Big Apple Sauce

About a week ago my lady friend and I were in New York. Knowing we had recently spent ten days scouring the mid-south for great BBQ, some friends suggested we visit Blue Smoke and compare notes. Blue Smoke is Manhattan's hot barbeque joint, founded by upscale restaurateur (is there any other kind in Manhattan?) Danny Meyer. The spot has been around a little over 3 years and has developed a something of a following among those poor sauce deprived rat-racers stuck on the Big Island. The reviews from the press have been mixed, and my own experience mirrors those of the experts. I wasn't in full review mode (i.e. I can't tell you whether the beef ribs were supple as opposed to hearty) but here are some general impressions:

I'm working on some Basic Rules of BBQ, which I'll post here at some point, but I think number 1 would be, "Restaurant May Not Have A Pastry Chef." If you wanna offer some of Gramma's homemade pies, that's one thing, but come on now. Number two would be, "One Should Never Have to Spend More Than $20." On this count, Blue Smoke fails pretty miserably. Even accounting for the ridiculous cost of living in Manhattan, this was an expensive meal. Money is no object, however - really, I have no physical money - so let's proceed. We split a rib sampler among four people, along with a pulled pork platter and a few sides. Being in New York, which has no definitive style of its own, Blue Smoke's shtick is to offer visitors BBQ based on a variety of regional styles. The rib platter, then, consists of Memphis style baby back ribs, "Salt and Pepper" Texas beef ribs, Kansas City pork ribs, and "St. Louis Style" pork spare ribs. I've never seen a reference to St. Louis style before, but Meyer is from the Lou, so I guess he's entitled to give his hometown some shine. Anyway, they were all fine - the Salt and Pepper ribs were especially intriguing, and I'm not usually partial to beef ribs. The pulled pork was a little mushy, a little bland. There is, of course, no such thing as bad pulled pork, but there are many variations of good and great. And this was merely good. We were warned by our dinner companions that the mac and cheese lacked any crust, which turned out to be true. The rest of the sides were certainly enjoyable, with the golf ball sized hush puppies a real standout. (Though they can't touch those from every one's favorite Family Style Restaurant, the Cock of the Walk.)

The atmosphere was, well, lacking. I just can't take a place that pipes classic soft rock through the speakers seriously. On one side of us a herd of expense account management types guffawed, while on the other side a man broke up with his mistress. That was the story we made up, at least. Also, like all other Manhattan spots, our servers looked like casting couch rejects - gaunt and hollow eyed from a lifestyle that demands late-night frolicking at the expense of, well, sleep and food. This works fine for places like this, and this, but I want my barbeque servers to have some ruddiness in their cheeks and a waddle in their step. Oh, and we had to wait an hour on a Sunday night for a seat. That's another BBQ no-no.

Don't get me wrong, dinner was an incredibly enjoyable experience. Any time I'm eating smoked pork, I'm doing so with a smile on my face. And the company, it goes without saying, was witty, well-read, and in at least two cases, extremely beautiful. Still, for more than $50 a head, I better be getting a dub sack of some Green Smoke with my ribs.