Three lesser-known barbecue joints show off some upgrade-worthy strengths

I have tasted the best ham-salad sandwich in Kansas City — in an Overland Park barbecue joint. But more on that later.

If you’ve never heard of Brobecks BBQ, on Indian Creek Parkway, you aren’t alone. I was right there with you, in fact, until a couple of weeks ago, when I stopped there on a Friday night. I was with two friends, one of whom had heard about Brobecks from a friend of a friend (or something like that).

“It’s across from the Quik­Trip at 435 and Roe,” Deb said from the backseat of my car. I hadn’t noticed anything resembling a barbecue shack on this suburban stretch, but there it was, at the back of an indistinct shopping complex.

Most of the big names in Kansas City barbecue — Gates, Arthur Bryant’s, Jack Stack, Rosedale — are easy to locate. Their free-standing buildings have operated, in some cases, for decades. But there’s always someplace off the beaten path, waiting to be discovered, like some secret clubhouse that can be found only by following the aroma of burning hickory.

That alluring smell floats out of three barbecue restaurants that I’ve recently discovered. In addition to Brobecks are the Rub in Olathe and Biemer’s BBQ in Lawrence. All three smoke their ribs and brisket and pork over fragrant hickory wood, the official perfume of the Kansas City metro. You can detect the sultry scent from Brobecks’ smoker, in the parking lot outside the restaurant, but it’s less immediate at the Rub, which has one of those shiny stainless-steel gas-and-wood Southern Pride smokers on the serving line. It’s very sleek but a little sterile. I think the olfactory qualities of a barbecue restaurant are almost as important as the taste of the pulled pork and fries. If it doesn’t smell like a barbecue joint, it really isn’t one.

The Rub is the product of Kevin Boetcher, David Tines and former Applebee’s executive Dan Janssen, a new casual-dining venue that’s eight months old. Their contest team, Tender Racks ‘n Smokin’ Butts, placed in the 2010 American Royal Open Barbecue Competition. Credentials notwithstanding, their place feels less like a barbecue restaurant than like a Chipotle.

“That was the design,” Janssen says.

The Rub looks like the prototype for a franchise operation. It so closely mimics the look and the serving style of a Chipotle that I almost ordered a soft taco by mistake.

The restaurant’s Facebook page calls it “Kansas City’s newest upscale bar-b-que.” Upscale? Not by my standards (the Jack Stack restaurants are the only truly “upscale” smoked-meat operations in the metro), though it does have six monitors — all tuned to ESPN — and it uses metal flatware with the paper napkins and disposable plates. Maybe that qualifies as upmarket in Olathe.

One thing the Rub does right, though, is serve a single rib. That option is perfect for people like me, who can’t eat a whole slab but want to taste a meaty rib or two along with a pulled-pork sandwich or smoked brisket. The Rub’s rib wasn’t the meatiest I’ve ever tasted (or the heftiest), but it was tender.

But its best-selling dish is much less dainty. It’s called the Hillbilly Bowl, and all I can say is, diabetics should beware. The thing is sweet — disturbingly sweet — like a dessert made out of meat. It’s in a bowl, all right: a big old slab of cornbread, encrusted with a thick layer of sugar and topped with a choice of smoked meat, a generous spoonful of this joint’s mediocre baked beans and a baseball-sized mound of fried onion straws. Once you pull the teeth-jarringly sweet cornbread out of the bowl, the rest of the ingredients make for perfectly adequate nibbling.

A more traditional ‘cue experience can be had at Biemer’s BBQ in Lawrence, which operates out of a red- and yellow-painted, 1960s-vintage, former fast-food building at Ninth Street and Iowa. It’s cheery inside and spotlessly clean, with such festive decorative touches as silk sunflowers popping out of pretend window boxes. It smells good and smoky, and the wholesome-looking kids behind the counter could have been culled from an episode of Hee Haw. The music system plays the blues — the real blues.

All of the sauces here — they’re not made in-house but do come from the owner’s recipes — are molasses-based and seriously sweet, but the version labeled “Very Hot” delivers an unexpected kick-ass aftertaste. It’s delicious with the crinkle-cut fries, which come served with a smart dusting of garlic powder, onion salt and paprika.

The beef brisket at Biemer’s is outstanding, and the pulled pork gorgeously tender (even if it’s served on the cheapest kind of supermarket burger bun). The prices are divinely cheap, and the ribs score on every point: meaty, fall-off-the-bone tender and flavorful.

Biemer’s has been in its current location for four years, previously operating out of a Phillips 66 station (where the Basil Leaf Café now serves its fancy pasta). The employees all wear T-shirts (emblazoned with “We rub our meat daily”), which are also sold to the public. A tasteful gift idea, I think.

And if tasteful is what you want in a barbecue joint, look no further than Overland Park’s Brobecks BBQ. It offers sit-down service, and the waitresses are friendly. The server who worked my table one day brought out a complimentary sample of the restaurant’s best-selling dip, a ham-salad concoction made with house-smoked ham and turkey. The dip version is served with chips and cellophane-wrapped crackers. You get only two crackers with the sample, but it’s not a lot of ham salad. But this stuff is better than my mom’s, so order the sandwich version, a thick curl of ham salad on soft white bread.

The barbecue is terrific here, too. The salmon — offered only on weekends — is exceptional, with a delicately crispy exterior and a moist, smoky, pink interior complemented by a dollop of mustard-dill sauce. The burnt ends I tried were perfectly tender, and the smoked chicken supple and moist.

Brobecks serves the traditional sides — baked beans, slaw, steak fries — and they are, as tradition dictates, hit-or-miss. The macaroni and cheese, our waitress warned us, is Kraft — “You know,” she said, “out of the box.” A cheesy-corn mixture is particularly heavy on the cheese, and the smoked baked potatoes, despite a vaguely hickory taste, are disappointing and dry.

Brobecks began life as the Stilwell Smokehouse before moving to its current location four years ago. On the busy Friday night that I dined there, the patrons were mostly older but surprisingly diverse: black, white, gay, straight.

“Everyone likes barbecue,” our waitress told us.

It’s true! And I like it with macaroni and cheese, so I scandalized my friends and ordered a little crock of it. It was definitely Kraft. Tasted just like my mom’s — great with ham salad.