5/15/2003 - Barbecue Heaven: Lucille’s serves abundant portions of superb Southern food.
Opening a barbecue joint is risky, because barbecue isn’t so much of a style of cooking or a type of food as it is an in-your-face passion.

People get crazy for barbecue. People get into screaming matches arguing about barbecue. People who wouldn’t watch a presidential debate if you threatened their lives will debate barbecue until the street sweepers come out. And people who actually cook their own barbecue? They’re the mad scientists of the culinary would.

At Lucille’s Smokehouse Bar-b-Que in Brea, however, it’s a fine madness. Its barbecue- in fact, just about everything we tried there – is true food for the soul, if not for the bathroom scales. This is Southern food done well and served up in great abundance. It is damn-the-torpedoes comfort food that simply will not brook picky eaters or dieters. Eating at Lucille’s will not make you svelte, but it will make you smile.

In previous incarnations the place was The Big Yellow House and later Hof’s Bar and Grill. In its latest livery (it’s still under the Hof’s Hut corporate umbrella) it’s a two-story barn of a place with garish metal signs, a high stamped-metal ceiling, comfortable booth seating, shelves full of bourbons you never heard of (how about Rebel Yell?) and, in the middle of it all, a big metal barbecue smoker that wafts the ambrosial scent into every corner of the room.

The menu’s a big one, with long lists of appetizers, salads, burgers and sandwiches, and a good selection of side dishes. And, of course, the barbecue. The heavy emphasis is on Southern specialties.

For instance, fried green tomatoes. An excellent appetizer, it’s a dish that illustrates that frying often gets a bad rap as a preparation technique. The thick slices of green tomatoes are coated in cornmeal and deep-fried. They emerge golden and have a satisfying juicy crunchiness – and carry back a bare minimum of the cooking oil. The roasted red pepper cream sauce that lines the plate is smooth and delicate and a fine accompaniment.

Just about every entrée comes with a choice of two side dishes, and the honey-roasted peanut slaw and shoestring fries set off the barbecued pork loin sandwich beautifully. The slaw had a fine sweet-and-sour tartness and the potatoes were, again, evidence of careful deep frying: marvelously light and crisp. And the sandwich, served with pasilla chilies and Creole mustard on a soft potato bun, begs to be eaten without barbecue sauce. It’s uncommonly tender and lean and infused with plenty of flavor on its own.

(If you want extra barbecue sauce, the two varieties at Lucille’s are very good – one that’s mildly spicy and one that’s a real treasure if you like your sauce on the sweet side.)

A good bet indeed if you want to try a variety of barbecue selections are the various “porch” offerings in the barbecue section of the menu—combination plates. I went for the “back porch” selection: St. Louis pork ribs, a half chicken and sliced tri-tip, with sides of flame roasted sweet corn and BBQ baked beans.

This is very close to barbecue heaven. The ribs, seasoned with a house rub and slathered with the house sauce, were beautifully cooked—tender and juicy against the bone, crisp and finely browned on the outside. The chicken was a generous portion, marinated in the house sauce for 24 hours, smoked and then finished on the grill. This is chicken I could eat everyday. And the tri-tip is served with a tangy “mop” sauce for dipping, not that it really needs it. It can be cut with a sharp look.

For dessert, Lucille’s peanut butter pie pegs the needle on the richness scale. It’s peanut butter filling in a chocolate cookie crust topped with chocolate sauce and honey roasted peanuts. You have to order this one even if you don’t think you have room for it. Share it with someone. Share it with several people. Just get it.

To drink? There is a handful of intriguing Southern beers (a few incarnations of the venerable staple Dixi