Happy Ending

Fiorella's Jack Stack Barbecue
13441 Holmes Road
Kansas City, Missouri

I arrived, road weary, at the last pork-related stop on my journey on a Thursday evening. All day I'd been passing through the evidence of heavy storms that had swamped the American Midwest's farmland, and seen new crops dipping down below water gathered in low spots in the fields, rows rising again in the distance.

A call to the Kansas City Bullsheet, a KC rag devoted to all things barbecued, and a quick conversation with Ms. Carolyn Wells, who herself was on her way out the door the next day to a barbecue-fest in Des Moines, was all it took to get the lowdown on local mowdowns. She told me about Arthur Bryant's, about Stroud's out in Fairway, but the one seemed to fit me best was Fiorella's. When I say fit me best, I mean was closest at hand, cause by this time of the day (sun up) I was fairly hungry. The praises Ms. Wells sang of their sauce-on pork ribs, cheesy corn bake and crown beef ribs just threw gas on the fire.

Kansas City straddles the lefthand side of Missouri and the righthand side of Kansas, and this comingling of ways comes across on the plate as well. I'd traveled largely through pork country, which was fine by me. In fact, I'd always been a little hurt when Texans of my acquaintance, who are otherwise fine people, would dismiss pork barbecue offhand, like it was a redheaded stepchild. Beef was their bag...and that's cool...to each his own. But KC walks the line, giving equal time to both our four-legged friends, and I have to say I'm a believer.

The place itself was one of the classier joints I'd been in. Paved parking lot, the whole nine yards. Spot on service, and I pretty much reeled off Carolyn's recommendations, and added in a cold beer. Everything showed up in short order. The cheesy bake was sort of a cheesy corn stew with ham, quite thick and rich. The beans as well had shreds of tasty flesh throughout. They never missed a chance to slip in the meat. You can insert your own fifth grade joke here. I'm too classy for that. The pork ribs were indeed saucy and fine, as was the pile of "burnt ends", bits from the outside of the cut which had gotten charred and smokey. But it was the beef ribs that really smacked me around. They were so good, in fact, that I have to admit that the pork kind of sat there on the plate like a homely cousin. The intensity of flavor on these meaty bones was like nothing I've had before or since. It was like "dating" a stripper...or two. For a moment, I forgot the porks of my past. Flavor from the bone and marbling melted through the tender meat of the interior, balanced by a crisp, savory outside. Now I get what Texans are on about. My hand to God, there was unfinished pig on the plate when I walked out the door, all on account of those beef ribs. I felt satiated yet ashamed, like I'd cheated on my first love...though perhaps found another.

Well, I suppose there are many fish in the sea, and I bet if you barbecued them, they'd be pretty damn good, too.