Classic Meets Contemporary Barbecue

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The passion Canadian barbecue operators have for their craft is as discernable as the luscious aroma their in-house meat smokers produce. While their wood-burning pit — the heart of any true barbecue restaurant — pumps out a rich, smoky smell of slow-cooked meats, barbecue restaurateurs loudly and proudly praise the “cue.”

The restaurant-going public are also intrigued by traditional barbecue. “What draws customers to it is the idea of it being authentic,” says Aimee Harvey, editor at Chicago-based Technomic, a research firm serving the foodservice industry. “People barbecue at home, but when they go out to eat they want real barbecue flavour. This is actual slow cooking in the restaurant.”

In B.C., barbecue enthusiasts are drawn to the Memphis Blues Barbeque House, a Vancouver-based chain. George Siu, owner and chef of Memphis Blues, is a traditionalist and has no time for chefs who do frou-frou barbecue. “A lot of people want to mess it up,” barks the pit boss whose brand produces pulled-pork sandwiches ($8.75 to $9.95), sliced beef brisket ($17.95) and barbecued ribs ($26.95, full rack) with sides such as corn bread, beans and coleslaw. “People chef it up, because they believe if you don’t have a menu change within a year, you’re not moving forward. Wrong. Some segments need to be left alone,” adds the chef who also has a line of Memphis Blues retail barbecue sauces. “It is what it is. We want to capture the segment, and when you think southern barbecue, I want you to think of Memphis Blues.”  

But, on the other hand, fanciful southern barbecue can also turn a profit. “That’s exactly what we’re trying to do,” says David Neinstein, co-owner and executive chef of Toronto’s Barque Smokehouse. “Our last catering job had smoked-brisket tacos, pulled-duck tacos and an oyster bar with a dedicated shucker, and we served wine and champagne.” He’s proud Barque events stand out from the crowd and aren’t like places where “they cook 30 racks of ribs and serve beer out of a pump-keg with red-checker tablecloths.”

Neinstein’s brigade is comprised of cooking-school grads who are encouraged to flex their culinary muscles within the category. “It’s taking classic cuisine and putting a modern twist to it,” he says, beaming. With a chit average of $40, the 65-seater abides by the sauce-on-the-side-and-nothing-to-hide philosophy, a catchphrase borrowed from Pappy’s BBQ menu in St. Louis, Mo. “The meat should speak for itself,” adds Neinstein.

Creating what he calls, “a refined barbecue experience,” Neinstein has taken traditional barbecue cuisine and added more cooking technique in a family friendly environment. Whether you call it refined or the better-barbecue segment, Barque’s upper-scale position is based on a pilgrimage he embarked on years ago. “I travelled across the U.S. and the barbecue gulf, from Houston, Texas to Salem, N.C., and I’ve chosen the best from each region, creating an amalgam, which is the Barque style. There’s no regionally specific style here.”

But, Neinstein respects differing views on barbecue. “They’re protecting a trend-tested method of cooking and a cultural way of eating. But I believed the way I was going to stand out was to push the fold a little bit,” he says. “We’ve banned macaroni and cheese from our menu, we don’t do baked beans — our closest bean dish is the equivalent of a pasta fagioli,” he explains. And, despite the scorn of old-style barbecue fanatics, he offers — are you ready? — vegetarian food. “We always offer vegetarian options to guests. We want people to eat barbecue but also find dishes that are on the lighter side.” Such options include sautéed kale with garlic ($5), pickled vegetables ($5), mixed greens salad ($5), sage and smoked provolone pasta ($5), caesar salad ($10) and crushed potatoes ($5). “The lightness is a real factor — traditional barbecue can get heavy, and it discourages repeat visitors on a regular basis,” he says.

But, when it comes to meat, Dylan Kier, chef and owner of the 30-seat Blackstrap BBQ in Montreal, differentiated himself locally by offering the saucy bilingual city his Memphis style dry-rub cooking (see “Regional Shakedown p. 20”). “Everything else here was very sauce-driven,” he says. And, the innovation has paid off — he’s enjoying brisk business. “It got really busy, really quickly,” he recalls. “We had one barbecue pit, and a few weeks after opening we had to order a second one. I had to double our capacity, because we kept running out of food before closing time.” With an average chit of $22 to $24, and three or four dining-room flips on busy nights, Keir is investing in his business. “We’ve put in a lot of effort to make sure the food is high quality, and we’re getting a return on that.”

His rubs, which took months to perfect, were conceived to showcase the flavour of the meat first. “The pork rub took a while to create. I made six different rubs for six different pork butts, and I tasted them all after they were done,” he says, describing his process. Months later, Kier narrowed it down. “If I liked two particular rubs, I’d combine them and make a new rub and then make six variations on that. It took me over 120 pork butts,” he explains, recalling his treasured recipes.

Kier’s Burnt-ends Poutine ($10) offers another variation on a classic dish. “I wanted to do something for Quebec, so we take burnt brisket ends, and we put them on classic poutine. Then we make a traditional Quebec poutine sauce, but we use brisket drippings, so it’s really intense — people are going crazy for it,” Kier says. “That’s my fusion dish: Quebec-Memphis fusion,” he laughs.

The good news is barbecue attracts guests seeking comfort food, even if it is highly indulgent. “Diners accept that when you go to a barbecue joint you’re going to eat baby back ribs, corn bread and things that are filling,” says Technomic’s Harvey.

It’s that indulgence and the simplicity of the menu that attracts foodservice folk to Memphis Blues. “It’s funny — a lot of chefs are drawn to this. A lot of industry people eat here and they say, ‘I’m tired of using tweezers for 12 hours to put a piece of parsley on a plate. I want to sit here, get some beer and plough into brisket and ribs,’” explains Siu.

But, whether the food is traditional or contemporary, the barbecue segment has its challenges, especially given high meat and poultry prices (Memphis Blues’ food cost is 38 per cent), the price of wood and the capital cost of an authentic smoker ($7,000 to $30,000). And, in Vancouver, Siu grapples with cooking meat in a large vegetarian market. “People want us to offer more vegetarian dishes, which is ridiculous because I’m not smoking a carrot,” says the owner who still brings in between $7 and $8 million annually at his six stores. “I don’t go to a vegetarian restaurant and demand they serve me meat.”

But while traditional barbecue will always remain, there’s room for further market innovation as evidenced at Barque and Blackstrap. In the future, more flavour profiles will be brought to the forefront. “We’ll start to see more of an ethnic push towards barbecue,” Technomic’s Harvey predicts. “Korean, maybe Hawaiian-style, Caribbean, and these will be accented with different flavoured sauces. Barbecue sauce is a platform in the same way mayonnaise can be, so we’ll see different flavour accents — for instance, a mango barbecue or a cherry barbecue or chipotle-pepper barbecue sauce.”

Either way, moving forward, Siu will continue to serve classic, simple barbecue. “Don’t add foie gras to it, don’t do the truffle-oil thing,” insists the Memphis Blues’ chef. “That’s our opinion anyway — we’re purists.” 

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