If you’re using cumin as a secret ingredient to add some depth to the chili, a teaspoon to a tablespoon for every pound of meat is good. To really taste it (but reveal the secret), go for a little more than that.

The chile (spelled with an “e”) powders. Here I’m using three parts ancho (not much heat, but a sweet, mellow flavor), two parts generic dark mix and one part New Mexico chiles (a little more heat). I’m a heat freak, but I’d rather go for flavor than heat in the chili, allowing each guest to customize the heat level later using hot sauce. I’ll prepare some bowls super hot, and for other bowls just enjoy the ancho and cumin flavors.

The next secret ingredient is chocolate. Just a little will add some complexity. I also used a small can of diced tomatoes, some salt, pepper, garlic powder and a good dose of paprika.

A common secret ingredient: beer. I only used half a bottle for three pounds of meat, but I’ve had some chili where you can really taste the beer.

It’s starting to become chili.

I would have liked to cook it longer to let the meat break down a little more and the flavors marry better. But since time was tight and there are no rules, we ate it before it spent an hour in the pot.

The first bowl, with no accompaniment other than hot sauce. There was no way that barky piece would not wind up in my bowl.

My second bowl, pictured at the beginning of the article was topped with sour cream and cilantro.

“I’ll be taking care of you.”
The full version of this one is something like, “Hi , my name is Jen and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Can I start you off with a drink?” It’s actually not a pet peeve at all (unless it comes out hyper-rehearsed) until Jen lets 20 minutes go by without taking our food order. Or lets my beer glass reach the empty mark and remain so for 20 minutes while she compares nail polish styles with another server. Or forgets to check back to see if I still wanted that side order that never showed up when the entrees were served by a runner instead of her. If that’s taking care of me, I’d hate to see what not taking care of me is like.

“Is this your first visit?”
This often gets squeezed in between “I’ll be taking care of you” and “Can I start you off with a drink?” and it’s also not a peeve as long as they have something informative to offer other than “Welcome back!” if I say no or “Well, you’re in for a treat!” if I say yes. I’m looking for helpful nuggets like whether salads are included or whether you can make substitutions or what the house specialty is.

“We’ve got the best pulled pork on the Island!”
This is an actual quote from a restaurateur on Long Island, responding to my question on which sandwich to order. Sometimes statements like this are the result of an inquiry like mine, and sometimes they flow naturally as a follow-up to the “Is this your first visit?” question. Either way, it’s a peeve on too many fronts to count, but I’ll offer a few. 1) It’s too self serving to be taken seriously even if you honestly believe it’s true. 2) Unless you’ve tried every pulled pork on the Island (and you probably haven’t), you have no basis to believe it’s true. 3) Not only did it not turn out to be the best pulled pork on Long Island, it also turned out to be one of the worst I’ve ever tasted. I know, I know, I was the one who asked, but he could have simply said, “I’d go with the pulled pork, it’s our house specialty!” (Although he should have said, “I’d go with the pulled pork, it doesn’t suck as much as our brisket!”)

“How was everything?”
I’ve often found myself in a sit-down joint where the owner makes the rounds, marching down the aisle, asking customers how everything was. In most cases, it’s apparent that this is merely an exercise, because he’s going so fast, there’s only time for a 1- or 2-syllable response before he asks the next table. “How was everything?” “Great!” “How was everything?” “Awesome!” “How was everything?” “Incredible!”

If you’re going to ask how everything was, be prepared to respond with something meaningful when a customer who’s not going alone with the routine says, “The ribs were minuscule and cold, the pulled pork was the driest I’ve ever had and this brisket I wouldn’t even feed to my dog!”

“We’re going to be opening up several of these.”
If I had a dollar for every time I heard a restaurant owner say this, I’d have enough money to buy a 64-ounce Porterhouse steak at Peter Luger. If I had a dollar for every time I heard a restaurant owner say this before he had his first house in order, I’d have enough money to buy two 64-ounce Porterhouse steaks at Peter Luger.

“I’m going to open up a barbecue restaurant that’ll put all the others to shame.”
This is one that I hear a lot, and from different camps. From competition cooks during an all-nighter at a contest. From smoker-owning friends as we leave the parking lot after yet another disappointing barbecue restaurant meal. And I’ve even said it a few times myself. The reason it’s a pet peeve is that in most cases the claim isn’t based on reality. Sure, the barbecue you cook in your back yard is great. That doesn’t mean you know how to run a restaurant, where you have to worry about missed deliveries and employee theft and turnover and food waste and customer complaints and equipment failures. It’s not easy.

Can you smell any smoke?

If you can smell the smoke, it’s a good sign. For years I lived about a block from a Burger King and the fragrance each night was amazing, but that’s not what you want to smell. I’m talking about the sweet aroma of burning fruitwoods. When Blue Ribbon (W. Newton MA) still did their smoking onsite (it’s now done at an offsite commissary under owner Geoff Janowski’s supervision), I could smell it all the way from the treadmill at the gym next door and it would cut my workout time in half. Ideally, you shouldn’t smell the smoke as far as a block away, but notice it just before you walk in the restaurant’s front door. At Goody Cole’s (Brentwood NH) and Holy Smokes (W. Hatfield MA), I don’t always notice it that much while I’m there but can pick it up on my shirt after I get home. Burning wood means smoked meat. The joint might still not get it totally right, but at least you know they’re not cooking your ribs in an oven.

Do the other diner’s plates look good?

If it’s a sit down place where the hostess leads you to your table, do some advance scouting along the way by checking out the plates at other diner’s tables. Does the brisket look dry or juicy? Are the ribs meaty or thin? Is the pulled pork served in big chunk and long strings, or overmashed? Is the ‘cue too dependent on the sauce? I’m not saying you should leave based on your observations, but they might steer you into ordering the meat they do best, or possibly a fail-safe burger. I also like to look at other diner’s plates during and after the meal, as a sanity check. There’s always the chance that I just happened to wind up with a more-meaty, less-meaty, drier or wetter rack of ribs than is the norm.

Do they only serve babybacks?

If the restaurant’s menu says they only have babyback ribs, that’s cause for concern. Babybacks are great when they’re done right, but too often they’re just a shortcut. They’re already tender, so you could get away with just grilling them, which I’ve seen too often at barbecue restaurants. The greater risk is that they’re going to be the soggy, overcooked dreck that’s commonly served at all the chain restaurants. There are exceptions, of course. Buck’s Naked (Freeport ME) only serves babybacks and Willie B’s (Bay Shore NY) started out with just babybacks, but both joints completely defied the babyback stereotype, serving smoky, well-seasoned ‘cue that’s real and good.

Does the menu emphasize breadth over depth?

Barbecue joints that are heavy on breadth and light on depth scare me. By breadth, I mean a wider than wide-ranging menu full of non-barbecue items like pastas, salads, steaks, fish and the like. I understand the need to diversify the menu—it’s almost a necessity to attract the diverse customer base that can sustain the restaurant’s profitability. But straying too far from the barbecue basics can have two effects: less attention paid to the barbecue items and slower barbecue turnover. The first effect is self-explanatory, but the slower turnover could be even more devastating. Fresh ‘cue requires a large and steady volume. Adding all those other items may be good for business, but you may be hijacking your own customers and hurting your barbecue.

By depth, I mean barbecue options. Are there different cuts of pork ribs? Do they only serve beef ribs? Rib tips? Can you get sliced brisket and chopped brisket? Do they have burnt ends? Do they go beyond the basics and offer smoked pastrami, lamb or duck? Depth is a good sign, especially if they offer something out of the ordinary. What if there’s a glaring omission, like the lack of pulled pork at Hill Country (NYC) or the missing brisket at KC’s Rib Shack (Manchester NH)? If it means they’re focusing more attention on other meats instead, that’s okay. As long as it doesn’t mean more pasta.

Is there an open kitchen?

If there’s an open kitchen or anything close to it, that’s a good sign. I’m not saying that those who don’t have one always have something to hide, but some do. If you can follow the path your meat takes, from the time it leaves the smoker (ideally) or a holding bin (the next best thing) to the cutting board to the plate, you’ve got a high probability of getting good ‘cue. Sometimes you only get to see the last few steps, like at Lester’s (Burlington MA), Big W (Wingdale NY). Other times you have to peek through a window specifically designed for the voyeur, like at Q (Port Chester NY) or RUB (NYC). I’m a big fan of the grillside table at East Coast Grill (Cambridge MA), where you can sit within arm’s reach of the warming racks of ribs and spit-cooked chickens, observing the entire operation from the fry cooks to the grill team.

Is the joint near the ocean or in a tourist area?

I haven’t had good luck with barbecue joints near the ocean or near vacation spots in general, and it’s probably not just a coincidence. Restaurants in tourist areas typically don’t depend on repeat business. They know you’re probably not coming back anyway, so why jump through hoops to impress?

Are there more than four TVs?

Some joints have a television set or two because they know there are some customers who want to check a score during a sporting event. It also gives the lone diners something to do besides stare at the other diners. Sports bars can be a lot of fun, but if there are more than four TVs, they become less of an amenity and more of the main attraction. At a good ‘cue joint, the barbecue is supposed to be the main attraction. The most notable exception is Bailey’s Smokehouse (Blauvelt NY), which would also be an exception to a “Do they serve pizza?” rule.