Last Night
Uncle Mike's Barbecue
Do you have a car, a bus pass, or legs? Do you have a set of functioning taste buds?
Then get down to Uncle Mike's Barbecue in White Center, stat. Trust me, you need this barbecue. (This goes for you, too, vegans, as you'll see in a moment).
For a Texan, of course, barbecue inspires a level of fetishism matched only by Stetson cowboy hats and big silver belt buckles. And Uncle Mike's barbecue is easily the equal of the best BBQ joint in many Texas cities, and even rivals hole-in-the-wall places in towns and on byways from Lampasas to Laredo. Better still, the sides---often an afterthought, or entirely absent, at the kind of places that serve their pork ribs and brisket on slabs of butcher paper beside piles of thick white sandwich bread---are better than those you'll find at meat n' threes across the South.
The pork ribs, available as a half-pound with two sides ($12), a half-pound a la carte ($8), or as part of a combo platter, are smoky, beautifully pink inside, and, yes, falling off the bone. The ribs are bathed lightly (not drowning) in a choice of mild, medium, or spicy sauce, and I'm happy to say that the spicy sauce lives up to its name without the cloying sweetness of other so-called "authentic" barbecue sauces I could name (cough, Jones, cough).
The side of greens (called, simply, "greens") is vegetarian but doesn't suffer from the lack of porcine fortification---the collards, cooked within an inch of their life, are salty, vinegary, and peppery with the addition of an obligatory splash of Tabasco sauce---the Platonic ideal of greens, what greens want to be when they grow up.
Red beans and rice are somewhat less successful---the rice, short-grain, is clumped together in the shape of the ice-cream cone that scooped it out. (Rice for red beans and rice, for the record, should be long-grain and dry, to facilitate mixing). The beans are the perfect creamy texture, but they lack the andouille punch of true New Orleans red beans and rice, and they need about a tablespoon of Tabasco to achieve the ideal bland-spicy equilibrium. The corn muffin, however, is just what a Southern corn muffin should be: More cupcake than cornbread, moist and sweet and just the right texture to crumble up in the pot likker remaining in the bowl after the greens are gone.
In the tuber family, fries, of all things, are thickly hand-cut and just greasy enough to cut through the spiciness of the barbecue sauce, coated liberally with crunchy salt. And the yams, though not my thing (I prefer my dessert as dessert, thank you, not labeled a "vegetable") are a candied-yam-lover's dream: Drowning in butter and brown sugar, caramelized on top, and perfectly tender.
Back to the vegan options. I didn't try the plain barbecued tofu ($8), or the portabello salad ($10), or the "Queen's Delight" (smoked mushroom and eggplant sandwich, $8), but based on the barbecue tofu sandwich ($8)---served on soft French bread with a thin-sliced grilled portabello mushroom, grilled onions and peppers, and an optional (though highly recommended) barbecue aioli---I would recommend both highly, sight unseen.
As with the best barbecue joints, I couldn't manage much more on one visit, and what I did try, I wanted to keep to myself. Next time, I'll try the brisket ($10) ... or the barbecue beef ribs ($11)... or the barbecued chicken ($10). Or all of them, on the combo platter ($17).
Uncle Mike's is open daily, except Mondays, from 11 am to 9 pm. 9640 16th Ave. SW
Then get down to Uncle Mike's Barbecue in White Center, stat. Trust me, you need this barbecue. (This goes for you, too, vegans, as you'll see in a moment).
For a Texan, of course, barbecue inspires a level of fetishism matched only by Stetson cowboy hats and big silver belt buckles. And Uncle Mike's barbecue is easily the equal of the best BBQ joint in many Texas cities, and even rivals hole-in-the-wall places in towns and on byways from Lampasas to Laredo. Better still, the sides---often an afterthought, or entirely absent, at the kind of places that serve their pork ribs and brisket on slabs of butcher paper beside piles of thick white sandwich bread---are better than those you'll find at meat n' threes across the South.
The pork ribs, available as a half-pound with two sides ($12), a half-pound a la carte ($8), or as part of a combo platter, are smoky, beautifully pink inside, and, yes, falling off the bone. The ribs are bathed lightly (not drowning) in a choice of mild, medium, or spicy sauce, and I'm happy to say that the spicy sauce lives up to its name without the cloying sweetness of other so-called "authentic" barbecue sauces I could name (cough, Jones, cough).
The side of greens (called, simply, "greens") is vegetarian but doesn't suffer from the lack of porcine fortification---the collards, cooked within an inch of their life, are salty, vinegary, and peppery with the addition of an obligatory splash of Tabasco sauce---the Platonic ideal of greens, what greens want to be when they grow up.
Red beans and rice are somewhat less successful---the rice, short-grain, is clumped together in the shape of the ice-cream cone that scooped it out. (Rice for red beans and rice, for the record, should be long-grain and dry, to facilitate mixing). The beans are the perfect creamy texture, but they lack the andouille punch of true New Orleans red beans and rice, and they need about a tablespoon of Tabasco to achieve the ideal bland-spicy equilibrium. The corn muffin, however, is just what a Southern corn muffin should be: More cupcake than cornbread, moist and sweet and just the right texture to crumble up in the pot likker remaining in the bowl after the greens are gone.
In the tuber family, fries, of all things, are thickly hand-cut and just greasy enough to cut through the spiciness of the barbecue sauce, coated liberally with crunchy salt. And the yams, though not my thing (I prefer my dessert as dessert, thank you, not labeled a "vegetable") are a candied-yam-lover's dream: Drowning in butter and brown sugar, caramelized on top, and perfectly tender.
Back to the vegan options. I didn't try the plain barbecued tofu ($8), or the portabello salad ($10), or the "Queen's Delight" (smoked mushroom and eggplant sandwich, $8), but based on the barbecue tofu sandwich ($8)---served on soft French bread with a thin-sliced grilled portabello mushroom, grilled onions and peppers, and an optional (though highly recommended) barbecue aioli---I would recommend both highly, sight unseen.
As with the best barbecue joints, I couldn't manage much more on one visit, and what I did try, I wanted to keep to myself. Next time, I'll try the brisket ($10) ... or the barbecue beef ribs ($11)... or the barbecued chicken ($10). Or all of them, on the combo platter ($17).
Uncle Mike's is open daily, except Mondays, from 11 am to 9 pm. 9640 16th Ave. SW
