Classic Southern BBQ in the north shore

Through a series of calendar mix-ups, Ally and I thought we were going to downtown Chicago this weekend for a visit to the Field Museum of Natural History for research for my Ancient Cultures class. Turns out those mummies on display are going to have to wait - what's another week for them? Museum visits are exciting cultural forays into a city and the world that you hope to touch beyond those neo-classical walls. The restaurant we had hoped to visit thereafter (Berghoff or DeCero) will have to wait for another blog and a fatter wallet. 

I find that when I do my searches for places that I am dying to try, the adventure moves along much like when I walk into a record store or pop open ITunes – what the hell did I want to buy in the first place? I amble along, struggling for some time with my apparent short-term memory plaguing me. Truthfully this blog has been a great excuse for my writing about culinary adventures by experiencing new restaurants. The factors were and still are how limited my funds are, how brutal the wind chill was last night and how far I was willing to drive Ally and I from our apartment in Southern Arlington Heights. After a search at several places online and being revolted by their prices, my friend and brother’s fiancé Heather tossed a great recommendation my way.

With the exception of those stingy vegans (only kind of kidding) and adamant vegetarians (lots of love, actually), most of us carnivores love a good BBQ. Be it the St Louis or Memphis style dry rub, the Kansas City sweet sauce, the Texas and Carolina tangy and sharp sauce, all of these regions can agree that slowly smoking meats with various techniques brings about a half hour of heaven to a hungry customer. I was bent on visiting Smoque in Chicago, just beyond Irving Park Rd. Instead I took Ally’s lead, from Heather’s suggestion, and we went to Highland Park and Real Urban BBQ on Central Ave. 

Highland Park contains many memories for me, from my childhood running around in the open square to catching a movie at either the art house theater or the hole-in-the-wall four-screen movie theater built in the late 1920’s. The recent dusting of four inches of snow turned a bi-polar winter/Spring into an uninviting landscape. Meandering through the streets of downtown Highland Park as streetlights automatically flickered on with the fading sun, I took a wrong turn and found that I brought us straight to Real Urban BBQ. 

The chalk menus, odd in their reminiscence of what one would find at a Pot Bellys, displayed at least 18 feet wide of barbeque treats and the associated side dishes. As I expected Ally went for the pulled pork. We agreed to share an order of burnt ends while I ordered a half-slab of St Louis style dry rubbed ribs. All meats were presented on long rectangular cookie trays covered with wax paper with white bread and a few slices of sweet pickles. As we stood privy to the head line cook chewing out fellow cooks and servers for giving away one entire order to the wrong customer (a loss of $50), I realized that though stress is normal to the line like with a classroom, try your best to not berate employees in front of customers who look away for feeling awkward. After choosing sides of mediocre coleslaw, a decent cranberry cobbler, and some excellent corn bake, we sat down for a feast that cost us 40 dollars. 

We had come in at the right time because the line went out the door. Much to my liking, each table had a converted six pack into a sauce guide. The four sauces we thoroughly tried were Piedmont (Carolina tangy), M=3 (3 mustards and vinegar), Texas Road House (southwest spicy), and Original Kansas City (medium balanced sauce). The rib meat was not as tender as I would have liked, and the spice didn’t grab me as much as something I could do. What did reach me was the flavor of pure pork meat that still remained with a decent smoke ring. Ally’s pulled pork with the Texas BBQ sauce was what it should be – delicious velvety meat that dissolved in the mouth. Our personal favorite was the large square of burnt ends. Real Urban’s versions are a cross between pulled pork and the burnt flavor of the skin and spice from the outside of the pork. I relished the melting quality of the meat when chewed, along with the great variety of sauces that when poured on offered a swirling ocean of what have become traditional American flavors. 

Along with a glass bottle of coke that I popped the top off next to the register, and a requisite glass jar of tea for Ally, the experience was a decent substitute for the day when I drive down to St Louis, Kansas City and Memphis in the future. The old Highland Park movie theater experience was a great trip through nostalgia, which I will share with you all in a future blog of movie house reviews. For now, pay a visit to either Smoque or Real Urban BBQ, or your local highly reputable BBQ joint to cure those morose longings for summertime.