Some 'Que Worth a Good Queue

How fast I break my own promises. I apologize if you were expecting another snack, but this does fall under the savory category so I'm not completely full of it. In this case, my Sunday night dinner gave me, and all other Chicago immigrants who have yet to find a decent barbecue joint on the Northside, hope of smoked satisfaction. 

I do not crave bbq often, and when I do it usually precedes a trip back to the mecca of smoked meats: Texas. I originally heard of Smoque at the beginning of the year, but over time it had made its way into the depths of my mind along with my musical talent or ability to socialize without a liquid buffer. The knowledge is actually there, I just have to work a bit harder to find it. 

Following a great Saturday of green beer and car bombs, I craved a satiating meal and new stomach lining, thus the idea of Smoque arose. Cajoling my roommates as sweetly as the pints of Guinness the day before, we hopped in the car and drove a bit further than we usually would for dinner on a Sunday evening. 

Since it was a bit late we decided to take our food home with us, but upon purchase I had the opportunity to digest Smoque's atmosphere. I was very impressed! Picnic benches, wax paper, and BYOB to top it off; the trifecta of a great barbecue joint. As I scanned the room, patrons were happily enjoying their sausage, pulled pork, and chopped brisket sandwiches. Simultaneously paired with the aromatic scents coming from our to-go sack, an ear-to-ear grin of gratification appeared on my face. I was not a big fan of the signed pictures on the wall, though. Awards are one thing, but a signed picture of Guy Fieri took something away from the rustic, home-smoked semblance. Although no offense to Mr. Fieri. His show is capital T, Treif.

Before I opened my Styrofoam container I knew that I over-ordered. I did it on purpose. I am quick to judge, and from my intial take I held Smoque in high esteem. One full slab of St. Louis Style ribs, mac and cheese, and an order of french fries. I was giddy! Albeit not a Texas staple, the ribs were very juicy and lean. When paired up against the home-made, tangy barbecue sauce, it was spicy and satisfying without being as filling as the baby-back variety.

Along with the fries and mac, my order was accompanied by a vinegar-based (not creamy) coleslaw. It wasn't anything to write home about, but it was refreshing. The mac and cheese was rich and gooey, but the entire serving lasted 3 bites. Very unfortunate. My french fries were awash with salt and grease making the brown sack they were situated in practically transparent. Specifically, the best type of fries to be enjoyed with an extra container of bbq sauce which was conveniently provided.

In general, I was pleased with my order and look forward to venturing to 3800 North Pulaski in the future. Smoque fell short of my favorite establishment, Sonny Bryan's, but it fed my growing desire to eat my way through Chicago's entire food offerings, at least twice.

One final thought. As I licked the sauce off my fingers and felt the increasing need to floss, I recalled the Simpsons episode when Homer hosts a neighborhood barbecue amid Lisa's fleeting Vegetarian hopes. As with all Simpsons episodes from the 1990s, hilarity ensues. I couldn't find a good clip of the 'BBYOBB' typo, but I thought this was an applicable substitute. This should be the new slogan for "The Unvegan"...