7/1/2006 - Lucille's BBQ is smokin'
Orange County luh-oves its pizza. And sushi. And tacos. You've long ago scoped out your favorites, and you're sticking with them. "Where can I find great pizza/sushi/tacos?" is not a question heard often.
But I can say that about barbecue. Though it's surely the most purely American cusine imaginable, many folks have no clue when it comes to 'cue.
They seek but don't find. I offer my personal short list when asked, but the inquiries persist. One reason for the never ending search is a shortage of local barbecue joints. Another reason is varied styles of barbecue - Memphis, Texas, Kansas City, Carolina and more - kindle white-hot allegiances that don't yield easily.
Considering the sticky issues the quest for good barbecue entails, I am always astounded by the tidal wave of hungry humans that engulfs Lucille's Smokehouse Bar-B-Que each evening. And this place is no shabby shack - it's bigger than a barn and seats 300 in its colossal honeycomb of dining rooms. It takes scores and scores of spry staffers to manage the crowds. Sometimes it seems Lucille's not only has a license to smoke meat, but also to print money.
Those who knew Brea in the 1980's may recall Lucille's was originally The Big Yellow House, a failed, faux dinner-at-grandma's eatery that left behind a hulking building later inhabited by Hof's Hut Bar & Grill. Lucille's link to Hof's Hut is more than location. It's owner, Craig Hofman, is the son of Hof's Hut founder Harold Hofman and the impetus for converting selected Hof's Hut sites to the Lucille's concept beginning back in 2000.
A tad too polished to convincingly pull off the down-home Southern roadhouse routine, Lucille's handily delivers the more important goods: tender, sticky smoked meats and tasty, traditional sides served with cheer at fair prices. So what if the corny yarn about Lucille and her granny's recipes is more fairy tale than fact? The greater truth is on the plate.
Some are giddy at the prospect of fried green tomatoes or peach cobbler, but purists know the soul of any worthy barbecue joint lies in the low, slow cooking of meats over hickory wood. Lucille's mighty (1,400-pound capacity) smoker is smoldering almost constantly, performing its mellow magic on chicken (which cooks two to three hours), pork roast (10 to 12 hours) and everything in between.
So while Lucille's hefty menu includes many starters, salads and sandwiches ($5.95 to $12.50) that are barbecue free, why bother? Meat is the motive here, so go for the gusto. Of the options ($15.95 to $24.95), the Angus beef tri-tip (super tender, though sliced ultra-thin), baby back pork ribs (nicely meaty and juicy) and the beef ribs (caveman size) are clearly winners. Also satisfying are the moist half chicken and fluffy pulled pork. Order each alone, but the bargain is in any of the Front, Back or Side Porch Specials that mix a choice of three meats that can even include hot links or rib tips.
Family-style feasts of these combos, sized to serve more than four or more than 10 people ($74.95 or $189.95) are available, with side dishes added accordingly. Clearly, these spreads are a sweet deal and undoubtedly the reason the place is teeming with large groups at king-size tables.
Sauce is a huge player in the barbecue game, and Lucille's competes with three distinct concoctions: its original sweet-tangy house sauce , a hellfire-added spicy version and a mustardy Memphis-style sauce. All are housemade, packing a respectable wallop. To taste meats before they're slathered with the savory stuff, order them dry and add your favorite sauce at the table.
A pageant of 12 sides (select two) is offered with all barbecue entrees. It would take several visits to try them all, but worthy efforts include roasted garlic mashed potatoes, honey roasted peanut slaw, flame-roasted sweet corn and the creamy cheese grits. Braised greens, and macaroni and cheese were ordinary at best.
If barbecue doesn't tempt, compromise with th