All the dish: where the food is smokin' and lip-smackin'

Maybe it's the influence of the Clintons' move north, or maybe New Yorkers are simply yearning for greater simplicity, but across the city the unmistakable scent of real southern barbecue--the kind involving wood instead of charcoal and a mysterious apparatus known as a smoker--is wafting through the air. So, just in time for that other barbecue ritual currently being observed in backyards everywhere, here fallow takes on three New York City restaurants where meat is king and smoking is always on the menu.

BLUE SMOKE

116 East 27th St., 212-447-7733

When Danny Meyer, the man behind some of New York City's best-loved restaurants, announced he was turning his formidable skills to the creation of an authentic barbecue joint in Manhattan, people who weren't even fans of smoked meat began tucking napkins into their shirt collars. Meyer is a St. Louis native, home to some of the country's best barbecue, and a perfectionist of long standing, so anticipation was intense. Five months into the restaurant's life, the reaction is far more complex, which points to just how tricky it is to convincingly transport regional cooking from one part of the country to the other. While Blue Smoke is clearly a hit with diners (it's still necessary to reserve weeks in advance) critics have derided everything from the restaurant's hokey urban cowboy decor to the authenticity of its menu, which includes offerings such as smoked foie gras with jalapeno marmalade--hardly the sort of item you'd find at a Tyler, Texas barbecue shack. In fact, it's not bad, nor are less dubious inclusi ons such as deviled eggs or "fry bread." Where Blue Smoke does seem to wheeze slightly, however, is in those all-important meats. While the pulled pork and beef sausages packed a pleasingly smoky punch, the brisket cried out for nothing less than rye bread, mayo and a slice of Bermuda (now that's not authentic), and the baby backs seemed wan and uninspired. The menu makes a strong finish, however, with a mile-wide banana cream pie and a sticky toffee pudding flecked with walnuts and drenched in maple syrup--just the thing to power you through a few sessions at Jazz Standard, the nightclub downstairs.

BUBBY'S PIE CO.

120 Hudson St., 212-219-0666

Bubby's, a family-friendly TriBeCa fixture since 1990, has gone through a variety of identities since it first opened for business. In its latest guise it's been converted into a smokehouse, the fragrant evidence of which drifts daily down the broad expanse of N. Moore Street, not to mention onto the plates of Gotham's eager barbecue hounds. It's a shift in keeping with the restaurant's rough-hewn, home on the million-dollar-range atmosphere. With the installation of a new hardwood smoker in the restaurant's basement, and the addition of a secret vinegar-based barbecue sauce beside the ketchup bottles, Bubby's is quietly earning its stripes as one of the city's best barbecue joints. In what amounts to a kind of grand tour of barbecue hot spots, the restaurant offers meaty St. Louis-style barbecue ribs, thick slabs of Texas-style brisket, and chunks of tangy "Frog Parker" pulled pork--all richly and satisfyingly smoky--as well as an eclectic, only in New York, selection of decidedly un-barbecue-like offerings, such as matzoh ball soup. And, in keeping with the restaurant's name, pies--ample, cloying and best avoided altogether--are also available in varieties from the relatively safe (apple) to the perilous (chocolate peanut butter).

BROTHERS BBQ

225 Varick St., 212-727-2775

Brothers BBQ is the sort of lazy, low-key spot you want to like. With its putty-colored walls and pulley-operated fans, the restaurant comes close to striking just the right sultry, Depression-era tone (its '50s kitsch notwithstanding). Like Virgil's, Brothers' amped-up uptown confrere near Times Square, a meal here is less about the actual experience of rediscovering real Southern barbecue than it is stepping into a fantasy version of it--for a moment you're Warren Beatty in Bonnie and Clyde polishing off a plate of down-home cooking, and for a moment that might be enough. But barbecue aficionados are a notoriously cranky lot, which may explain why recent visits to Brothers revealed the restaurant's clientele to be heavier on office workers bending an elbow at the bar than those looking to scratch their barbecue itch. A sampling of the kitchen's offerings makes it all too clear why. While items like crab cakes or blackened chicken breast are perfectly serviceable, no true connoisseur of smoke would accept th em as anything more than a preamble to true barbecue, a cooking tradition the kitchen either lacks or has forgotten: Ribs here are tough and light on smokehouse flavor, the pulled pork is fatty and the chopped BBQ brisket, so promising-looking on the plate, turns out to be an unappealing pile of meat held together by a sugary barbecue sauce. With coleslaw that tastes like it came from the Blimpie next door, there's not much to redeem Brothers beyond the promise of a cold beer and a little TNT-driven fantasy--personally, I'd rather stay home for both.

COPYRIGHT 2002 Brant Publications, Inc.
COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning