One of the tragedies of my youth was that while spending time in Kansas City I was unaware of Arthur Bryant's barbecue joint. Since then Bryant's has been made famous by Calvin Trillin, who writes mouth-wateringly of the restaurant, especially the burnt edges of brisket, which Bryant's leaves out on the counter for free. So I was delighted to learn a local place called Tennessee's was serving burnt ends, even though you had to pay for them.
Tennessee's plays the barbecue theme with many variations. There are more options than you can shake a fork at: platters with cucumber salad, beans, cornbread, and watermelon; big plates with a choice of three sides and cornbread; assorted combos; and all manner of buckets. And just for good measure, burritos are thrown into the mix.
The restaurant's interior is cheerfully garish, the walls adorned with pig jokes and puns and a large mural of pigs eating barbecue - porcine cannibalism I'd rather not think too much about. Tennessee's is geared to takeout, and on one visit our food was ready instantly, another involved a wait. You can eat there, too, if you can stand loud music. Sensibly for a barbecue place, rolls of paper towels substitute for napkins.
A sausage appetizer ($4.50) was of the smoky kielbasa/andouille type. If you top it with the accompanying mustard, it might as well be a hot dog. More satisfying were the apple-smoked wings ($5.95) - plump, well-spiced "drumettes."
The long-anticipated burnt ends (a platter for $7.95) were a disappointment. Whereas Bryant's were a happy accident, Tennessee's are by design cut into neat little cubes and swimming in sauce that obliterates the burnt crunchiness.
A dry-rubbed Memphis ribs plate ($7.50, $10.50, $17.95) was more to our liking, with ribs that were lean and wonderfully smoky, worthy of their designation as the restaurant's signature dish. Baby back ribs (same prices) were equally good. The difference is the Memphis ribs are meatier, what the supermarket calls country style.
Beef ribs are too often all bone and no meat, but Tennessee's newest item, the Texas beef ribs plate ($8.95, $15.95), had plenty of meat, cooked to falling-off-the-bone tenderness.
A beef brisket platter ($7.95) contained tender meat that was less permeated by the smoke. Dixie chicken ($6.95, $11.95) is billed as smoked for five hours, and ours had dried out in the process.
North Carolina pulled pork (a special at $8.25) was tender shreds of meat in a vinegary sauce. Tennessee's usual pulled pork platter ($7.95) features equally tender meat in a sweeter sauce.
A Caribbean burrito ($5.25) was stuffed full with chicken, rice, black beans, guacamole, and sour cream, all blending with lime juice for a sweet-and-sour effect.
Side orders come with some meals and are available as extras for varying prices. The beans were the appropriate barbecue style, runny here and there with a bit of green pepper. Dirty rice was rich and peppery. Collard greens were fresh-tasting and also peppery. The baked sweet potato we tried was overdone. Cole slaw was a pleasing variation, match-stick julienned cabbage with a vinegary dressing. Cucumber salad had imperially slim slices and was cool as a . . .. It made the perfect foil for some of the spicier items.
Speaking of spices, you won't find much heat in the meat unless you add one of the sauces on the table, three-little-piggily named (from mild to hot) Strawhouse, Woodhouse, and Brickhouse. Brickhouse is sneakily spicy: You don't notice it's hot until your temples become moist. If you're getting takeout be sure to ask for extra or buy a bottle.
Lone Star beer ($2.25) goes well with all of the above, and if you really have room for dessert, try the fruit cobbler ($2.50).
Finally, if Tennessee's reminds you of Boston Market, there's a reason. Owner and pit master Steve Uliss has emulated the chicken chain and hopes to expand. He's on his way, starting with a Boston restaurant, then a branch in Framingham and, most recently, Peabody.
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