St. Louisan Love for Kansas City

Goodbye, Cowtown - I just finished up three years in Kansas City. I went there reluctantly, because of a job. I always knew I would be back in St. Louis eventually, and now I am. A couple of weeks before I left, a friend and fellow transplant made a dismissive comment about Kansas City—something along the lines of how he couldn’t wait to move on. I didn’t say anything. I was leaving too, after all. Although I only spent three years in KC, they were a good three years. I owe the city better than that. This is what I’d tell him if I had another chance:

I’d tell him to go sit in the dining room of LC’s BBQ. Enjoy as LC himself, from his “desk” in the corner, flips channels between Wheel of Fortune and the Royals game while you eat. Appreciate the way the white bread soaks up the grease and sauce like a sponge. Take a whiff every time they open up the smoker—or don’t. That smell will stick with you anyway. I’d tell him to call in his order at Oklahoma Joe’s and walk right by all the schmucks waiting in line. That the Gates on Paseo has the one on Main beat by a mile in terms of atmosphere. That barbecue, more than any other cuisine that I know, is about where and with whom you are eating it. I’ve eaten a lot of barbecue in a lot of great places with a lot of people I’m going to miss. Admittedly, I’ve also eaten a lot of barbecue by myself. It also just tastes delicious.