To find real barbecue in Denver, four hunter-gatherers embarked on a Saturday-morning safari, intent on hitting five joints before sunset. We started out with pens and notebooks. By stop No. 3, all pretense of serious research had dissipated into swoons, “oohs,” “aahs” and “Oh, man, that is righteous.”
Barbecue isn’t just food. It’s a philosophy, a way of life, the ultimate paean to the often-underappreciated pig.
Consider the pulled pork of the Carolinas, the brisket of the Texas plains, or the Kansas City vs. St. Louis battle over ribs.
Locally, Marczyk Fine Foods’ annual streetside pig roast is a fine tribute to Sus domesticus. Yet as flavorful as that caramel-colored little pig is, it is the deep pink, succulent, toothsome, smoked-’til-the-end-of-time rib that transcends them all.
The good news is it’s much easier to pick and choose your favorite Denver ‘cue than it was a few slender years ago – from Brothers, established by a couple of Brits; to Big Papa’s, established just over a year ago; to Famous Dave’s, open but a few months.
Barbecue done right is almost the exclusive purview of a handful of weary people, too preoccupied with producing consistently good food to contemplate expansion. They thrive off the beaten path, satisfying returning customers week after week. As barbecue continues its climb to the pantheon of Great American Foods, barbecue joints are no longer exclusive to remote areas, places like Cranky Frank’s in Fredericksburg, Texas, where the owners might go off at the tail end of lunch and do the laundry or mend the tractor while you finish eating. Just leave the money on the counter and something in the tip jar.
So there’s a tendency to be suspicious of a place like Famous Dave’s, a Wisconsin export serving the Stapleton area.
It has a slick menu that touts “flame-kissed” ribs and chicken, and colorful graphics illustrating many of the traditional requisites, including just enough of a carefully crafted, rough-and-tumble ambience to suggest the feel of an old-fashioned joint. But Dave’s does a respectable job and is rewarded by an already loyal clientele.
Brothers BBQ now has multiple locations, and quality control is frayed around the edges as a result.
The food at Rebel Ribs in Golden is acceptable, but the hint of pre-baked, smoker-finished ribs left something to be desired – mainly that smoked-through flavor.
Even Aspen is tuned in to the glories of barbecue. Hickory House, a highly successful alternative to high-end, foie-gras-
laced cuisine de jour, has a steady stream of loyal locals on a regular basis.
True-blue barbecue goes from counter to smoker to table. Sauce is gilding the lily – a little lagniappe, as the Cajuns say; the addition of a certain je ne sais quoi. The rib joints we visited had enough different sauces that you could dress your hot link sandwich with sweet, vinegar, hot-sweet, Carolina mustard or some permutation of them all.
But Rebel Ribs is the only known place in town other than Bayou Bob’s where you can get fried pickle slices. Someone did some serious research.
But the folks at Famous Dave’s should know that barbecue isn’t flame-kissed. It flirts with flame, dances in smoke and hugs your innards with a ferocity that makes your toes tingle. Flames shouldn’t get anywhere near the meat.
Having grown up in the Midwest, where a battle raged for most of my youth between St. Louis and Kansas City barbecue, I have long worshipped at the barbecue altar. I thought St. Louis’ was best because that’s what I grew up eating. In my formative years, sauce nuances eluded me. It was the tender-
at-the-bone pork that counted. The rich, sensuous flavor of deep-smoked ribs and chicken teases the olfactory senses until the aroma commands hand and teeth, in perfect coordination with one another, to embark on the journey that translates texture and taste into a transcendent experience.
Year-round ribs
Ribs are not seasonal. They are table-worthy year-round. My Uncle Jack wouldn’t sit down to Thanksgiving dinner in Chicago unless a pile of well-smoked ribs shared space with turkey and the trimmings.
In the 1950s and ’60s, the first time I ever saw white people in my neighborhood who weren’t cops was at McCrary’s Barbecue in St. Louis. My dad and I were waiting for ribs, chicken and hot links, a sometime Saturday-night dinner treat. If you didn’t know exactly where McCrary’s was, you could follow your nose.
It was much like a recent pass through Kansas City, Mo., where all you have to do is come off Interstate 70 at the 18th Street exit and ask the first person you see how to get to Arthur Bryant’s, at 18th and Brooklyn Avenue. The only people who can’t give directions are those looking for it too.
Bryant’s, along with its gastronomic nemesis Gates and Sons, are Kansas City institutions. The original Arthur Bryant restaurant is in the middle of an industrial nowhere. On Sundays there’s plenty of parking space because everything around it is closed. Then, even with car windows closed, that familiar aroma wafts in. It casts a magic spell. On the recent Sunday I stopped there, a rainbow coalition of diners filled the place – uniformed police officers, families fresh from church, students, guys recovering from a rough Saturday and travelers, marked by license plates from California, Missouri, Colorado and Arizona.
Feeding Calvin Trillin
When this vaunted defender of Kansas City barbecue came to Denver two years ago, the question, given his time constraints, was not whether to take Calvin Trillin to lunch, but where. His writing makes it clear he’s more attuned to eating unusual food in a Vietnamese, Thai or Chinese restaurant than some hoity-toity, white-tablecloth joint.
Then it dawned: barbecue. He only recently had attended a symposium on barbecue sponsored by the Southern Foodways Alliance in Oxford, Miss. I knew what we should eat, but where?
M&D’s was no longer the quasi-greasy spoon and barbecue joint it had been only two years ago. Nothing wrong with moving up, of course, but matching metal flatware, even if it’s industrial-grade restaurant quality, lends incongruous panache. Plastic is better. At barbecue restaurants, plastic flowers are de rigueur, preferably dusty ones that will confuse neither bee nor butterfly. A roll of paper towels supplants napkins, which are reserved for to-go orders. Too much cleanliness renders a true ‘cue joint suspect, but raggedy is not something Denver tolerates well.
Mismatched chairs work, too. In my time I’ve seen a restaurant chair back held together with duct tape and another left hideously duotoned when someone got distracted halfway through painting.
Once, at a communal table at Cooper’s, a truly outstanding place in Llano, Texas, a chair collapsed. Its occupant, an oversized sort, broke his fall with one hand, but the hand holding a fat, partially gnawed rib never touched the ground. Greasy hands helped him up. He thanked his neighbor, took a sip of his cold drink and returned to his meal seated in a different, if not newer, chair. Rural Texas isn’t particularly litigious, and no one wants to jeopardize a good ‘cue joint over something trivial like a fractured tailbone.
What to drink
Beer, sweet tea, lemonade, Dr Pepper and Jack Daniels are acceptable accompaniments to barbecue. Raspberry-flavored bottled water, Gatorade and green tea are not. Anything that smacks of health-consciousness is just wrong. Barbecue might be nigh onto sacred, but it is not health food – which is why you shouldn’t eat it more than three or four times a week. That’s also why, to its credit, Big Papa’s BBQ takes care to identify its low-carb items with stars. And why everything except cole slaw and sandwiches is starred.
Longtime buddies Frank Alfonso, Bill Cossof and Andrew Besemer brought their interpretation of ‘cue from Florida via Chicago. If you want to know serious barbecue, visit one of their two restaurants. They’ve done it right. And they’re the only joint in town to do fork-tender beef ribs, no small feat.
But back to Trillin
Winston Hill’s place near Littleton was too far away, so we hit Brothers, at Washington Street and East Sixth Avenue. Trillin pronounced the ribs at Brothers “not bad,” which, for him, is more of a compliment than it sounds.
That was in 2003. There were places to find barbecue in Denver. Good barbecue was another story. We’re talking meat cooked low and slow, over an eight- to 10-hour period. Before being placed near a flame, ribs are rubbed and allowed to sit overnight, then brought to room temperature before going into a smoker holding steady at no more than 225 degrees. The meat is turned with tongs, never a fork. An occasional slathering of vinegar- or beer-based marinade keeps the meat moist. It is at least an eight-hour process.
Done properly, neither ribs nor chicken nor brisket nor any other food that calls itself barbecue is cooked quickly. The name of the game is now, and ever shall be, low and slow: the pitmaster’s mantra.
At year-old Chapter One BBQ and Grill on South Quebec Street, near Evans Avenue, are the brother-sister team of Bonnie and Jerome Sims smoke their beef, pork, sausage and chicken in a 17-by-8-foot smoker that eats a mix of apple and hickory wood all day. The menu is simple, printed on one side of an 8-by-11-inch sheet of gray-green paper.
They serve the requisite ribs, chicken, brisket, hot links and fried catfish. Then you’ve got your standard sides: potato salad, baked beans, slaw, corn on the cob and fries. Chapter One also sells Perrier. Maybe they think there should be some nod toward health-consciousness.
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WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE ‘Q?
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If your luck runs right, Bonnie Sims will have baked a peach cobbler. The Simses are originally from Shreveport, La., and are realizing their lifelong dream of having their own barbecue place. She came to Denver in the 1970s, followed by her brother, then their mother, who has since died. The restaurant’s name comes from their new beginning, a new chapter in their lives.
It’s exciting to have several places to take newcomers and fellow barbecue freaks.
How freaky? Well, take the weekend trip Denver poet Jake Adam York made earlier this year to Kansas City – he hit 10 joints on both sides of the state line. He went just to eat barbecue. All day, every day. Asked if he didn’t get tired of it, he cast a quizzical sideways glance and said, “You don’t get tired of eating barbecue; it just isn’t done. I think if you look in the Colorado penal code, there is a law that enjoins you from getting tired of barbecue.”
Staff writer Ellen Sweets can be reached at 303-820-1284 or esweets@denverpost.com.
RECIPES
Peach Cobbler
This recipe comes to us from Bonnie Sims, who, with her brother Jerome, owns Chapter One Barbecue in Denver. The Sims got the recipe from Barbecue All Stars Bill and Barbara Milroy of Denton, Texas. If you like, you can add 1 teaspoon allspice, cinnamon or vanilla extract to the peach and sugar mixture.
Serves 6-8.
Ingredients
Directions
Preheat oven to 250.
Mix flour, 1 cup of sugar, baking powder, salt and milk in a large bowl until well blended. Melt butter in a 9-by-13-inch baking pan, spreading it evenly. In a small saucepan, warm the peaches and remaining 1/3 sugar just until sugar melts. Pour peach mixture on top of the butter/flour mixture.
Bake for 45 minutes. Allow to cool for 10 minutes before serving. Garnish with whipped cream.
Famous Dave’s Legendary Pit Barbecue Ribs
Created by founder Dave Anderson, this recipe won the “Best Ribs in America” title at the Great American Rib Cookoff in Ohio. Famous Dave’s does not give out its restaurant recipes, but this is similar to what’s served at the restaurant. The rub and sauce are sold at the restaurant and famousdaves.com. Serves 5-6.
Ingredients
Directions
The night before smoking, trim your ribs of all excess fat. Place them in a large plastic bag and pour in Italian dressing to coat. Seal bag well. Refrigerate for 4 hours, turning occasionally. Remove and wipe dressing off. Sprinkle each rib with pepper, then 1/4 cup of the brown sugar and 1/2 cup of the onion flakes. Wrap each rib in plastic and refrigerate overnight.
The next morning, remove from wrap and wipe sludge off ribs. Generously coat front and back of ribs with rib rub, and using your hands, rub seasoning into meat and set aside. The smoking process will take 6 hours. Using a chimney charcoal starter, get 15 briquettes red hot. Place coals on one end of grill and place 1 pound of green hickory around coals. Use water-soaked hickory chunks if you can’t get fresh-cut hickory.
Keep internal temperature of the grill at 200-225 degrees. Add more charcoal and hickory chunks every hour as needed. Place ribs bone-side down but not directly over hot coals. After 3 hours, remove ribs from grill and wrap in aluminum foil. Hold in covered grill at 180-200 degrees for 1 1/2-2 hours or until fork-tender. Next build a hot bed of coals over the entire bottom of grill. Be careful, because this next step goes quickly.
Place ribs back on grill to add char flavor. When the meat becomes bubbly it is done. Make sure to char off bone-side membrane until it becomes papery and disintegrates. Slather with sauce. Let heat caramelize sauce. This caramelizing along with the charring and slow smoking is the secret to tender smoky ribs just like the championship pit- masters used to do in the Deep South. There are no shortcuts to this time-honored way of barbecuing.
Sweet Potato Casserole
Although Big Papa’s would not share the recipe for its sweet potato casserole, right, this orange-flavored one from cooks.com comes close. Serves 5-6.
Ingredients
Directions
Boil potatoes in skins until done. Skin and mash the potatoes, add remaining ingredients except nuts or marshmallows. Put in greased casserole after beating well. Top with marshmallows or nuts, if using.
Bake in 300-degree oven about 30 minutes.
Ellen’s Original Coleslaw
This recipe evolved as a result of necessity. Running late, I had to use what was already available, instead of making a run to the grocery store for more mayonnaise. Caution: Don’t add salt and pepper until everything has been combined for at least an hour. This can be made and refrigerated for several hours before serving. Serves 6-8.
Ingredients
Directions
Combine slaw mix, onion, parsley and celery seed thoroughly (this is easiest if done by hand).
Using a small wire whisk or a fork, thoroughly combine mayonnaise and salad dressing. Add blue cheese, if using, and dressing to slaw and mix well by hand. Cover and chill for at least 2 hours. Add more mayonnaise, if desired, salt and pepper.
Melba’s Baked Beans
There are a handful of requisite sides for barbecue, and baked beans is one of them. In Texas they’re sometimes called “barbecue beans,” because they accompany ‘cue, and sometimes because they actually have barbecue sauce in them. This recipe always worked for our family. And don’t feel guilty about starting out with canned beans. This dresses them up a lot. Serves 8-10.
Ingredients
Directions
Preheat oven to 250.
Combine all ingredients except bacon. Pour into a casserole dish. Arrange bacon pieces in parallel or cross-hatch pattern. Bake for 2 1/2 hours, or until bacon is crisp and edges begin to bubble.
Three-Onion Potato Salad
There’s a lot of flavor here, but it stands up to a spicy rib or well-seasoned smoked chicken. It even works on a hot-link sandwich. You know you’re a real barbecue aficionado when you eat potato salad on bread. Note: I don’t use much salt, so you might want to check seasonings before serving. Remember, the pickles are very salty. Serves 8-10.
Ingredients
Directions
In a large stockpot, bring potato cubes to a boil, then simmer until done, about 20 minutes. Drain thoroughly. Add onions, eggs, celery, pickle, mayonnaise, pickle juice, cayenne and black pepper. Mix well and let stand in fridge for 1 hour.
