On 'Cue in Memphis
July 2005
Ribs or sandwiches, wet mop or dry rub - pork barbeque reigns in Tennessee's unofficial barbeque capitol. Dotty Griffith gets a taste of how to live high on the hog.
Milk and honey? Nah. In my heaven, the menu is barbeque, and the promised land is Memphis. It's the best city in the U.S. for sampling 'cue-so long as pork is involved. Purely porcine barbeque, usually smoked with hickory or oak, is the name of the game in this town.
Pork ribs are a given, but style - wet with sauce or dry and powdered with spice rub - is the debate with as many lives as three black cats. Many places in Memphis serve only one style or the other. Some serve both. Some even serve a range of sauces, from vinegar-thin to thick as ketchup (the common denominator being enough acidity to balance the sweet richness of the meat).
When it comes to smoked shoulder, pulled (shredded) and/or chopped is the way it's served in Memphis. No sliced pork here; that's for Texas beef brisket. Undoubtedly, the best way to enjoy pulled pork is mounded and garnished with mayonnaise - or vinegar based coleslaw between halves of a pillow-soft white bun. This is no time to go carb-less. And don't even think aboutwhole-wheat or seven-grain.
The style of barbeque you prefer - and the kind you defend with passion - is probably the first one that ever touched your lips. But if you're still undecided, well, comparative studies have never been so much fun.
Begin your course in Memphis-style 'cue at one of the classics. In the late '70s, pitmaster James L. Neely transformed a grocery store into JIM NEELY's INTERSTATE BARBECUE. Every easy-to-pull mouthful of ribs is available dry or wet - why not order one rack of each? The rub is spicy and complex; the smoky, sweet-tangy tomato sauce is thick enough to slather the meat.
Neely even has two locations in the memphis airport, so you can pick some up to take home with you. Chance are, nobody on a plane departing from Memphis is going to mind the seductive aroma emanating from a bog o' ribs.
Want to test the theory that the rib doesn't fall far from the family tree? Try NEELY'S BAR-B-QUE, a chain started by Neely's nephews. Four brothers - Gaelin, Tony, Mark, and Patrick - amicably struck out on their own in 1988 after a decade of working for their uncle. Their original location, an unassuming spot near downtown, serves Jim-Neely-esque product with a few twists: not nearly as much sauce, and meat with a bit more tooth to it. You can get your ribs wet or dry (sauce on the side), and the sandwich comes piled high with creamy coleslaw.
Inner-city Memphis isn't the only place to find knock-out barbecue. Historic, now suburban, Germantown has become the Beverly Hills of western Tennessee. Go to the heart of the village and find smoke by the railroad tracks. That's where you will find a 90-year-old country store called GERMANTOWN COMMISSARY, serving up stellar 'cue since 1981. The ribs plate (including slaw, a deviled egg, baked beans, and a roll and pulled pork sandwiches are serious. Despite the chichi (by 'cue shack standards, anyway) interior, the ribs have an authentic flavor and the shoulder is smoky and tender. Could the secret have something to do with a wet-dry compromise?
"We are sort of fence-sitters," says owner Walker Taylor. Although his finished ribs "are more towards the dry style," Taylor does brush on a bit of sauce near the end of smoking for a light glaze. "But we don't sprinkle [spice] powder on them like some do," he adds. His own special seasoning salt is available for self sprinkling at the table, however.
There's no debate over the barbecue style at the three-year-old CENTRAL BBQ - this is sauce central. Not nearly as white-bread as some barbecue restaurants, but not nearly as funky as others (it's in midtown, near the university and stately old mansions), Central BBQ offers something unusual for a Tennessee joint - four varieties of sauce, from the mustardy South Carolina to the vinegary Virginia. The range of choices sheds light on why, in some southern cities, an intricate sauce - not the meat -makes the barbecue. At Central BBQ, however, you get a double whammy: amazing pork and fun with condiments.
If you think you can handle one more rack before settling down to an evening of music along Beale Street, I know just the place - Blues City Cafe p part tourist hangout, part local drop-in - will satisfy any last scintilla of a ribs craving. They're tender, falling off the bone, and coated with a thick, sweet-savory sauce that finishes with a tingle of heat. For you barbecue lovers who don't want to gnaw, order the sandwich - chopped with rib meat conveniently located on a bun.
Why the tourists at Blues City Cafe? Because the interior of the restaurant appeared in the film The Firm, and it is where Bill Clinton eats ribs when he's visiting Memphis. Why the locals? Because the barbecue and the live music are divine. Blues and barbecue, smoke and sauce. In Memphis, they all meld beautifully. Just like heaven.
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