Mount Rushmore honors some of our past presidents. Why not a Mount something somewhere to honor the folks who played key roles introducing that great American dish, Barbecue, to the masses. A sort of Barons of Barbecue.
Whose profiles should be on that high altitude tribute?
In no particular order, I'd start with Arthur Bryant who gained fame in Kansas City and told President Carter that "Bryant's don't make no house calls; Big Jim Neely in Memphis who cleaned up a bad neighborhood and draws crowds with his barbecue; Big Daddy Bishop in Tuscaloosa who made barbecue a "must meal;" after every Alabama game - ribs, just ribs on sliced white bread, that's it; Big John Robinson who put Peoria on the barbecue map with his secret sauce "made back in the woods," and now we'd add Jamie Lee Curtis, another bigger than life personality who made his passion, great barbecue, profitable
Fifteen minutes off the main highway, on a county road past sprawling fields dotted with lakes and hundreds heads of cattle, is the Alabama Rib Shack in suburban (read: rural) Gainesville, Alabama. The sign says, "From the South to your mouth."
JamieLee Curtis built it himself. Literally. Why? Because the bank wouldn't loan him the money. What he built is the consummate rib shack. Picnic tables out front, and inside, a wood paneled restaurant with door sized posters of some of Curtis' favorite musicians (everyone from Howlin' Wolf to Miles Davis), to a line of cowboy hats, saddles and, over the ordering counter, a huge bell that could likely be heard for miles.
As JameLee (everyone, he says, calls him that it's one word) puts it, "a barbecue haven with generous portions and a scenic weeping willow seating," and the man is telling the truth. The barbecue is not good; it's very good. And to th point, where some "barbecue joints" really grill their meat, nothing at Curtis' Alabama Rib Shack is ever touched by flame. Smoked. Smoked (low and slow) all the way through. The way barbecue was meant to be cooked. No par boiling, no ovens, no grills - just low and slow in a thick smokey fog.
The St. Louis cut ribs (with certifiable red smoke ring) are outstanding. Nice char, almost candied. Bite to get it off the bone (a sure sign the ribs weren't oven baked, grilled, or hadn't spent hours slow cooking under a warming lamp). The chicken, like the ribs , also exceptional. Moist and with a full smoke flavor. The homemade sausage was great. The pulled pork came in a heaping amount atop a king sized bun, moist but a tad short of the fat that captures the smoke (20% pecan, 80% white oak according to the blackboard).
Didn't try the smoked ox tails, jerk chicken, baby back or Texas ribs (special rub). And they were out of rib tips (drat, read great reviews about them).
The sides, boast JamieLee, are all homemade and all that we sampled (generous portions of potato salad, slaw, mac-n-cheese and baked beans) served up in brightly colored ceramic cups were full flavor, outstanding. Cornbread, also homemade, also very good. They were out of collards which, you've got to figure, probably would have also been very good.
There's a bar and, by the way, this being Alabama, if you want moonshine, they've got it. Kool-aid? They've got it.
Best of all, brace yourself, they've got Royal Crown soda (didn't see any moon pies to go with my RC). And tee-shirts.
The place is neat, crisp, clean, family run. But there's bad news: the bar is open every day, but the barbecue side is only open Saturdays and Sundays. Worth a weekend drive, enjoy great barbecue under sprawling weeping willows , all overseen by a Boston hairdresser who, the story goes, decided to hang up his scissors to come back home and do that which he loves most: make world class barbecue (and chat with everyone who comes through the door).
Five stars and a place on The Mount for JamieLee, alongside Big Daddy (Tuscaloosa), Big John (Peoria), Big Jim (Memphis) and Arthur (Kansas City. read more