Courage—or perhaps optimism—may be defined as eating barbecue while wearing white, which we recently did at a new, noteworthy barbecue joint.
Expat BBQ spans three floors of City Foundry STL, a former brake rotor factory. The interior is all concrete, sharp edges, and massive iron beams. It’s Industrial Brutalism meets Blade Runner. One three-story wall is festooned in nostalgic travel posters; others feature artwork of monkeys doing unnatural things. Private dining “bunkers” are a creative touch.
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Expat is a Gerard Craft production, so one expects, well, the unexpected. It’s barbecue, yes. The definition, though, is somewhat fluid. Sure, brisket’s on the menu, for instance. Here, though, it’s dressed with a chipotle adobo after having been rubbed with a Yucatecan concoction that beguiles your palate with cumin, oregano, and chilies. The accompanying dip, a beautifully tangy avocado salsa verde, takes the brisket to another place entirely.
There are also standard barbecue sides, such as cheese macaroni—only Expat’s version tosses smoked jalapeño in the mix, along with nibbles of fried chicken skin, topped with breadcrumbs flavored with Puebla’s signature mole poblano. Baked beans? Yes, there are densely flavored black beans with fine-chopped Cantonese lap cheong sausage and black vinegar, which adds an intense, concentrated acidity.
There are culinary borders, and good chefs come close to them. Excellent chefs go right up next to those borders and stay there. A single step over, and what could have been an inspired creation just becomes pretentious and silly. Here, dishes flirt with the outrageously novel but never slip into the absurd. Dibs a-rumman marinating Expat’s lamb shoulder? We get it; the best translation is “pomegranate molasses,” a Persian elixir that’s perfect with lamb. Add in a rub of coriander, cloves, cardamom, and cumin, and you’re wondering if things aren’t tilting out of control. As one diner put it, “No lamb ever had a more delicious funeral.”
Crusted finely with berbere—a redolent perfumed Ethiopian rub of chile, coriander, and cloves—the skin of a Beer Can Chicken is utterly delectable and fragrant. The chicken is smoked using mead, a classic German method with sausage that lends a mellow note to the chicken. The breast is slightly dry; the leg and thigh are absolutely succulent, juicy, and rich with flavor.
Expat deserves credit for serving a picanha steak, a Brazilian cut that’s rarely seen in the U.S. With a luscious fat cap, the meat wonderfully transforms on the grill—think of a particularly tender ribeye with a much richer taste. The accompanying chimichurri sauce is delicious but almost unnecessary; the steak is that good.
The mostaccioli is like you’ve never dreamed. The dish is made with pasta supplied by Pastaria, tossed with a smoked mushroom Pomodoro, and decorated with fontina and a béchamel sauce. (Now that’s a St. Louis wedding meal.) We tried a pulled pork sandwich spiked with Vietnamese spices, along with a Memphis-style vinegary slaw and a “hogwarsh” barbecue sauce that rivals that city’s best.
Sides, such as the aforementioned mac and cheese, and plump buns of pan de queso with honey butter, are rewarding. We were impressed with a Japanese sunomono-style salad of grilled, chopped cucumbers dressed with tahini, and served chilled.
The beer selection’s also one of those signature unexpected felicities. It’s like a world tour of brew. In addition to some fine local brews on draft, there’s an astonishing lineup of bottles and cans: Ethiopian and Danish pilsners, a Chinese black lager, a Nicaraguan cerveza. Of particular note: a creamy Belgian “Tokyo” witbier and a wine-yeast-brewed Anxo cider with just the right bite for barbecue.
Expat’s space is ambitious and slightly unusual. The ground floor houses the main restaurant. Go upstairs, and you’re in a room dominated by Godzilla-size tanks that once held sand for the brake rotor molds. The tables are widely spaced—it’s an ideal venue for parties. Go up another set of stairs, and you’re in a terrace with indoor and outdoor tables and seating, the latter overlooking the whole City Foundry area. It’s heated in the winter, with stupendous views of sunset. There’s also a sculpture dominating the third-floor foyer because, hey, what barbecue joint is complete without a life-size cement pink elephant? Food on the third floor is delivered (through an ingenious conveyor belt) fast-food style, with a sign indicating your order’s ready. Drinks come from a spacious wrap-around bar.
We emerged from Expat with our clothes unstained but our palates spattered with enough sensations to transform the barbecue scene in St. Louis.
