Big T's...Meh

If you've been following this blog you've certainly heard me rant and rave about the importance of authenticity in how I judge a barbecue establishment. While I still consider this aspect to be of consequence, certain experiences have helped me understand that there is more than one way to sauce a sandwich. Big T's, an old-fashioned, wood-floored, wood-walled, grease-filled joint, further lessened the significance that I will place on authenticity in the future.

Big T's sits on Blue Parkway which tranforms from Volker just a few miles away from the plaza. The old-looking establishment rests quiet and quaint with a set of smokers stuck outside in the parking lot. I sensed trouble as soon as I glimpsed the idle smokers, bereft of the streaming grey mist that usually accompanies such devices.

Dan Thode, who drove Logan Beets and I to Big T's on our way to the Lake of the Ozarks, explained that the smokers had been billowing when he drove by at about 8:30 the previous night on his way back to Raytown. This observation implies that Big T's meat, like many in KC, is smoked the day or night before. While this factor is not controlling, it tends to result in less smoke-flavor.

We ordered at the counter and I got a double-pulled pork on white bread, fries, beans and a piece of corn on the cob. Beets and Thode both got beef sandwiches on bun with fries. The service was slow and indifferent.

While waiting for our meals to arive at our booth, we gazed around the dimly lit dive to find posters and old newspaper mockups, mostly referencing events from the Negro Leagues. One of these discussed an event when Babe Ruth and Ty Cobb played against Negro League players. Being sports fans we were all regailed by the ancient articles. Old farm equipment also adorned the walls giving the joint an old-fashioned air.

Thode and Beets

The greasy thick-cut meat sat slathered on the bread, sauce splashed on top. The slimy, juicy pork had decent fat content, nothing disguisting but it definitely was not hidden. I like a greasy, kind of fatty, sandwich so this aspect wasn't really a problem. My beef (sorry) was with the preparation. The meat was not hot or really that warm, and it lacked much of smokey taste or really any flavor other than pork. The meat alone, was basically boring.

Beets and Thode had similar assessments about their sandwiches. "I prefer a smokier beef," Thode said simply.

Although the sandwich came with sauce Thode and I both had to return to the counter to ask for more. After I waited, being ignored by several employees, the counter attendent returned from emptying the garbage cans, and I was given a styrofoam cup full of hot, not just warm, sauce. I've never been served bbq sauce at this temperture before and it seemed the sauce might be kept hot to cover up the meat's coolness.

The thin mixed liquid was composed of a strong vinnegar base backed by pepper and tomato-something. For a second I thought I tasted ketchup, but I cannot vouch for that observation. By itself the sauce was nothing special. I've had similarly mixed sauce served superiorly all over Kansas City.

I will say though, that mixed together, the sloppy sandwich and the rigid sauce created a serviceable meal. I realized, and Beets agreed, that our sandwiches actually got better as we ate them.

"There's a good balance between the meat and the sauce, but the meat depends on the sauce," Beets explained. He added that he thought the two facets blended well.

The fries were a soft greasy substantially portioned pile of potatoes. I thought they could have used some addition, some alteration, some adaptation from a standard, although seemingly cut in house, fry, or that they could at least have been served hot. I prefer a crispier fry, but I did enjoy these, once salted and slathered in sauce.

The beans, laiden with beef, maintained a strong meat-flavor in addition to a tint of maple or brown sugar that blended well. Overall these beans were about average, but we all agreed that the beef flavor raised their bar a bit.

The small cut of a corn cob was simple, honest and served with butter. I enjoyed the cob-presentation.

Overall, I did have a good experience at Big T's, but the food really was nothing special. Big T's does have a drive-through but as Beets complained, "In my experience it takes forever."


You can get better meat, better sauce, better beans, and better fries just a bit down the road and across the street at LC's (and many other places in town). Big T's is worth stopping in if you're in the area, hungry and want the KC joint atmosphere, but you can do better.

Woodyard Bar-B-Que...The Secret is in the Smoke

The first I heard of Woodyard Bar-B-Que, located on Merriam Lane, just off Interstate 35, was from my sister who lives in Dallas because Woodyard was featured on a Food Network show. Since then I've heard the name every so often from a variety of barbecue enthusiasts.

A friend of mine, Sarah Studyvin, was visiting her sister in Fairway, and wanted to get some authentic Kansas City BBQ. Since I had to pick her up across the border anyway, I decided to take her to Woodyard and we were both blown away with the fumes that flow from Woodyard's constantly smokin' pit.

I smelled the sweetly pungent odor the second I opened my car door. On my way into the tight cottage that houses Woodyard's restaurant, I glimpsed enormous stacked piles of wood set far back from the cramped parking lot. Next to the cottage laid bags of several wood varieties. Woodyard is an actual wood yard and has been since about 1914. The restaurant was established in 1950.

Sarah and I walked up by the brick smoker which was a part of the brick patio, through a swinging screen door and into the cramped joint. Woodyard might be a bit crowded on a cold or rainy day as only a few tables sat inside, but outside stood a few picnic tables and numerous sets of patio furniture.

I ordered a pulled pork sandwich and got the two side option, fries and cheesy corn, for a total of $7.25. Yes, an entire meal for $7.25. I also got the beans, a single rib and a soda to put my total just about $13.00. I thought that selling single ribs was genius, because it allowed everyone to at least try a rib in case someone isn’t up to eating the full or even the half slab. I thought the option considered their customers cravings and marketed their product brilliantly. Both baby back and spare ribs were available. I got a spare rib because it has more meat. Sarah ordered the burnt end sandwich with fries, cheesy corn and a soda.

The view from our table

We sat at a picnic table outside, caught up and enjoyed the lovely day, sensing the smoke-filled air. A fan blew next to us, keeping people cool and the smoke blowing from the old smoker into the air and away from the patio. Our food was delivered, to our delight, with reasonable speed.

My sandwich, crafted to seemingly specific, precise proportions and grounded in a long hoagie bun, sat next to the wedge fries and two reasonably sized cups which held the corn and beans. I thought the hoagie bun was a nice touch because it allowed more meat than an average hamburger bun and created structural integrity.

Wood for sale

The shredded pork swelled with sweet smokiness, and small diced onions, which had either been sautéed or smoked with the meat, hid amongst the shreds. I thought that the onions provided a particularly creative and tasty touch separating Woodyard’s pork sandwich from any I have ever eaten.

 I could not find any gristle or fat in the juicy, but not dripping, shreds. The pork held a certain sturdiness, gained from extensive smoking that recoiled before it reached the level of toughness, an attribute I admire when the meat can maintain such a level of juiciness. The pork reached a level of smoke-potency that I have rarely tasted. I think that using the sweet woods, like pecan, as Woodyard does, allows the smoke flavor more prevalence without dominating the sandwich. I didn’t need bread. I didn’t need sauce. I didn’t need fries, cheesy corn or beans. I think I have found my new favorite meat.

The rib meat, cocooned, in a crispy, burnt-with-intention crust dropped from the bone in my fingers. The tender, juicy flesh held, ingrained in every molecule, a well-smoked spectacle. This meat too required no sauce, but I added some any way just to try it out.

The burnt end sandwich grasped the sweet smoke in the same manner. The ends lightly-burnt-crust exterior refrained from overtaking the beef, allowing the insides to remain tender, juicy and flavorful.

Woodyard had two sauces, Original and Spicy. The Original, composed from a strong vinegar base, was accompanied by a soft tang and a slight subtle sweetness that restrained the vinegar, which kept it under control. Although the more strident, more dedicated vinegar taste lingered shortly in my mouth.

The Spicy version was similar, but had a stronger tang, followed by a hot jab, potentially from chili powder or cayenne, to the taste buds, although the sauce kept control, powerful but not overpowering, in your face but not abrasive. I wouldn’t say these were my favorite sauces by any means, as I like a sweeter blend, but they were solid and complimented the meat perfectly. A sweeter sauce might have gotten control of the meal, but here, the smoke-infused meat is the star.

The sides backed the sandwich appropriately. The cheesy corn was composed of crisp fresh corn and a thin cream mixed with thyme and chunks of ham, conceiving a smooth balance of taste. I’m not much of a ham fan but I thought this meat added a special saltiness to the side. And, while most places emphasize their cheese, Woodyard emphasizes their fresh corn and I truly enjoyed their take on this local favorite.

The beans held a substantial beef flavor, which emanated from the chunks of beef that waded in the thick blend which was partly composed of diced onions and paprika. We also tasted a sampling of power, maybe chili powder or cayenne pepper that gave the beans a little something extra.

The crispy wedge fries, cut from real potatoes as shown by the skin on their bottoms, supplemented the pork perfectly. The thick wedges had been dashed with pepper, and tiny red specs of cayenne, providing the potato meat with full flavor.

As we left I talked a bit to Mark O’Bryan, the expert smoker. O’Bryan, a cousin of Woodyard’s owners, explained that Woodyard used a lot of pecan wood, and also white oak with some hickory. O’Bryan explained that even though using hickory chips is considered dogma around Kansas City, that he thought it often left the meat a little bitter.

“Pecan is idiot proof,” O’Bryan explained. “I say idiot proof because I have good results with it,” he chuckled.

Smoke pouring out after
O'Bryan opened the grill

I don’t think the atmosphere at Woodyard can be beat. “That’s what a barbecue place should be, that you can see the meat being cooked,” Studyvin explained. There was something special about sitting outdoors on a picnic table with the brick smoker, only 15 feet or so from our table, connected with the brick patio. They patio, the smoker and us were one, creating an acutely homey feel.

And, as far as sandwiches, meat and sides go, Woodyard has moved up towards the top of my list. It might be a little out of the way unless you’re already on I35, but the trip is worth it. I promise.

O'Bryan encouraged me to get closeups of the meat. The resulting photo shoot is below.

Auxiliary Benefits of my Barbecue Quest

Over the last few weeks I've forced myself, with the help of several friends, into a barbecue boot camp. I realized that my time in Kansas City is coming to a close and I wasted too much time not eating the incredible variety of barbecue that this city has to offer. So, I've been sprinting, making up time to try as many restaurants, dives and joints as possible. Still, by the time I leave at the end of July I will only have visited a fraction of those that KC has to offer.

This saddens me because I spent three years here, and probably could have tried every pulled pork sandwich in the metropolitan area. It may sound silly, but I'll regret this omission for a long time. Still, I've learned in my quest for the best BBQ sandwich, and not just about meat and sauce.

Since I started this blog I've developed a more finely-tuned sense of taste. I take my time eating now where before I'd often rush through a meal. I pay more attention to my food's details, the spices, the preparation, the fat-content, the cost-to-portion proportion. I enjoy eating in a different way than I ever have.

This quest has influenced me at a more personal level too. I often become stagnant in the establishments I frequent, like many people do. Now I'm more inclined to try a new restaurant, to go out of my way, just because I've never eaten there before. And I guess this idea has expanded my mind a little. Maybe I sound like I'm exaggerating but really, forcing myself to try new BBQ has adapted my mind, switched it to a different mode, to a more curious, more adventurous channel.

Still, like anyone else I have my favorite establishments, my Cheers and my personal habits. But, because of this effort, the quest for variety of all kinds has become ingrained in me, soaked, infused in every morsel like well-smoked meat.

I appreciate that anyone reads this and I hope that some randoms stumble upon it. If just one tourist goes to a BBQ joint other than Jack Stack or Gates, I have made the world a better place.

P.S. I have reviews for Woodyard Bar-B-Que and Smokin' Guns BBQ coming up. They are written but my phone is taking an unfortunately long time to send the pictures to my g-mail.

Greedy Man's BBQ & Grill...A True Up-and-Comer

We're back in class for Missouri Bar preparation and after a half week I needed a BBQ injection. I spent three hours trying to concentrate on Federal Civil Procedure when all I wanted to do was get out of the classroom and fill my gluttonous gut with meat and sauce.

A friend, Mike Carrey sat next to me in class and suggested we drive down Volker, take a right on Troost and stop by Greedy Man's BBQ & Grill. We pulled around to park after spying an older man standing on the side of the road with sign beckoning us into Greedy Man's.

I scoured the menu, which was posted across the bottom of the counter, to find no pork sandwich, much to my chagrine. In addition to BBQ, the menu had several sandwich options including multiple versions of a KC style Philly, whatever that means (I should have asked. My bad.) a variety of burgers, including a turkey version, chicken wings with different kinds of sauce, fried fish and shrimp and a standard helping of sides.

I ordered the Big BBQ Beef sandwich, the closest item to my control group, with fries. Mike ordered the Smoked Turkey with Macaroni Salad because they were out of Potato Salad, although they were working on a fresh batch.

I'd like to acknowledge that Greedy Man's prices were among the best I've seen in KC. My meal was $8.00 and Mike's was only $6.50.

The wait was a bit longer than most BBQ joints but usually a medium length wait is a good sign. Too short, and the food is ready before you get there. Too long, and you're just annoyed.

The walls were laiden with records, jazz pictures, guitars and horns and of course press clippings. I walked around taking pictures and read some of the clippings to get a bit of Greedy Man's backstory.

Greedy Man's, owned by Steven Dawkins who had dreamt of owning his own restaurant, is a small, tight hole in a string of buildings with only a handful of tables. The establishment grew from Greedy Man's Lunch Box, a lunch truck that Dawkins used to operate. Dawkins also has a barber's license and is a part-owner of a barber shop.

The young man at the counter, who was friendly and helpful, inquired why I was taking pictures. He said he thought I was scouting to start up a business. I explained my purpose and he asked us several times if everything was cool. It was. Mike said the last time he was there that Dawkins was around and was just as friendly.

While waiting I noticed that there was a drink called Watermelon Woodland. Mike mentioned that last time he was here he found out they make their own soda. When I inquired at the counter to procure one of these unique beverages I was informed they were out. He instead offered me a small cup to taste the Kansas City Peach Tea, which I ended up ordering. The tea was sweet without seeming sugary. I'm not much of a tea drinker so I don't have much to compare it to but I can say I liked it.

An older couple was waiting at the next table and got their food to go which seems to be common there as our food was handed to us across the counter in plain brown bags that held our meals in taped shut styrofoam containers.

I unwrapped my meal to find a reasonable portion for the price I paid. Not what I'd call an abundance but certainly not scant. Actually, the meal seemed appropriate for lunch; there was enough to fill me up but not enough to knock me out as tends to happen at many BBQ establishments.


The sliced chunks of beef came on a plain white bun and the sandwich was simply tasty. The meat had a little fat that I only really noticed because I was examining it closely. Both meals had the character of food that we would have ordered outside at a carnival, concert or festival, meaning a solid combination of price, fuel, texture and taste.

I wouldn't say the meal blew me away but I thoroughly enjoyed it. The rub had a chili powder punch with an unstated strength that refused to overpower the background flavors. Once again, I want to say paprika was involved but I can't really be sure.

A sweet sauce, Baby Ray's I found out later, was spread more than sparingly across the bun. It wasn't quite dripping, but, as the worker at the counter explained, this sandwich was meant for you to taste the rub. The sauce was there for accompaniment, a bass keeping the beat for a lead guitar.

Mike offered me a bite of his sandwich so I had him pull me off a few pieces of the thinly sliced turkey. They turkey rub kicked me across the mouth with a cajun class, but only enough to wake me up. This sandwich too was backed by a simply sweet savory sauce. Greedy Man seems to have found an even medium between spiciness and sweetness. Both sandwiches straddled that line expertly.

I've gotta say the fries could have been prepared better. They tasted as if they had been fried, allowed to sit and then refried after I ordered, which was disappointing. They were mostly crispy, pretty thick and clearly handcut. I think they were covered in the same rub as the beef although they might have had a bit more chili powder, which lingered lightly until I sipped some more peach tea. I thought the cut and spicing were about perfect and I think if I had gotten fresh fries I would have fallen in love.

Mike said the Macaroni Salad was creamy with a that chili powder kick that seems to be a running theme at Greedy Man's. I tasted it and thought it was solid, but I don't really order that side regularly so I have little to compare it to. Mike pointed out that it had a fresher taste than he often finds in such cream-based cold side salads.

Taken as a whole Greedy Man's reminds me of an article I read at Rosedale BBQ about their own restaurant's pedigree. Rosedale and many KC joints started as lunch spots to feed hungry workers a full filling meal at a reasonable price. Greedy Man's is opening new locations according to its website and the business seems to be in an evolutionary stage. I thought it was cool to see a KC joint on its way up, starting from humble roots as other establishments have in the past. You should definitely check this place out. I plan on going back myself to try the chicken wings as Hampton Williams tells me they are outstanding.

Gates Bar-B-Q...ALERT: TOURIST TRAP

This is another makeup but I've been there a few times and it left such a horrid taste in my mouth that I could never forget the insult.

I've been to the Gates on Main and the one on Emanuel Cleaver Blvd. Most of this post will be in reference to the recent trip on Main, but I'll tell  you I had just as an unfortunate of an experience the first time.

"Go to Gates," all the locals say. "It's the best," they add. "The sauce is the best," they insist. They're either lying or just wrong. Gates Bar-B-Q IS marketing. The name is plastered everywhere around the restaurant. "Gates." "Gates." "Gates." And then there's that huge picture of the gentelman with the top hat strolling down the street. He's everywhere too.

I walked in to the dim establishment and to my right was that strolling man with the top hat who I had just seen on the wall outside. The counter was set up for efficiency with two lanes going in opposite directions which I imagine is necessary for the lunch time rush since people continue to patronize this place for some reason. Each time I went a steadyish stream of costumers strolled in and out, although the place was not close to full either time and there wasn't really a line. If you ask most locals they'll tell you that Gates is the place to go. It's just not.

"Go for the experience," they say. "No, they're rude on purpose. That's part of the deal," they explain. Well, if you've been ripped off before, you've had the experience.

When you walk in they greet you with a grim, "How may I help you," everytime, but they say it more like "Hey, go screw yourself." I stood back from the line, of which I was the entirety, and perused the menu. The woman at the counter rudely repeated, "May I help you," several times while I tried to decide what I wanted "But you always get pulled pork and fries," you may say. So what? I was trying to see if they had an delicacies such as cheesey corn or something I hadn't heard of. So don't rush me, I might spend more money.

Behind the counter were rows of various Gates sauces for purchase underneath the signs that advertised Gates catering that hung from the ceiling. Oh, and in case you were wondering Gates gift certificates are available. Did I mention they cater? GATES GATES GATES.

The meal came promptly. The sauce, napkins, water and soda were all self serve at a single station in the middle of the several separate dining areas. Nothing was on my table, except for salt, pepper which I'd need for the bland french fries, and an advertisement for Gates catering.

The luke warm pork was held together by three pieces of plain sliced white bread. The plain naked meat wasn't quite cold but it was getton its way and it had clearly been sitting out for a while. It was dry, stiff and thin, but not terrible when compared only to itself. The middle piece of bread, adding which can be a common method of BBQ sandwich architecture, seemed unnecessary here. There was not enough meat to merit the extra foundation. It seemed the slice was just there to make the sandwich look bigger.

Gates had three sauces available in squirter topped tubs, Classic, Spicy and Sweet and Mild. Honestly, I could barely tell the difference between the Classic and Spicy. The main difference between the two was how long the terrible taste hung in my mouth. They were both spicy, one was just a little more so. If I had to pick the worst sauce I've encountered in Kansas City it'd be these from Gates. These thin sauces were simply abrasive. I will add that I've had Gates purchased from a bottle and it tastes a lot better and I don't know why.

Now, you may be thinking that I just don't like spicy flavors. Well, that's not true, I do. This sauce just seemed to burn for the sole sake of burning and with that I have a problem. No balance, no cohesion, no creativity, just a single slug in the jaw. And not in a good way. I tasted an abundance of pepper and obviously paprika. The Sweet and Mild, which was aptly named, wasn't too bad though. It still had a little kick but had an tanginess to it. All three sauces had a lingering smokey flavor while the meat didn't  meaning Gates uses liquid smoke, the fool's gold of  BBQ.

The steak fries, which came in a substantial portion, were just an embarrassment to side dishes everywhere. They were thick, flat and prepared perfectly crispy, but they were not spiced at all. I had to douse them in salt to continue eating. Even worse, I could have gone to Sam's, picked up a bag and fried them at home myself. How do I know they came from a bag? I COULD TASTE THE FROZEN!!! C'mon Gates, that is just unacceptable.

If you ask many locals, who have grown up being brainwashed into the Gates system, then they'll likely tell you it's a must visit. It simply isn't. Gates seem to have been living off of its good name for some time now. I'd like to have tried it before it became a chain, switched its concentration to advertising and gave up on serving a quality meal. The service was lousy, the food was crummy and I left unsatisfied. Don't waste your time. Don't waste your money. Don't go to Gates Bar-B-Q no matter how many times you hear the name repeated. GATES GATES GATES.

Danny Edwards BLVD BBQ...A personal touch

This piece is a little late but I got caught up in finishing finals and graduating so I hope you don't mind if the tastes are a little stale. Don’t worry, I took good notes.

After our Secured Transactions final Jess Langford and I headed down to ol’ Southwest Boulevard to sample one of Jess' favorite joints. Unfortunately this was the same day Joe Biden was in town and we got sidetracked, twisted and turned around, unable to make a left from Southwest Trafficway.

Anyway, I sat in the cramped parking waiting for Jess. Behind me was a partially brick building with barred windows, a neon sign blaring Danny Edwards BLVD BBQ and a garage-like-sliding door which could be opened weather-permitting.

With a whetted appetite we walked in about 1 pm to a mostly full, but not quite crowded eatery. We didn’t have to wait in line at all to order at the counter. I got the pulled pork and fries as usual even though Jess, who is normally a pork eater like me, insisted I order the brisket.

As we walked to our table Jess pointed to Danny Edwards who was behind the counter personally slicing our meat to order. “Now how do you know that?,” I asked. “I saw a documentary on one of the public access channel a few weeks ago,” he replied. “Good to know.”

While waiting hungrily, my eyes toured the room which had one brick wall. The rest plaster and covered with black and white photos. The photos showed old BBQ joints and Kansas City Sites. On the wall opposite the counter, Edwards’ many news clippings and awards were displayed.

After a short wait our food was brought to our table which was covered by a red and white checkered picnic tablecloth, a single style of sauce and specifically no ketchup. I’d like to comment on the server who held a solid grin the entire time we were in the building and who kept our glasses full of water. If you want soda there is a fountain on the side of the room for your convenience.

When we asked for ketchup for our fries she brought us a small cup each which led me to a new tenet for finding quality barbeque: whether or not they have ketchup on the table. If the table is ketchupless then the owners or managers hold their sauce in particularly high esteem.

There was no room spared on my plate. The entire surface was covered with fries, a standard warm white bun and overflowing shredded pork. As Jess said, “If you order a large and it fits on the bun then it’s not a large.” Well put. The pork itself was good, had a paprika based rub, a little juice, but was a little dry too.

Jess let me try the brisket that he had been raving about and I get why he orders it over the pork. The beef was juicy, cut thick and tender, loose and falling apart on the plate. If you’re going to Danny Edwards, get the brisket.

I slathered my delightfully sloppy sandwich and noticed the speckles of complexity in the sauce which was about as original of a sauce as I’ve had in KC. It had a serious kick, which Jess guessed was Chinese Five-Spice. The kick was backed by some sort of sweetness. The thick nectar blended serenely with the flavored pork in a creative balance. Hampton Williams, who arrived about the time we were finishing up, said that the sauce reminded him of a Texan sauce he had tried. Hampton took Jess’ advice and ordered the brisket and was not disappointed. Jess claims it’s the best sauce in KC. I disagree but I am fond of its uniqueness.

The fries were hand-cut, fresh, simply and softly spiced and arrived in abundance. One indication, here, that fries are hand-cut is when their lengths are inconsistent. I think they might have been lathered in the paprika meat rub which continued to blend well with the sauce. They were pretty thick and had plenty of potato-meat. Some were a little soggy but others were quite crispy. I would have preferred a more consistent crispiness, but enjoyed them thoroughly.

While we ate we noticed several employees, starting with Danny himself, take a break in the back. Danny’s plate was covered in a variety of meats. It’s always a good sign to see the owner and employees all eating the food they made.

Something to note is that Edwards offers a Southern Style sandwich option which means that the meat is covered in coleslaw. I’ve never been a coleslaw lover, but you might like it. Edwards also offers “Authentic Mexican Chili,” which makes sense as it is located on Boulevard, which boasts a congregation of Kansas City Mexican restaurants.

If you’re going to try Danny Edwards BLVD BBQ make sure you go during lunch because that is the only meal for which it is open. I implore you to find some time during your lunch break or on a Saturday afternoon to make your way down to this gem on the Boulevard.

Wabash BBQ...This is what I'm talking about

We we passed a mass of wood piled outside a small red building. Smoke poured out of the little shack with consistent fervor. We had driven about an hour from UMKC's campus on a tip from Dan Thode's boss that Wabash BBQ in Excelsior Springs has the best ribs in Kansas City, a claim we’ve heard before. Hampton Williams was only too happy to join.

Wabash, open since 1997, is located in an old Wabash Railroad depot and the restaurant follows the theme with menu sections like “Conductor’s Favorites,” and “Engineers Entrees.”

Wabash is everything I dream of when I imagine old fashioned authentic barbeque and the menu’s slogan explains why: “Always Smokin’ Something Good.” I don’t think this is puffery.

While we waited in the bar, a tobacco smoking area, for our meal we watched several aluminum trays each topped with aluminum foil and filled with piled meat pass by us from the smoke shack, a separate building, on their way to the kitchen. There are two smoke-free dining areas on either side of the kitchen.

The plain plaster walls were laden with railroad and music memorabilia. Wabash has live music regularly and has a stage set up out back called the Blues Garden. Next time I return I’ll be staying for a show.

Between the three of us we ordered two baskets of Sweet Corn Nuggets from “All Aboard.” The nuggets were crispy on the outside and had the consistency of sweet cream corn on the inside. They were simple, rich and tasty but nothing particularly special. We should have only ordered one basket because the portions were ample. The nuggets were served with ranch that was creamy and lacked the tartness I’ve noticed in many ranches. We theorized that it might be homemade.

Thode and Williams both ordered Short End Rib Dinners which each came with two of Wabash’s Signals and Switches, or sides. They both got beans and fries.

Williams willingly relinquished one of his ribs, and I have to tell you it made me for the first time question my control group. The meat was a little tough, although I thought, in a nice way. The juice gushed in my mouth and the meat fell apart at a touch from my teeth. The cartilage was almost edible after wading in its own juices for so long. Each bite released sweet soft smoky flavor. The meat quality was a little fatty but in a good way, and I’m usually of the school that cuts off the fat and throws it to the dogs. I ripped it apart and gobbled it down.

I have no idea how long this meat had been smoking but compared to what I’ve tasted elsewhere, Wabash just might always be smokin’.

Williams said that part of his slab was a little overcooked for his taste and that that end was a bit burned. However, Williams explained, “I don’t think I got the best ribs they ever served, but I see how this at its best would be the best. That beings said, when my father is in town, I’ll bring him here,” a particularly lofty compliment coming from Williams.

Conductor’s Favorites provided an excellent variety of sandwich options. Brisket, ham, turkey, sliced pork and pulled pork were all available in denominations of a quarter-pound, third-of-a-pound, half-pound and 12 ounces, which is an attribute of which I am rather fond.

The Wabash, the 12 ounces of pulled pork that I ordered, came on a hoagie which had been heated or maybe lightly toasted. I know from seeing inside the kitchen it came from a bag, which is not a problem considering most of my favorite joints just give you a few slices of bread.

The hoagie was soft, fluffy and warm and coated with some kind of film. I wondered aloud if it could have been buttered, and Williams noted that it was likely just juice from the meat they were handling. Cue the Homer Simpson gluttony groan.

The meat spread, spilled all over the plate creating a mad mass, a manly mess. The bottom piece of the hoagie had been soaked with juice, but not enough to tear it apart thus the integrity of sandwich was maintained.

The Wabash immediately became one of my favorite sandwiches. The pork was a bit rough and tight yet juicy and almost damp. I loved the dichotomy of meat which had been cooked into slight toughness maintaining so much gravy. And, in every bite I tasted a hint of hickory and more than a splash of smooth smoke.

You may be surprised that I’ve waited so long to talk about the sauce. Well, that’s because the meat was that damn good. The sandwich did not initially come with any sauce on it as the meat stood on its own four amputated legs.

However, the sauce sat conveniently on the table in a squeeze bottle. I plopped some on my plate and slathered more on my sandwich. Wabash’s sauce was an original, something I have yet to taste in my culinary travels. The clearly molasses base birthed a rich, sweet sauce, that had about the consistency of thick syrup.  

While this sandwich may have had one of the lesser sauce to meat ratios that I’ve ever eaten on purpose, I loved the sauce, I adore it. The sauce and the sandwich truly worked as a team, complementing each other’s strengths, blending into each other’s tastes. To make sure I got enough of the sauce, I dipped my fries in it, which brings me to my next point.

The standard wedge fries from a frozen package were disappointing. They weren’t bad by any means but they could have been crispy. They seemed like maybe they had been dressed and waiting for the rest of the party, then got tired.

While I don’t blame a restaurant for the occasional preparation lapse, I encourage Wabash’s owners to cut their own potatoes. This delightful meat deserves a little more respect in the form of a properly prepared potato sidekick. But, they have been successful enough to open up another store in Chillicothe so I guess they don’t need my advice.

I tasted some of the baked beans which were standard, simple and tangy.  With only plain navy beans and no meat, this side seemed to be kind of a throwaway compared to other aspects of the restaurant.

The service was excellent. My water glass was almost never empty and when the woman working in the office, who I presume to be an owner, saw that the lunch crowd was picking up she refilled our drinks and asked if we needed anything else.

Go to Wabash BBQ. Go out of your way or find a way to make it on your way, but go to Wabash BBQ.