'Cue Queue

You'd never know it from the weather we've been having, but the word on the street is that summer is headed our way soon. And in my neighborhood, that means barbecue season will soon be upon us.

Before getting the grill ready (and trying out some of the newer offerings around town), I thought I might look for some inspiration from the source: in this case, Lexington, North Carolina. Who knows, I might even claim this blog as a business, get lucky with the I.R.S., and write off my trip there as a tax deduction.

I've been thinking about Lexington barbecue since last summer, when a brief trip to Charlotte (and the amazing Bill Spoon's Barbecue there) left me wishing I had the time to explore further: namely, the North Carolina Barbecue Society's Historic Barbecue Trail. For those of you unfamiliar with this particular slice of pork pit pleasure, North Carolina barbecue consists almost entirely of the shoulder, although you can get different parts of the shoulder depending on the joint (no pun intended), and your tastes.

This year, I went to Greensboro and managed to check out four of the Trail's 25 spots (pictures here).

First on the list was Little Richard’s Bar-B-Que, in Winston. As it seems to be the case with a lot of other prominent 'cue joints in the area, Little Richard's shares its name with several other restaurants, none of which have anything to do with each other. It's probably a bit like the whole Patsy's pizza thing in New York, except that the Little Richard in question here apparently has an unfortunate tendency to fall asleep at the switch and burn his joint down every so often.

That's not quite what happened on my trip, but the heat could have probably used a little taming nonetheless. We ordered our 'cue chopped coarse, which I hoped would lead to a moister meat. Unfortunately, no such luck; the bland dip (a more watery, slightly vinegary take on barbecue sauce) was no help, but the cole slaw (vinegar-based in these parts of the country) was truly extraordinary. Crisp, sharp, tangy, and slightly herb-y, it might just make me reconsider mayo-based cole slaw for my next picnic. They also had some delightful onion rings, even if they were sliced a bit thick.

Next on the list was Speedy Lohr's, in Arcadia. Though apparently only staffed by 15-year-olds and 65-year-olds, this was definitely the friendliest of the lot (although being friendly in a barbecue joint apparently consists of stopping by every three minutes and asking if you need anything), and offered the best dip: a little molass-y, and a little vinegary. The meat was a little on the non-memorable side, but they did do a nice job of not over-frying the hush puppies. Once other nice touch: the smoking section is at least twice as large as the non-smoking.

We were running a little low on time, so we took out order from The Barbecue Center to go, but not before I snapped a shot of the requisite cannibalistic animal logo. The Center had the moistest meat of the bunch, so I was sorry I didn't stick around. But I had the Lexington Barbecue on my mind, and they didn't disappoint. My two friends who were with me disagreed, but I found the meat here to be the most satisfying, thanks to a strong smokiness that clung to the pork's generous fat. The sauce tasted a bit like it might have been made by the same folks who make that awful Gravy Master stuff, but I found myself somehow liking it anyway, as it added a salty punch (and a modest heat) to all that smoke.

And the best part? The platter, which includes the meat, the slaw, and the side, never cost more than $7,

Little Richard’s Bar-B-Que, Winston-Salem
4885 Country Club Rd.
Winston-Salem, NC 27104
(336) 760-3457

Speedy Lohr’s BBQ of Arcadia
8000 N. Hwy 150 – Enterprise Rd.
Lexington, NC 27295
(336) 764-5509

The Barbecue Center, Inc., Lexington
900 N. Main Street
Lexington, NC 27292
(336) 248-4633

Lexington Barbecue, Lexington
10 Hwy 29-70 South
Lexington, NC 27295
(336) 249-9814

Grand Delusion

Although it's not something that I do all the time, I have an occasional hankering to embark on a truly sadistic food mission. Some of you might recall how this led to my consumption of lamb testicles. Others might have heard my swagger about, at some point, eating balut. But those who know me the best know that my preferred method of joyful self punishment is spicy, spicy food.

Some spicy food, I'll admit, is just a gimmick -- so-called "suicidal" buffalo wings, for instance. Others, like a Thai jungle curry or a vindaloo, really suffer without the heat. And still others seem like a sick joke, but end up becoming a perennial favorite. I put Sichuan hot pot and that last category.

To be honest, I'm inclined to agree with the notion that you can't get a proper Sichuan dish in Manhattan. Once you've had the blissful tongue-numbing chicken salad at Flushing's Spicy and Tasty, for instance, the stuff around Canal Street starts to look a little pale. But there are moments when you don't have it in you to make the two-hour round-trip to the end of the 7 line, and Grand Sichuan (the one in Chinatown, at least) turns out to be a distant but acceptable runner-up.

The main dishes there tend to run about $9, including the twice-cooked pork that our waitress recommended. It was essentially pork belly, scallions, and green bell peppers cooked in chili oil. Although it's certainly hard to mess up pork belly, I was sorry that the dish did not have the distinctive tingle you get from proper Sichuan peppercorns.

The hot pot, on the other hand, did not disappoint.

For those of you who haven't had a Chinese hot pot experience, here is how it basically works. You start with a large pot of broth that remains boiling over a gas burner. Then you put various meats and vegetables in it, let it cook in the broth, and eat the cooked goodies and broth together.

At Grand Sichuan, they give you the option of picking a mild chicken-based broth, or a spicy pepper-based broth. You can even get the two side-by-side. We opted for just the pepper-based broth, to the surprise (and amusement, perhaps) of our waitress, the other waitresses, the other customers, and (most likely) the kitchen staff. We figured that if we were going to go down, we would go down swinging.

What we ended up with was about 2 quarts of bubbling soup spiked with about 50 chili peppers. It looked like someone had just melted a ball of red wax. It looked like stomach cancer in a bowl. It looked like the devil's soul. As soon as I had my first sip of the broth, I knew that I would be facing a serious case of hot hole tomorrow.

But it was worth it. By the time you're half way through the hot pot (they charge you by the topping, by the way -- veggies tend to be under $5, while meet tends to be about $7 -- and two toppings per person is more than enough, even if you're hungry), you start to feel a little high. As we made our way through to dish, we realized that a lot of the pain was not from the spiciness itself, but because the high temperature of the hot pot intensified the spice so that it felt much worse (or much better). I'm pretty sure that, by the end, my body was pumping more endorphins through me than blood.

Grand Sichuan
125 Canal St. @ Bowery just north of the Manhattan Bridge (map)
(212) 625-9212