It's hard to explain why, but Las Vegas is undergoing a barbecue renaissance. In the past few months, Lucille's, K's, and the subject of this piece, Famous Dave's have opened, and just before them, the redoubtable Barbecue Masters in Henderson.
For years, Mike Mills, barbecue master at Memphis Championship Barbecue, had things pretty well sewn up in this town, but suddenly, there is serious competition. That shouldn't disturb Mills too much, by the way. Danny Meyer hired him to do the 'cue at New York City's Blue Smoke, and now he is being lionized in the media capital of the world.
Famous Dave's has a lot going for it. The restaurant actually is part of a Minnesota-based chain of 98 units, and the company has plans to open all over Nevada. The state's first restaurant, near the rustic intersection of Lake Mead and Rainbow boulevards, resembles a log cabin in the north woods, as American as all get out.
The deer and the antelope don't play here, though. They're on the walls, their antlers used for chandeliers. In addition, every bit of cute paraphernalia that recalls a lakeside cabin are here too: fishing tackle, pictures of Dad in his Pendleton shirt, empty cans of outboard motor oil, and plastic muskies, the iconic Minnesota fish, suspended from hooks over your head.
The place is so authentic that the general manager, a nice lady named Sue, sounds as if she has stepped directly off the Fargo movie set. I didn't hear her utter, "Thanks a bunch," but if there is a purer distillation of that classic Midwestern twang, I have yet to hear it.
I'm sitting at my wooden table, tasting my way through a six-pack of the chain's squeeze-bottled sauces, placed in a paper carton once home to some Michelob Ultra. The sauces are good: Rich and Saucy, my favorite; a tame hot sauce called Devil's Spit; the complex Sweet and Zesty; the oregano- and cumin-tinged Texas Pit; and Georgia Mustard, like the South Carolina sauce locals there call "baby vomit." (Number Six is ketchup.)
The sauces are all, in their own way, quite good, other than the fact that the hot sauce isn't going to take the hair off anyone's chest.
But the meats are uniformly delicious, and proved I was wrong to be skeptical after discovering that the restaurant uses a gas barbecue with hickory logs, rather than a wood-fueled pit. Because Famous Dave's slow cooks its meats for several hours, the food acquires smokiness and tenderness, two hallmarks of good 'cue. The brisket and St. Louis-cut ribs are especially good, and the chicken, more of a roasted bird than a barbecued one, isn't bad at all.
I tried the Feast for Two, and honestly, it would stuff four hungry people. Picture a pie tin almost 2 feet in diameter, crammed full with a half-slab of ribs, a half chicken, around a half-pound of brisket, and an abundance of sides: creamy coleslaw; Wilbur's beans, redolent of the chunky, smoky meat used to cook them with; little, ridged-fried potato wedges called Famous Fries; corn muffins; and two ears of sweet corn.
The ribs have a nice spice rub, but when ordered, they come to the table lathered in Rich and Sassy sauce, so if you prefer your ribs "naked," ask in advance. Two more good main dishes are sweet-water catfish with a nice, crunchy crust; and double-smoked ham, tender and sweet from a sugary glaze.
For those who like them, there also are rib tips, chopped into bite-sized pieces, and Georgia chopped pork, the best choice for a sandwich. But whatever meat is ordered, the results should please you.
The only real complaints are with the hot link, a very tame, Middle-America version without flavor or soul; and the drinks, served in plastic, red Coke tumblers, so you can't see the color of what you are drinking.
(By the way, pass on the lemonade, a horrible, chemical-tasting version from a soda gun.)
For dessert, there is a rich, sweet pecan pie, served warm with vanilla ice cream; a hot fudge Kahlua brownie too rich for words; and their Famous Bread Pudding, a properly egg-rich version that will sate the most persistent appetites.
Considering this is a chain, Famous Dave's does an exceptional job, even if the sizes are indicative of a trend of which I'm not overly fond. Portions here border on the obscene, just too much food, really, though I acknowledge the appeal for anyone with a large family.
So, order judiciously and you'll have a good time here. The service is cheerful and solicitous, the food dependable, and the prices reasonable. With all the competition surfacing in the barbecue genre, the public won't turn out for less.