KC Voices: Our BBQ valor would be better served by taking defensiveness it down a notch

Photo by Steph Castor

In the KC Voices column, we ask members of the KC community to submit stories about their thoughts and experiences in all walks of life. If you’ve got a story you’d like to share with our readers, please send it to brock@thepitchkc.com for consideration. Today, local BBQ supporter/critic/enjoyer/critic (again) Richie Wolfe shares his thoughts on a dissatisfaction with our collective tone toward taste. 

Illustration by Jack Raybuck

KC Voices local submissions

My name is Richie Wolfe and I am a filmmaker, author, and cyclist. I started the “KCBBQ Bible” Instagram account in 2012 and deleted it last year, due to my dissatisfaction with the current state of BBQ in my hometown.

I have eaten food in 49 states and 12 countries. In almost 17 years of eating Kansas City barbecue and over 25 years eating BBQ abroad, I have acquired an adequate palate for what true BBQ is. I have personally dined in at least 70 individual restaurant brands dedicated to “Kansas City BBQ” (in many cases, dined in several times and grabbed a take-out order)—most of which have shut down after long careers.

The pursuit of smoked meats has brought me to Texas, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, New York, and Montreal. I have traveled to the outskirts of our metro area from Spring Hill, the Legends, and Bates City.

I’m starting to think it’s ridiculous what physical locations are considering themselves “Kansas City BBQ”.

I went to a place near Columbia that was better than half the restaurants in Kansas City, and they didn’t rely on Midwest prestige to make something of themselves. I find this an annoying aspect of our BBQ culture in Kansas City, and I believe it’s becoming a boiling point for whether we are true to ourselves or only have establishments that want the right branding.

Kansas City BBQ is defined by a well-cooked brisket and a complementary sauce. Pork is whatever, ribs can be the best or the worst, sausage is left for the butchers, and chicken is meant for the daily special. Brisket is the golden calf of whether you make or break yourself as a BBQ champion. (A sinful pun.)  A fair number of local restaurants tend to rely on their sauce instead of making a consistent quality smoked meat. In my opinion, the majority of restaurants’ meats, on their own, aren’t anything to mention in Kansas City. There are a handful that I’ve found consistently pump out quality meat, that is, flavor without the addition of Sauce. Joe’s KC, LC’s, Harp, Q39, and Blind box are the top 5 on my list that consistently blow your mind with their quality brisket and burnt ends.

Don’t even get me started on burnt ends. PBS put out a documentary about our Kansas City delicacy, and most of the “experts” were white men. I’m not saying they aren’t great pit masters, but when you dive into the history of BBQ in Kansas City, the Black community should have a spotlight of importance.

Still, burnt ends are an important staple. The kitchens that have mastered them not only know the right pit smoke mixture, but also the char that traps in the dripping flavor. In my experience, there’s a fine line between A juicy charred burnt ends plate and just Sunday pot roast. I’m not really sure how anyone could unconsciously ruin a fatty end, but I’ll tell you, Jack Stack and Wyandotte BBQ have never met the mark for me.

Speaking of Jack Stack, I think they could be partially responsible for starting an interesting restaurant-owning faux pas. The sit-down wine and dine business model. Jack Stack took what Arthur Bryant started and hurled a 5-course-sized javelin through it. Kansas City has overwhelmingly lost the legacy of a classic dine-in experience. What I mean is that the dine-in and carryout experience should essentially be the same.

We see the likes of Q39, Blind Box, Burnt Ends, Charbar, etc, using the ‘being served in a nice establishment’ model and rebranding the very core of what BBQ should be. In Texas, you watch them pull meat straight from a smoker, they lop it on butcher paper, weigh it, and tell you the sides are free next to the soda fountain. I appreciate the good faith tradition of “hole in the wall”.  Sauce at the table, paper towel in bulk, serve yourself, and get the hell out when you’re done. Instead of expecting waiters to serve for their pay, give them a headband to slab together some sandwiches with head-turning sides. BBQ deserves a gritty juke joint environment. Don’t get me wrong, we still need health code and top-notch hygiene. But dear God, I want the person who I’m ordering from to have a witty comeback and not a cummerbund.

Other establishments that I feel take on this legacy are Danny Edwards, Rosedale, Wyandotte, and Arthur Bryant’s. Not a comprehensive list by any means, but the recognizable brands illustrate my point. We need less class and more sass (Which Gates may or may not give you enough of on any given day.)

Now, my last critique of BBQ culture is the sauce. I believe in a conspiracy that KC Masterpiece altered our history forever. When KC Masterpiece created its sugar-filled, thick sauce, it changed what the world would know as KC BBQ. The meat stopped being a priority, and an arms race of creating the least exciting and most marketable sauces began. I’d say there are fewer brands that have “good” sauce than there are who make good meat.

But let me back up a little bit and explain myself. When I imagine Kansas City BBQ sauce, I think of Gates and Bryant’s. Thin, slightly vinegary, with few spices, more resembling hot sauce than Blues Hog. That is a Kansas City-style sauce. KC Masterpiece thickened it up, packed it full of sugar, and dyed it brown to change a landscape that would propel us to the BBQ capital of the world. It’s not easy to create a good sauce, but when it comes to originality, I think Joe’s KC takes the cake. Adequate thickness, slight sweetness that’s overridden with peppery sprinkles, and a landscape of bold flavor. I think KC kitchens need to up their game and stop feeding us molasses and ketchup. Start creating compliments to our staple cuisine, and not just a thin veil of deceit.