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.

Barbeque Criteria

As I explained in the last post the point of this blog is to guide Kansas Citians and especially their visitors to the best BBQ establishment possible. I should have made this clearer when I started the blog, but then again, maybe I was still figuring it out.

When I'm in any city for a limited time, I want to get their best and I can come back for the rest. When I was in New York, I made an effort to find dining experiences that I couldn't get in Kansas City or anywhere else.

The goal of this blog is to guide visitors, and locals who should know anyway, to the best BBQ experience as possible. The best portrayal of any food style begins at authenticity so I aim to lead you in that direction.

I have researched Kansas City BBQ thoroughly, through practice in particular, but also through reading history and articles I found online. The base of Kansas City BBQ is slow-cooked meat, the kind of preparation that takes hours and in a few cases days, and sauce, lots of sauce.

Smoking the meat over a variety of woods will leave the meat with a special flavor that you just can't get with instant smoke spice. If you're wondering whether or not an establishment smokes their meat, look for a smokestack, but also try tasting the sauce and meat separately.

After the meat is smoked, it is lathered in and sometimes soaked in SAUCE. As I've mentioned before I love sauce so this category is particularly important to me. Kansas City sauce is usually tomato- or molasses-based and usually has a healthy portion of paprika.

I love KC style sauce, but I appreciate when an establishment wanders off the beaten path. I'm not looking for any kind of sauce in particular as variety is in fact the spice of life. While I know I won't like every kind, I'll try to give a fair description of it in general and will try to attend each restaurant with someone else in case our tastes happen to differ.

The meat doesn't need to be covered in sauce when I get it. I accept that not everyone wants their meat drenched in thick liquid, but the establishment should have their sauce readily available for over-consumption and on the table is preferable.

The meat doesn't have to be top grade if you prepare it well enough. Although no one wants to eat low-grade Subway-like meat or SoyBQ. If SoyBq exists, gross. If it doesn't, don't get any ideas. I find that the best pulled pork meat has a little bit of fatiness to it, which gives it an extra shot of succulence.

I find that sides can often make or break a dining experience. They way I see it, if an establishment makes the best sandwhich or ribs, then places crinkle cut fries from a frozen bag next to it, they are disrespecting their own dish. While the main course should be able to stand alone, even Batman needed Robin. For example, I like crispy homeade fries, or french fried potatoes I should say. I like to taste the potato's "meat," not just the oil or fat in which it was fried.

While taste is the most important part, atmosphere can be alluring. In general I like a restaurant with its own thing going on. BBQ joints are often divey and may seem a little dirty. BBQ is one genre, though, where these descriptions are a bonus.

Service is relevant, but again if the food is good, I really don't care if you treat me like crap, at least when it comes to BBQ. I'm not sure why I make this distinction, but I do.

I hope this post gives a little better guide as to how I have been/will be judging each BBQ establishment I've been to. Thanks for reading.

Fiorella's Jack Stack...addendum

After receiving several complaints on my facebook wall about my last post, I realized I was unclear as to my full opinion about Fiorella's Jack Stack Barbeque.

Due to the abundant positive press and exaggerated word-of-mouth good will that I regularly hear about Jack Stack, I went a little Fox News and overcorrected. Because I believe that Jack Stack is overrated, I took the more negative approach to even things out. But that wasn't fair, and that wasn't balanced.

I do not retract anything I stated in the previous post. I believe that Jack Stack is a poor impression of Kansas City barbeque. However, I did not intend to imply that you should never eat at Jack Stack. It would never be my idea to go there, but if that is where the rest of a group wanted to go, I would definitely be willing. In fact, this last trip I invited myself along.

However, if you have never had KC barbeque Jack Stack is not the place to start.

About a month ago a friend's acquaintances visited him from England. They were in Kansas City for less than a week and their chances of returning are slim. They were taken to one barbeque establishment and it was Jack Stack. This error is the kind that I'm trying to prevent.

While Jack Stack does have great meat, all-around solid sides and splendid service, the restaurant is not an accurate depiction of historic Kansas City barbeque. It is an adaptation. I tried to make the point that Jack Stack is not authentic Kansas City barbeque and that's my problem with it. That and the bland sauce and lack of smoky taste, but these issues are directly related.

Some friends argued that Jack Stack is original or unique and that I should judge it differently. This may be a fair point if Jack Stack was original or unique. While it may be different from every othe barbeque establishment in Kansas City, it is far from unique. Jack Stack is simply another representation of most other restaurants on the Plaza and I judge it by no standards but my own.

This leads me to believe I have also been unclear as to how I am/have been judging each establishment, and I'll get another post out about that after I finish this huge paper due in my Business Planning class.

In general though I have been/will be judging on authenticity, SAUCE, meat (preparation and quality), sides and service although if the food is good enough I'm indifferent to service.

I hope this has cleared things up. Thank you for reading and please continue to comment and complain. I encourage you to comment or complain on the blog itself and not on facebook. Also, I encourage you not to call me an idiot for having an opinion.

Special thanks to Nolan Lawrence for reading the post in front of me and explaining how it came off so that I could give a fairer assessment.

Fiorella's Jack Stack...Soulless Corporate Barbeque

This weekend I went with a group of friends to Fiorella’s Jack Stack Barbeque on the Plaza. Before I walked in the door I could tell Jack Stack was not a standard Kansas City barbeque joint. Jack Stack is located on the Plaza in a white brick building with maroon awnings above the entryways. A simple red neon sign and bull statue lead you inside. The restaurant had no chimney from which smoke could billow, a bad sign.

When I walked through the door I did not enter a bbq joint, but a restaurant, an eating establishment with ostentatious chandeliers darned with fake electric candles. The walls in the foyer were brick and the floor was wooden. Right in front stood a large dark glazed wooden bar with a variety of bottles for mixing cocktails. The staff was polite as I told them I’d wait to be seated until my dining companions arrived. Yes, in Jack Stack they are dining companions.

Jack Stack represents most of the Plaza. Fake and fancy, an attempt to allow Kansas City’s ruling class a chance to eat “smoked” meat without having to leave the comfy confines of their Plaza. Jack Stack completely misses the point of what I’ve come to love about Kansas City barbeque. I mean, there’s a wine list for Pete’s sake. C’mon, man!

We sat in a dark red leather booth that wasn’t even ripped or torn once. The lights were dimly lit. Silverware lay on the table; yes the silverware was metal, rolled up tightly in maroon cloth napkins, no dispenser or roll of paper towels to wipe up gratuitous sauce. Against the wall, which separated us from the other customers, sat a shaker of KC All Purpose Rub, a salt shaker and a tall black pepper grinder. No sauce. You know how I feel about sauce.

My friends explained that Jack Stack is the place you take a date or client if you want to make a good impression but still eat bbq. Not my dates. Not my clients. Okay, maybe my clients, but if my date would prefer the soulless corporate experience of Jack Stack over one of the many old fashioned holes in the wall, I won’t be taking her out again.

The walls in the dining room were paneled with dark wood, halfway up switching to a soft dark yellow. Paintings and metal cow sculptures hang on the walls. Funny, I didn’t see any of the awards or newspaper articles that I have found at bbq dives like LC’s, Smoking Guns and Oklahoma Joe’s.

The restaurant was busy, even at 2 pm and filled with families, couples and groups, but not full to the point where we had to wait for a table. Each waiter wore black shoes, black slacks, a black apron and a black shirt.

The server was patient and polite while three of us waited for our fourth to arrive. The menus were oversized but extensive. Oh, and of course expensive. At least expensive compared to the portion size, although maybe I would have been more pleased had I gotten the combo special, but alas I have a control group to maintain.

I ordered the pulled pork as usual with a side of fries and got an order of cheese corn bake to go with it. The food arrived promptly and I immediately saw a difference between Jack Stack and most KC bbq joints. To start with, it was served on a glass plate. I was immediately disappointed by the portion, although you might not have been. I’m a glutton or else I guess I wouldn’t be blogging about bbq.

The sliced meat was served on a warm, fluffy French roll that had been cut in half. Between bread and meat was a plethora of lettuce, a few tomatoes and a pile of pickles. I despise pickles but this might be a plus for you. My fry portion was insufficient and the cup of cheese corn bake was small, but I ordered a small so I guess that makes sense.

What looked to be a manager in slacks, collared shirt in tie, brought the food to our table. A tie, at a barbeque restaurant you may ask? “Silly, pretentious and out of the barbecue’s character,” I answer. He asked us if we wanted more sauce so I lifted up the bun which revealed l lettuce and meat almost void of sauce. “Yeah, we’re going to need more sauce, I responded.” He returned with two small bowls, filled with the original and spicy respectively. Two small saucers for the WHOLE TABLE! This is the first time I’ve had to limit my sauce intake so as to be polite. Hell, it’s the first time I’ve ever felt like I had to be polite at all at any bbq institution.

The meat slices were neither thin, nor thick but they were fairly succulent. I barely tasted any smoky flavor, which is incredibly disappointing. I did enjoy the pork immensely. The meat was the tops if only it had been prepared with more care. It was hot, juicy enough, but just not prepared with the love you get when the meat is smoked for hours in an ancient smoker. The major complaint, other than the sauce deficiency, was that, when the meat was gone from one half, I still had bread and lettuce left over. At most KC bbq joints there is meat, having sloppily dropped on the plate, left after the bread has been devoured, to smother in sauce and wolf down with a fork.

The sauce was bland and disappointing. Maybe that’s why they give you so little. I could barely tell the difference between the spicy and the sweet and I used one for each half of my sandwich. The original sauce was light, thin, paprika based as is custom, and slightly sweet. I found the flavor to be as insufficient as the quantity. The spicy was bland too. This sauce had a little more vinegary taste and it was okay. Neither was bad, but neither was anything special. There was a little smoky taste to both sauces which I noticed when I dipped a French fry in them. Smokey sauce is a bad sign because it means that the meat is not smoked sufficiently or at all.

The fries were very good but nothing special. They were crispy, had a fresh potato taste and seemed homemade from the brown skin on the ends. They were not salty at all but that issue was easily remedied so I have no complaints about those.

The cheesy corn bake was deliciously creamy and had the consistency of a thick French onion soup. I tasted mainly corn and cheese, but really that’s all you need.

Some onion rings were carried by me, stacked on what looked like a ring toss pole, ascending inversely by size and looked to be thickly breaded and thickly cut. I immediately wished I had ordered some, at least as an appetizer.

My friend Nolan Lawrence, whose idea it was to visit Jack Stack, ordered a combo special with lamb ribs, beef burnt ends, beans, fries and a slice of bread. “Always get the lamb ribs,” Nolan suggested, explaining how they are tenderer than the other ribs, how the meat easily slips away from the bone.

Nolan further explained that he liked the burnt ends at Jack Stack better than anywhere else because he didn’t need to separate the fat from the meat. Here, he mentioned, “The fat is a treat,” as opposed to a hindrance, “That’s what keeps me coming back.” “It’s chewy, not stringy like you get at some other places,” he elaborated.

Nolan’s roommate Ryan Engels, ordered the trout with the cheesy potato bake for a side. The waiter did mention that you can have a choice of any side on the menu, even where it lists fries in particular. “I like to mix it up here. I’ve had the barbeque a number of times, but I’m going running tomorrow and this will drag me down less,” Ryan explained. Ryan enjoyed his meal but did not mention anything in particular. I’ll take the blame on that one. I should have asked him more questions, but hey, if you’re reading this to see how the trout is at a barbeque restaurant, I can’t help you.

Ryan brought up a good point though. Jack Stack subscribes to the standard Appleby’s, Cheesecake Factory corporate game plan, an impressive variety, where you can take a large group or a bickering family, and everyone will be satisfied, but nothing in particular sticks out.

Hampton Williams ordered the combo special, burnt ends and baby back ribs, with cheesy corn bake, baked beans and a slice of bread. I had two people at my table who ordered the beans and I didn’t even ask about them. I’m sorry and that’s all I have to say about that.

When I asked Hampton about the burnt ends he replied, “They were fine,” and say any more. He gave me the last two ribs which I gladly gobbled. The meat was a little dry, had no smoky flavor, but the skin which coated the bone was crispy and I greedily scraped it off with my teeth. The meat, again, was quite tasty, although it could have been juicier and should have had some smokiness to it.

In general, I’ll admit that Jack Stack does have an original dining experience. While most bbq restaurants in KC concentrate on the meat’s preparation and the sauce, Jack Stack concentrates on tendering high-quality meat and presentation.

Nolan explained, “You may like it prepared better somewhere else, but as far as ingredients, what they [Jack Stack] bring to the table is better.” I agree with this statement, but to me Jack Stack misses the point. In this blogger’s opinion barbeque IS about how you prepare it, not about the ingredients you start with. The care that is put into the sauce, the flavoring, the fact that your meat has been smoking for hours before you arrive is what makes Kansas City barbeque the best I’ve ever had. Jack Stack not only loses this, but scoffs at it.

In general though, all the sides and meals were solid. Everything looked good, but not a single dish made my mouth water. Further, this was the only time I’ve ever left a bbq restaurant in Kansas City without being completely full. I wasn’t still hungry but I could probably have eaten another whole sandwich.

Now if you’re on the Plaza and you don’t want to drive a short 10 minutes out of your way to either LC’s or Oklahoma Joe’s, or you’re with a client who might want a more formal atmosphere for a meeting, then go to Jack Stack. But, if you have friends from out of town, or you’re vising Kansas City, don’t be drawn in by the convenient location, the name-brand or the locals who tell you how great it is. Find a barbeque joint with some soul, with some style, with some backbone.