Published: March 10, 2008 06:18 pm            

Not much has changed at Arthur Bryant’s

I still remember the first time I walked into Arthur Bryant’s restaurant in Kansas City.

It was in 1980, and to be precise, I didn’t just walk into Arthur Bryant’s. I got there around noon so I had to wait in line outside. While I waited in line, some nice folks told me that it would be a good idea to know what I wanted to order before I stepped up to the counter. The guys behind the counter are friendly, the folks in line said, but they don’t like to waste time on “Some *&^%$ idiot who doesn’t know what he wants.”

So when I finally made my way into the restaurant and up to the counter, I told the guy that I wanted the beef sandwich. The guy took my plate and threw a piece of white bread on it. Then, using his tennis racket-sized hands, he dropped what looked like 10 pounds of sliced brisket on the bread. Then he brushed that famous barbecue sauce on the meat, added another piece of bread, repeated the whole process, slid the plate with the skyscraper of a sandwich down to another guy, who tossed a couple hundred French fries on the plate and handed my plate back to me. As I approached the woman running the cash register, I ordered a beer and she reached down into a cooler and pulled out a frosty mug and filled it with Budweiser.

It was the best day of my life.

Friday evening, when I walked into Arthur Bryant’s on Brooklyn Avenue, everything looked pretty much the same. Well, the floor was different, but that was about all that seemed to have changed in the 20 years since I last walked into the place.

And by different, I mean the floor seemed a little more — shall we say — level and maybe a little cleaner than the way I remembered it. Not that the original floor was dirty. It’s just that time sometimes takes a toll on linoleum. So do thousands and thousands of folks tramping around the floor carrying plates full of food that tastes like it fell directly from heaven. And really, that’s what the food at Arthur Bryant’s is: a gift from the gods.

It doesn’t matter what you order — the brisket sandwich, the pulled pork, the ribs, the chicken, the sausage or the burnt ends — the result is always the same. After you finish your meal, you will push back your chair and ask someone to pack your bags because you have gone to heaven.

I think what I’m saying here is that the barbecue at Arthur Bryant’s is pretty good.

I used to live in Kansas City back in the early 1980s, and when you live in Kansas City you pretty much have to spend time at Arthur Bryant’s. It’s a law. Another law in Kansas City requires you to spend a lot of time at Kelly’s in Westport. At least that’s what I told people.

But when you move away from Kansas City and only visit occasionally, it becomes harder and harder to squeeze in a visit to Arthur Bryant’s or to Kelly’s. And, later, when you get married and have a child, it becomes even harder to squeeze in a visit to Arthur Bryant’s or to Kelly’s. At first, it bothers you to have to pass on a short-end rib sandwich at Arthur Bryant’s, or a Guinness by the old jukebox at Kelly’s. Then, after a while, it doesn’t bother you so much, and the next thing you know more than 20 years pass and you’re not even sure they still sell short-end rib sandwiches at Arthur Bryant’s or if they still have the old jukebox at Kelly’s.

My wife and I went to Arthur Bryant’s Friday with a group of folks from Missouri Southern. I was sort of anxious on the ride to dinner. I worried that after Arthur Bryant passed away in 1982, someone might have changed the place. I worried that someone might have tried to remake Arthur Bryant’s. I worried that someone might have tried to increase the commercial value of the place. In short, I worried that someone might have screwed Arthur Bryant’s up.

Oh, and they still have the short-end rib sandwich. I know that because I ordered one. They also still have the burnt-end sandwich and the beef sandwich. And the great French fries and the frosty mugs and the Budweiser.

Now I just have to find out if they still have the same old jukebox at Kelly’s.



Mike Pound writes for The Joplin (Mo.) Globe.

        

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