Hey y'all!
Well, dip me in shit and call me a member of the east coast liberal power elite, I just got back from Owensboro, Kentucky! Yeeee-ha!
Ahem - - actually, this is quite the charming, surprisingly well-mannered, good-looking, and, dare I say, damn near cosmpolitan (well, parts of it, anyway) little city. I ventured down there this weekend to play two gigs at the lovely new Blues club, Zazu, and, of course, managed to sample some of what makes Owensboro famous (at least to members of this board) - BBQ!!
I feel weird even posting this report, for reasons I'll explain in a minute, but a trip to one of the BBQ meccas of the country is still a trip to one of the BBQ meccas of the country, and so I'll do my duty and report what I'm able to, even if it is (as the subject line indicates) less than thorough.
Only having one afternoon to go out to eat (in between playing the shows and sleeping) and given the fact that I was kind of tied down to the rest of the band and had to make concessions to everyone's schedule and tastes, I was happy to try even one of Owensboro's BBQ houses. Unfortunately, I was ONLY able to try one, and so had to make a crucial, somewhat fast decision based on many factors. The factors, incidentally, are areas of debate and question which apply to eating in any unfamiliar town and in any type of cuisine. For those who know, Moonlite BBQ is considered THE place to go in Owensboro - they have the snazzy website, the huge and spotless building with the cute neon sign, the reputation which has gotten them featured on several TV shows and in several magazines, and the celebrity factor (anyone of note - from Bill Clinton to Willie Nelson - who has stopped in Owensboro for any reason has dined at the Moonlite.) And, indeed, when we arrived at Zazu for our Friday night show (which, incidentally, was marked by free drinks and food from the very gracious owner, Don, and his wife Cheryl. The food? Don's BBQ ribs and fries. The ribs were OK (too much sauce, too sweet, but edible) but the fries were magical. Crinkly cut beauts, they were, and I'm not really a french fry fan to begin with) at least 4 people told us we simply had to go to Moonlite to eat the following day. I was pretty jazzed about Moonlite anyway, and hearing people recommend it without being prompted made me even more eager. When we got back to the hotel, though, we got a different story. What I'm about to say might win (lose?) me some enemies, but, fuck it.
The people who told us we "simply HAVE to try Moonlite" were what one would call white. Yes, their pigmentation was pale, but I'm referring to attitude. White bread. Yuppified. Geeky, polo shirt wearing, overbite-while-dancing, Hootie and the Blowfish listening WHITE PEOPLE. You all know what I'm saying? Our own Gary Wiviott, for example, is (if we must make ethnic distinctions based on melanin) a white man, but he's not white. I like to think of myself as the same (and, indeed, most people on this board as well). Lenny Bruce's classic "Goyisch versus Jewish" bit is more apt, probably. Like, Jews who live in Montana are Jewish, but also Goyisch. Anyway, the people who recommended Moonlite were Goyisch. When we returned to our rooms at the hotel, we talked to the night manager. He is African American, and he's definitely not Goyisch. (Condi Rice and Bryant Gumbel, by comparison, are goyisch. Or white. Whatever.) I casually mentioned we were going to go for BBQ the next afternoon, and he said, "Oh, man, you gotta go to George's." I asked him about Moonlite, and he replied that Moonlite was OK, but, somehow, too... "White bread?" I suggested, as he grasped for the right words. He laughed and said, "yeah, man. That's some white BBQ there. Go to George's, believe me. That's the real deal."
So now, I'm in a pickle (to use a very goyisch expression). With only one chance to sample Owensboro BBQ, I have to decide: eat at the Moonlite, the place that practically put Owensboro on the map and might be the only reason why some people venture there in the first place; OR, take a chance on an unknown, an obviously locals-only joint that might be great or might be one man's (possibly wrong) opinion??? Do I go to Paris and not see the Louvre or the Eiffel Tower but instead, hang out in the Banlieues and train station? Indeed. Well, maybe not the most apt comparison, but, to a BBQ lover, one of comparable magnitude!! (Are you listening, Gary Wiviott, are you listening???!! You feel my pain, brother????!!) Dammit, Spock!
Hmm, indeed. I check out the Moonlite website one more time (
www.moonlite.com). They've obviously got it all: the history, the comfortable seating for huge crowds, the BBQ buffet with every type of meat (featuring the Owensboro specialty, of course: mutton), dessert and vegetable on it, and the cachet that goes with such an operation. I ask myself what I value more - the general consensus of the masses (which may, indeed, be correct) or the opinion of one working man. The obvious and popular place that packs em in, or the humble establishment that is probably pretty quiet most times of the day. David or Goliath? Well, there's a reason I signed up to LTHforum and continue to write, read, and meet people associated with it. Damn it.
George's BBQ
1362 E. 4th St
(270) 926-9276 (read on.....)
We walked in at about 1:30 pm (5 of us in the band) and occupied one of the maybe 12 tables in George's. An older couple at the front, who were finishing up their lunches, were the only other customers. George's front dining room is sparse and humble, but very clean, very quiet, and has ashtrays on all the tables (bless Kentucky.) Right away, the gorgeous smell of slightly charred wood smoke permeated my nostrils. We sit down, and Lulu the waitress (it was her third day and she warned us that she was "still new at this") takes our drink orders and hands out the menus. I decide to be more hands on in my decision making process and head to the back. "Where's the pit man?" I cry out, and, from behind the back door comes Jimmy, a small, taut, wiry man with black smudges on his face and hands and a broad smile. (Jimmy is white, but not Goyisch. That's my estimation, anyway.) Immediately, I can tell that this is a man serious about his work. He's awfully casual and "aw-shucks" about the entire procedure of the BBQ at George's, but his intense, detailed knowledge about the wood (Hickory for flavor and depth, Sassafrass for a little sweetness) temperature, time, and specific cuts of pork, beef, chicken, and, of course, mutton betray a man who loves and cares about BBQ and, more importantly, the people who eat the end product of his labors. Sensing that this is Jimmy's down time between lunch and what is sure to be a busy Saturday night dinner crowd, I try to be as quick and polite as humanly possible as I ask him to guide me through his particular BBQ procedure. Well, he senses that I'm truly interested in what he does (he's right, of course) and puts me at ease by graciously proffering me samples of each of the meats he has recently coaxed from raw cuts into slow smoked goodness. First of course, was his mutton, in both of the traditional Owensboro manners - rough sliced (chopped up hunks, slightly larger than bite size) and hacked or hashed (mutton paste! Yum!). The first taste of mutton BBQ is good, but soon, the gaminess emerges. Jimmy offers me some "dip" for the mutton meat (Owensboro BBQ features no sauce in the traditional sense, but just a very thin, basic vinegar and pepper "dip" in the Carolina tradition. Even this is used sparingly - Owensboroans are meat people.) which perks it up a little but still can't cancel out the very nature of mutton, which is the gamy flavor. Some must love it, but I can't handle it. I don't want to offend Jimmy, and so pretend like I'm savoring it instead of waiting to spit it out. Jimmy, as befits his nature, senses that the mutton doesn't agree with me and confesses, "Shit, man, get rid of that if you don't like it. Me, personally? I can't stand goddamn mutton. Tastes like manure and dirt." I laugh out loud at this and gleefully spit the mutton out in the trash. Jimmy approves of my gesture, and gets me on the good foot with a cup of Burgoo, the local mutton stew. The Burgoo has mutton in it, but also vegetables and a rich, soupy, peppery tomato broth which is absolutely delicious. The mutton merely acts as a texture element in the burgoo, a chewy, savory counterpoint to the potatoes, peas, and broth. Burgoo is some good stuff. This cleanses the palate and preps me for Jimmy's favorite (and mine), the chopped BBQ pork butt. The meat is fork tender but still formed and together, slightly charred on the outside, and smoky, sweet, meaty, buttery, toothsome, chewy, all that good shit. Pork perfection. "Well, I know what I'm ordering! Done!! Thank you!" Jimmy laughs and approves of my decision and wishes me a good appetite and a good lunch as he goes to chop more wood and adjust temperatures and prep the meat for the rest of the day. I get back to the table to find that the other 4 guys have all ordered ribs. I was hoping that at least someone would try the brisket, but, oh well... Soon out comes the food - 4 plates of ribs which are, well, good. Not awesome, not devastating, but certainly a good piece of rib. Not well done enough, maybe - good flavor, noticeable smoke ring, but missing the oomph of a little charring. Of course, these Chicago-trained, Leon's loving bandmates of mine bemoan the lack of a thick, sweet sauce to coat their ribs and kind of give me the queer eye (presumably for choosing George's instead of Moonlite, but I wasn't about to start a debate in that place.) Meanwhile, I'm in chopped pork heaven, the very nice beans, coleslaw, and potato salad providing a good backdrop for the main course. Out comes white bread, pickle chips, and onion, and before I know it I'm making an improv, Carolina style BBQ pork sandwich, slaw and all. While I'm humming away with my chopped pork, the guys are nibbling on their bones, somewhat disappointed. I chide them for all ordering the same thing and tell them that if another fork tries to make its way into my plate of chopped pork, someone is going to lose a fucking finger.
My 3 white bread pork sandwiches, plain pork, and pork with vinegar dip applied being put away, I order some coffee and pecan pie to top off my meal. This was good pecan pie, made in someone's home, with an unfortunately sugary scoop of artificial vanilla ice cream applied on top (which I didn't ask for... oh well). So.. what to say? George's is some good BBQ. The ribs are good (7 out of 10??) the pork is awesome, and the burgoo is good too. The brisket looked great, like the beef equivalent of my chopped pork plate. The sides - beans, slaw, potato salad - were all homemade and good, not spectacular (but, really, should they be?). Service was friendly as could be, and atmosphere was basic but quiet and clean (two things harder to find and two things I'm valuing more the older I get). Now, we could have gone to Moonlite and gorged away at the buffet, or gotten what is probably a huge plate dinner, with our choice of a dozen side dishes and just as many desserts. We probably would have had to wait a while, during which time we'd probably have to endure the PA system calling out names and numbers for tables, and then the din of a lot of kids and families during our meal. We would have also had to get up and come back to our table a few times to try the buffet, too. Not a big deal, but, as one woman who is also somewhat anti-Moonlite pointed out (not til I met her as I was leaving Owensboro, natch), "I want to have people bring the food to me when I go out to eat, darn it!" Amen, sister. So, the Moonlite remains a mystery, at least until April 22-23rd, when I return to play Zazu. For all I know, it's great BBQ. It might blow George's off the map, even given the dedication and knowhow of a pit man like Jimmy. Do I regret going to George's? Hell no. Even if the food stunk - and, certainly, it didn't - I would prefer the reality of George's to an imagined Moonlite. Luckily, the BBQ pork at George's was some of the best, if not THE best, I've ever had. The rest of the food was solid, satisfying fare. No complaints, no raves. But the peace and quiet, the super friendly people, and the fact that George's just operates on a different level than the Moonlite made it worthwhile for me. Next month when I return, I'm gonna suck it up and go to Moonlite. Like I said, I might be dead wrong about this place - it might rule. But for now, I'm content in my decision to go to George's, the LTH of Owensboro (hmm.. Gary's chili oil as the "dip" for my chopped pork??? Why, yes!) (Side note - the aforementioned woman who likes to be served rather than serve herself when dining out said to me as I left her cigarette shop this afternoon, "Y'all gonna go get barbecue now? Well, the Moonlite is all right, but the BEST place in town is Old Hickory. Now THAT's some good BBQ!!" Dammit, lady.) Look for chapter two late April. Good 'cue to you,
Rebbe
Moonlite Barbq Inn
2840 W Parrish Avenue
(270) 684-8143
Old Hickory Pit Bar-B-Q
338 Washington Av
(270) 926-9000
also of interest as we drove into town.....
Shady Rest Barbecue Inn
3955 E 4th St
(270) 926-8234