When Andy Kohn said he wanted to create the city’s first “elevated barbecue dining experience,” we asked for a translation and got one: comfy “fauxhide” booths instead of picnic tables; heavy flatware and steak knives instead of flimsy disposables; shaker pint glasses instead of plastic tumblers; cotton towels instead of economy-grade paper; ramekins of barbecue sauce instead of grimy bottles; and china in place of the ubiquitous wax paper–lined baskets. When choices had to be made, Kohn took the high road: Wine is quaffed from thin-lipped stemware, root beer is house-made, and even the ice—a hybrid of cube and crushed—is a cut above. Two top-of-the-line Ole Hickory smokers supply fun vittles like smoked-then-fried chicken wings, “pig candy,” and smoked prime-rib sandwiches on toasted Hawaiian rolls, delivered to tables by runners who appear to be using GPS. When we asked about “more” over a plate of meaty baby backs, Kohn replied, “More ribs or more restaurants?” Was it wrong to ask for both?
Lunch and dinner daily