Perry Foster's Bar-B-Q..."Down home delicious" as advertised

On Tuesday Barbri was so kind so as to give us an extra day off from bar prep. for Memorial Day weekend. Mike Carey, a fellow law school graduate, and Sarah Carey had been raving about Perry Foster's Bar-B-Q in Warrensburg, near where they live. Hampton and I decided to take the extra day to visit the Carey's and Perry Foster's.

We left from the Plaza and drove on 70 to Warrensburg which took us a bit over an hour. The drive back on 50 took right at an hour. We parked at the Carey's and jumped into Sarah's car. We took a short drive down Mo-13. The first sign of Perry Foster's was a gigantic woodpile that sat out front, an omen if I've every seen one. Then I saw the smoke and the sign on top of the old dilapidated building. Window paint proclaimed that the joint is open until 3 a.m. Thursday - Saturday.

I should add that the building doesn't say Perry Foster's anywhere on it. In fact, next to the giant BAR-B-Q sign the name seems to be scratched out. A piece of wood hung, below the BAR-B-Q sign, on which was carved "Open 365 days a year." Mike said that what the sign really means is that it is open 365 days a year if not closed due to health code violations. Some may be turned off by such a statement but Hampton and I agreed that such violations are usually for some reason a sign of quality BBQ. Cockroaches don't bother us I guess.

We parked and walked inside to find the place completely empty but for an older woman at the counter. She greeted us with a friendly smile and took our orders with an easygoing manner. I ordered a pork sandwich, fries, beans and a bottle of Sunkist Orange Soda which came to a total of $20.98. She didn't have change so she willingly charged me an even $20.

Mike tried to order a turkey sandwich but they were out. Perry apologized from behind the counter. When Hampton asked for beef ribs, the woman asked Perry if they had any. They did.

The wait was slightly longer than many joints but much shorter than a restaurant. The table just had napkins, salt and pepper and some informational advertisements that identified Foster's as Georgia style bar-b-q. A bottle of Foster's sauce and some ketchup was brought to the table.

The room was open and had several four-person tables and two tables for larger groups, one round and one rectangle. The walls were hung with pictures of several celebreties, in particular many signed pictures of Hank Williams Jr. Hank 2 hung all over the place with Kid Rock and Perry Foster himself. Derrick Thomas and other Chiefs appropriated their own corner of the restaurant, near the box televisions. I walked around the joint and found pictures signed by Willie Nelson, a Penthouse covergirl, a Ms. Nude World and several r & b singers of which I had never heard, although I don't often listen to the genre.



My team

The woman from the counter, who I presumed to be Mrs. Foster brought a meat-laiden tray to our table. I recalled that the menu sign proclaimed a double meat sandwich and I wished I had ordered the double. That is until my food arrived.

The mound of sliced pork protruded with beautiful sloppiness from a plain white bun. The luscious sauce-soaked meat slipped and slid all over my plate, sloppy and dripping with a variety of succulent liquids. I've always been one to order the large or the double but that act is pointless at Foster's. The Carey's, who each got their own pork sandwich, took home an entire sandwich's worth home between the two of them.

I bit and the pork inundated my mouth, a flood of juice and grease. The meat, definitely not of the highest quality, fulfilled its down-home moniker. The pork, prepared without rub, presented a full smoke-flavor that mixed perfectly with the sauce.

Hampton let me try one of his long, thick beef ribs. The meat and bone, caked in crispiness, retained even more smoke flavor than the pork, although less juice remained. The rib, a little tough and dry, had charred tips which means, as Hampton explained, that the meat was cooked right. (I'll get back to you sometime on the details.) Hampton had another rib leftover which the Careys and I sampled with sauce. The sauce completely turned the dryness around.

With my mound of meat I received a fountain of fries, enough for Hampton to share a few handfulls. (For those of you who don't know I rarely share my french fries with anybody so this alone is a testament to the abudance I received.) The hand-cut fries were about average length and thickness. We knew the simple, salted fries were hand cut because the tips still had the skin on them which is always a good sign. There was a subtle spice in addition to salt that we couldn't pin down, but the simple crispy-fried-brown potatoes, that left our fingers greasy, were as Sarah put it "made for the bbq sauce."

Sarah's statement sums up Perry Foster's as a whole. Everything we ordered, but for the beans, was made as a method to inhale the sauce, a delicious molasses blend. The slow thick syrup dominated the meal, with a smooth soothing sweetness, balanced with an understated tang. Both meat and fries were made to be smothered in it, to be doused, engulfed and sunk in the wonderful nectar.

The standard navy beans came in a styrofoam cup and included chunks of pork. They were pretty average other than a tiny spec of spiciness. Unless you're a true bean lover, I wouldn't suggest ordering them.

I left Perry Foster's Bar-B-Q with sticky hands, a sticky mouth and a full, but not quite protruding belly. Foster', although relatively costly, especially when gas is considered, can be economical if you share the sandwich or at least the fries. Splitting would not be a problem for most pairs. I must say, though, that I got what I paid for, a sensational stack of sauce-covered meat. If you're a sauce lover you should find a way to put Perry Foster's in your path. If not I would still suggest stopping by any time you're rolling down Mo-13, 50 or if you happen to be in Warrensburg catching a Mules game.