Few subjects ignite a foodie’s passion like barbecue, not that many of us actually do anything about it in the backyard, where the grill, not an actual barbecue, is king.
Then there are people like Adam Carmer, proprietor of Adam’s Ribs. Carmer is so obsessed with the subject of barbecue that he decided to open his own restaurant. You’ll find it, if you follow the signs posted out on Grand Canyon Avenue, across the parking lot from Chuck E. Cheese, in a huge mall directly west of the 215 Beltway at Flamingo.
In principle, he agrees with the owner of a barbecue joint on San Francisco’s Haight Street called Memphis Minnie’s, whose credo is that “grilling is fast, barbecue is slow.” True barbecue, the experts agree, takes time, smoke and good meat. When it comes to the subject of wood and smoke, though, the argument gets squirrelly. Carmer, who is as opinionated as the next fellow, makes a good case for not smoking his meats for very long. “Smoking dries out meat,” he says, “and in our desert climate, which is dry and arid, the ideal smoking interval is around 45 minutes.” Normally, I’d not agree, but one taste of Carmer’s beef ribs, moist, juicy and flavorful, and I can’t argue.
Those of us who know him will attest that he’s a maniac for detail. He’s already well-regarded locally for being an adjunct professor in UNLV’s school of hotel administration, and also as proprietor of the Freakin’ Frog, a local bar with 900 beers and 600 whiskeys.
Carmer has opened his first rib joint and is planning to open another one soon, near his bar on Maryland Parkway. He clearly has his eye on a franchise and is off to a promising start. His restaurant is bright, spacious and clean, with white pine walls like you’d find in many sushi bars, and wooden tables with heavily lacquered tops.
All these meats are cut to order. “Start with a superior product,” he says proudly, “and you’ll get a superior result.” After smoking his meats, he finishes them in a contraption called a Rational Oven, a gadget that uses both steam and convection. That’s how his meats become so tender. Even beef ribs, notoriously hard to cook, come out of the oven tender as a baby’s kiss.
What you do not get is that characteristic smoke-ring that is the calling card of so many regional styles of barbecue. There is the option to slather the meats in either a conventional or spicy barbecue sauce (called Slow Burn), and to sprinkle on some of the house rub, a mixture of 12 spices that does not include salt.
You could, I suppose, start with a reasonably satisfying plate of chicken wings, done in the usual Buffalo or BBQ styles, or the grilled-vegetable platter, lined with simply grilled asparagus, portabella mushrooms and various types of squash. But I prefer simply ordering a pile of ribs.
I’d come back if only to eat another one of Carmer’s beef ribs, dinosaur-sized and tender, brushed with a tad of sauce, oozing beefy goodness. One of these ribs makes a nice lunch, accompanied by one of the restaurant’s good sides. Pork ribs are either baby backs or spare ribs, a traditional St. Louis cut. Of these, I prefer the tenderness of the baby backs, a more delicate if less flavorful part of the pig.
Carmer has sandwich meats as well. There is brisket and tri-tip sirloin, piled high onto buns in thin slices, as well as a hefty half-pound beef burger and a veggie garden burger for anyone masochistic enough to order one in a barbecue restaurant. You can get a barbecued half-chicken here, too, a nicely bronzed, crisp-skinned bird served with garlic mashed potatoes. And that’s pretty much it here, other than the good side dishes and desserts.
Most of the rib dinners come with a choice of the sweetish house-baked beans, coleslaw or spice-dusted fries, but you could also get the creamy red potato salad if you wish. For a grilled corn on the cob, the absurdly rich, parmesan cheese-topped creamed spinach or an order of sweet-potato fries, though, you’ll have to pay extra. It’s not such a bad idea.
Drinks include sweet tea and lemonade like you’d get at a barbecue pit in the South.
Carmer’s wife, Jill, makes the crusty, flaky apple pie herself. She got tired of eating the store-bought kind, which are loaded with sugar and preservatives, and these are good examples of the genre. There is also a homemade pumpkin pie. It’s an all-American finish to a nice, all-American meal.
Adam’s Ribs
4145 S. Grand Canyon Ave., Ste. 102. 221-8227.
Open daily, 11 a.m.-9 p.m.
Suggested dishes: beef ribs, $12 (half-rack), $19 (full rack); baby back ribs, $17 (half rack), $22 (full rack); grilled corn on the cob, $3; apple pie, $4.