Road Trip Recap Part 2 - "Will Budweiser Do?"

BBQ pork steak, pizza, and more in St. Louis, MO.

Night 2: St. Louis, MO

On the way to St. Louis, I made a pit stop in greater Indianapolis, for a breaded pork tenderloin sandwich. The hoosier-staple, known for featuring comically large slabs of fried pork chops on a bun, has been a pet interest of mine for a few years now. This is, believe it or not, my second pit stop in Indiana to try this sandwich, and unfortunately both versions have been disappointing. I hope to have better news to report next time, I haven’t given up hope.

I was at my hotel in St. Louis with a couple of hours to spare before dinner time. Despite the barrage of beef I was expecting to experience in the coming days, I was craving a burger. After a little research from my suburban hotel bed, I was back on the interstate headed towards South City. Destination: Iowa Buffet, the dive bar of my dreams. Dimly lit, neon signs, keno betting slips on the bar where napkins might go, a small tv-set over the bar played b-horror movies all night long. An increasingly frustrated couple to my left tried their best to order anything but Michelob Ultra. “Ah, we’re all tapped out actually on that grapefruit lager, … sorry, no Fireball either, will a Budweiser do?”

Besides the chance to enjoy a Bud in its hometown, the real reason I came to Iowa Buffet was, you’ll remember, a burger. The bartender here is a grill cook too, slinging four burgers at a time out of a squat tabletop broiler that is reportedly 70 years old. On occasion, when she opened the contraption to slide out the cast iron sear plate in order to flip the patties, smoke and flames would lick and shoot out of the sides. It was a wait for my burger but worth every minute. Grilled onion, ketchup, pickles, American cheese, the undeniable taste of char and the co-mingling flavors of every burger cooked on that same surface for 70 years. Divine.

The rotating cast of bar patrons around me did their best to steer me in the right direction for my short stay in town. They agreed with my initial plan to try St. Louis-style pizza, though they weren’t very optimistic that I would enjoy it. Unanimously, however, they thought I’d be smart to seek out what they called pork steaks, a barbecue cut unique to the city. Some threw out half-baked recommendations of where I might find one, but most conceded that this was more of a backyard BBQ, homestyle dish. No invitations followed. With much to consider, I headed home to rest for the day to come.

The next morning, I typed “pork steaks near me” into Google and the top result was Ms. Piggies Smokehouse. It was near enough to my hotel, so I thought I’d give it a go. I’m actually just learning now, as I’m writing this and checking out their website, but it seems that the owners, Kenneth and Anita Matthews, are retiring. Their Google Maps listing reads “permanently closed.” Can anyone on the ground confirm this? If true, I’m heartbroken.

For the kick-off of a BBQ tour, what a way to start. So pork steak, as they call it around these parts, is basically a thick cross-cut section of pork shoulder smoked (and sometimes braised) low and slow until tender. It’s like if you took the best parts of a pork chop and combined that with the best parts of tender pulled pork. To my surprise, Anita at the counter insisted I order my steak wet, that is, smothered with their sweet and tangy sauce.

One bite and a shot of potent, rich hickory smoke flavor and a basic fact about barbecue clicked into place. It’s in those barbecue cities that primarily utilize hickory wood, St. Louis, Kansas City, Memphis, etc, where the sauces tend to be ultra sweet and sour. Strong, thick, and rich. Together with that bold hickory flavor? Perfect balance. More on this in a later Texas installment, we’ll have to talk about the preference down there in Central Texas for a more mild post oak, and the stringent no sauce culture. Making sense yet?

Anyway, on to the main event: Nick and Elenas in Overland, MO for St. Louis-style pizza. This is one of many riffs on the Chicago tavern-style pizza you see in one form or another all across the Midwest. Cracker-thin crust, generously topped, but St. Louis differentiates their pie with the use of Provel cheese. This is a devious blend of cheddar, Swiss, provolone, rounded out by a perplexing hit of liquid smoke. The only way I can think to describe the texture when melted is … sticky. Like cheese glue, holding my sausage, pepper, onions, and bacon in place. It’s my understanding that this topping combination constitutes “the works” in St. Louis. For me, next time I’ll skip the bacon. A little salty given the sausage and character of these cheese. Beyond that, I don’t know what the Provel detractors are on about, this stuff rocks.

I picked up a slice of ooey-gooey butter cake at a cafe near Lafayette Park, just to mark it off the list, before hitting the road a little too late in the day en route to Kansas City. We’ll pick it up there next time.