One guaranteed way to start an argument is to proclaim that one particular place “has the best barbeque.” Like many people, I love barbeque. It started when I was nine years old. We lived on the outskirts of Kansas City, Missouri in a farming community named Belton. One Sunday after church, my father took us on a 45 minute drive along with several carloads of his friends to a nondescript restaurant on a two-lane highway. I remember a lot of old wood and a big stone fireplace.
Having never tried BBQ before and being a kid, I was apprehensive about what to eat. My mother suggested a pulled pork sandwich since I liked pork chops. When the food came, I was intrigued by the smell. There was a plastic ketchup bottle filled with Kansas City style sauce. I took a bite into the sandwich and fell in love. The pork was smoky and moist, with a sweet tomato-based sauce that turned the sandwich into a meal that required nothing else to complete it.
It was so good that I think Jews and Muslims will find it in heaven after they die. God will reward them for depriving themselves of such deliciousness for their entire lives. As a Roman, Paul knew how great pork was, so he gave Christians a head start over other religions. Pork is a heavenly food that can be enjoyed here on earth. Being a kid, of course, I ordered the same meal every time we went, which was at least once a month. Then, one day, my mother had a left over pork rib and I was still hungry. Ribs became my new favorite delivery system for the BBQ sauce. I loved that sauce so much I would gladly bathe in it.
BBQ sauce is another argument starter. Obviously, I remain fond of KC style sauce, but I’ve tried and enjoyed other sauces, like the ones that are mustard and vinegar based. Every part of the country seems to have its own sauce preferences, and I enjoy most of them. The only sauces I don’t care for are jalapeño-based sauces from Texas that overpower the smoky flavor.
My point is that sauces are a personal preference. I don’t think you can really argue that a sauce is superior to another because you like it best. It’s almost the same as asking what wood to use or which smoked meat is superior. I’ve learned to enjoy all kinds of barbequed meats: chicken, pork butt, brisket, and even wild game. As far as wood goes, oak, hickory, or mesquite all impart different but savory flavors.
But what about the BBQ itself. Is there a best? I once heard a BBQ judge answer the question, “What’s the best barbeque you’ve eaten?” He said that it was whatever BBQ he was eating at the moment. This implies that BBQ is merely a personal preference. I disagree. First of all, it can’t be good BBQ if it isn’t smoked. The meat can be grilled or braised and still be delectable, but it’s not BBQ. Even though I have a personal preference for all BBQ in the pork family, I will argue that there is such a thing as bad BBQ.
Exhibit A is that I once stopped at a place on Cimarron Street in Colorado Springs that advertised “world famous BBQ.” It was owned by a retired army cook and it showed. The ribs had been boiled. They had some ketchup–not ketchup-based sauce but plain ketchup–splashed on top. These ribs were world famous, but for the wrong reason, and the place is out of business. I think the owner was the same army cook who took slices of Wonder bread, topped them with ketchup and Velveeta cheese, and served it to us in Vietnam as pizza.
My point is that there is such a thing as standards for good BBQ. One could quibble and argue that what I had wasn’t real BBQ. But I know that many places, national chain restaurants included, advertise BBQ but boil their meat and use bottled sauces. The closest they get to being smoked is when the cook takes a cigarette break. I still love good pulled pork. The best is made by taking a whole hog and smoking it for a full 24 hours. Then the meat is pulled off of the bones, with very little effort. Done in this way, pulled pork is mouth-watering, melt-in-your-mouth goodness. The sauce chosen is irrelevant.
This brings me to my pet peeve about BBQ food in many restaurants. They advertise fall-off-the-bone ribs. I agree that such meat can be very tasty, but if I wanted fall-off-the-bone meat, I’d order pulled pork. It tastes the same and is cheaper. I want ribs that require a little bit, not a lot, just a little bit of work to get the meat off of the bone. It’s not just a texture thing. The meat on such ribs has a sweetness from the fat being just the right level of doneness. Too much more cooking and the fat dissolves into juice. It’s delicious but not the same.
At this point, you’re probably wondering where I go for good BBQ. My answer is that it depends on the season. In summer, my favorite is Phil’s Pig Out BBQ truck in Woodland Park. He’s only open in the summer months on weekends, and he uses bottled sauce (Kansas City style, of course.) It doesn’t matter. His hickory smoked ribs are done to perfection. As a bonus, they’re the whole rib instead of having some of the best meat, the top, cut off.
In the winter, I get my BBQ rib fix at Famous Dave’s when I’m in the North end of town. Closer to home, I go to Birddog, Front Range, or as a last resort Rudy’s (too much pepper and they cut off the best part of the rib). I’m sure many people will argue with me about my choices, especially my colleagues from the South. But that’s okay. I’ll continue to enjoy the hell out of Phil’s ribs until he retires. And then I might just have to take a road trip to Kansas City. I bet I know some people who would join me.
