JOE'S KC BBQ

Anthony Bourdain spoke, and I listened. Several things come to mind when I'm trekking across the country: weather, scenic drives, natural wonders, logistics, friends’ locations, food, wine, and, well, more food. In researching routes from Northern California to Raleigh, North Carolina, I came across an article written by the guru of culinary discoveries, 13 PLACES TO EAT BEFORE YOU DIE. Joe’s Kansas City BBQ in Kansas, not Missouri, was on that list, and my body inside my car was driving right passed it. Woooo Hoooo!

Living in Austin, Texas for several years, I had grown accustomed to some of the tastiest BBQ on the planet. The perfectly smoked brisket, the sweet and spicy sauce, sawdust floors, hole-in-the-wall joints, sweaty pit masters, icy cold brown beer, and lines out the door, Texas is a playground for any BBQ enthusiast. 

My driving path led me right through Kansas City. The only place I wanted to visit was this BBQ place. It was near my hotel, planned, of course.  Anticipating the meal on the eight-hour drive, my appetite took over, and a famished feeling overtook me. The GPS shouted at me that I had reached my destination, but I could not see any signage. A glance in all directions, I noticed a lot of parked cars. I must be in the right spot, I thought. Finding a spot on the edge of the street, I followed the people in front of me like a tired, hungry little lamb. We all wound around to the front of what looked like a gas station and there it was, a long ass line. The neon lights fell over us, accentuating our already blue skin from the cold. Looking to the sky, I saw the words in a green glow spell out J.O.E.S. Yassss, BBQ soon to be in my tummy…maybe. The line snaked around the corner of the building, the crisp air filled with smokey goodness, and a stomach filled with hunger pangs, my body filled another spot amongst the crowd.

Onion rings, pulled pork sandwich, and coleslaw were the recommended order. The repetition of the menu items kept my mind warm, and counting them on my fingers kept my hands from numbing. About 40 minutes later, I slipped into the first doorway, hoping they would not run out of food. The smell was unbearable as my stomach was engrossed in cartwheels. My ears perked up as little phrases and statements cemented the greatness that was soon to be bestowed before me. My eyes caught the beer menu, and to my surprise and utter satisfaction, Shiner Bock was listed. If this BBQ was not any good, at least I would have a beloved Texas staple of dark brown brew. Joe had a tremendous task at hand to prove to a loyal Texas BBQ fan that his was just as good or better. The space was filled with humorous sayings, BBQ paraphernalia, neon beer signs, and a well-fed pig sign. The smells were driving me crazy as I anticipated taking my first bite. Holy crap! The meat was perfectly smoked, tender, juicy, and danced with the Kansas-style thick, sweet, and tangy BBQ sauce that I doused over the meat and bun. The creamy coleslaw dripped onto the meat and bun, adding a textural crunch underneath the ultra-soft meat. The onion rings were lightly fried in a batter that tasted like beer butter. The round layers of onion were neither thick nor thin, they were just the right ratio of batter to vegetable. As I swigged the last drops of the Shiner Bock, I was delighted with my culinary find. I wondered what else the great Anthony Bourdain had in store for me and if I would get the chance to play with his Thirteen Places to Eat Before You Die list. What an excellent experience for my mind, body, and belly. It was so damn good that I went back a second time on another road trip cross country making sure my path would lead me here again. I learned the second time that instead of just standing in line getting hangry, you could order a beer from the counter and savor it as you waited for its perfect accompaniment, the best BBQ in the country.