I’m really posting these pictures because I want to relive the moments I spent in Arthur Bryant’s Barbeque. I had been in Missouri for three days and hadn’t had any real mid-west food (if we’re not counting beer). We had gone to a chocolate shop/factory where I ate too many chocolate covered peanut butter filled pretzles, but that’s not real mid-America fare is it? Well, maybe it is…
On our last day in Missouri, we finally got down to the good bits and went out of our way to eat at Arthur Bryant’s. We had heard it was some of the best bbq in Kansas City, and perhaps the great state, so we decided to munch it out for ourselves. I prepped myself with a massive first meal so I’d be ready for a hearty lunch. The reasoning works in my head, okay? Breakfast for myself included oatmeal with peaches, a BLT (with homemade bacon and appenzell cheese) a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a creme brulee stout beer. Excessive maybe. But I was about to go above and beyond for lunch.
We arrived after an hour and a half of speedy driving and a few karaoke moments shared with R. Kelly. Brook walked right up to the cashier and ordered beef brisket, a pulled pork sandwich, burnt ends, beans and a plate of fries. He’s a pro. He’s done this before. I, on the other hand, stood at the window, gaping, as the sandwich assembler lifted a door behind him. He shone a light into the pit and illuminated a bevy of beautiful roasts, smoking away over a massive grill. My friend nudged me in the ribs to make sure I was taking in the full enormity of the situation. I was staring at all sorts of cuts from ribs to shoulders to butts. I momentarily considered launching myself over the counter toward the pit of porky goodness…and then realized there were bank-like glass shields separating me from the sandwich man. They’re probably there in the first place because some fool (with the same foolish thoughts as mine) actually followed through with the ‘grab the pork and run’ idea. Instead, I held my breath and watched as the meat was cut, then basted with a paintbrush dripping with red sauce. I grabbed the three meat laden plates and headed to the cashier to pick up the fries and three 42 oz. cokes. Yes, I said 42 oz. cokes. I think they super sized the McDonald’s super size!
We sat down and tried to share the dishes equally. But that didn’t last long. A free-for-all ensued and I ended up focusing on the burnt ends. I also thoroughly enjoyed the pulled pork, but the beef brisket was a touch dry. Even with the three bbq sauces for backup dippage, the brisket remained my least favorite dish. I crunched a few pickles (neon green, just the way I like) and ate my fare share of fries. They were a stunning accompaniment to the beef. Skins on and thick cut–what more can you ask for from a fry? We ate the meat, the cheap white bread that soaked up the juices and polished off every piece o’ potato. But I couldn’t finish the coke… No room for liquids when there’s that much meat in the mix.
I was full to the maximum. No room to even look at the food magazines that were in the car.
But I did have room for a Venezuelan hot chocolate with house-made marshmallows, and a few pieces of salted caramel chocolates…
What. There’s always room for chocolate!