11/17/2006 - Counter culture: Smoky and saucy...Recently opened Lucille's a breath of barbecue fire
There are two words often seen together: "barbecue" and "joint." The presumption is that any restaurant serving smoked bones has to be...well, kind of downscale.
While that is true some of the time, it's certainly not the case at the new Lucille's Smokehouse Bar-B-Que emporium in Rocklin.
The place is huge yet comfortable, kinda funky yet immaculate, and the slick, Southern-accented concept is downright charming. Clever, professionally made signage and artwork everywhere, but not to the point of clutter. Servers are concerned and knowledgeable.
Blues music plays over the PA system, and live blues takes center stage from 6 to 10 p.m. on Fridays and Satrurdays. The bar area (the Flying Pig Lounge) is spacious and attractive. Brick, wood and exposed ductwork abound. Heck, even the doors to the tiled restrooms have character --they're made of frosted glass.
Lucille's is surrounded by ongoing shopping-center construction--which makes navigation a bit confusing --but that hasn't hindered the throngs of 'cue lovers and the curious who have flocked there since opening day on Sept. 22. The place was jammed at 12:45 p.m. when we walked out.
Lucille's Rocklin location is the latest entry in an eight-store chain with a presence mainly in California (headquarters are in Long Beach). More stores are planned for California, Nevada and Arizona.
Lunch pal Jeff and I settled into a comfy booth anad made ourselves at home by pouring little samples from the three bottles of outstanding barbecue sauces supplied on each table -- original, hot-and-spicy (both molasses-and-ketchup based) and Memphis (more vinegary than the other two).
The extensive menu shows lots of good things, from braised short ribs, sauteed shrimp and crab cakes to fried chicken, New Orleans-style gumbo and center-cut pork chops. For lesser appetites, a reduced-portion, reduced-price lunch menu ranges from $8.50 to $12.50.
We were diverted by a trip to the vented smoker, which has an arresting presence in the dining room. The idea of a 'cue restaurant giving a starring role to its massive smoker (hickory and apple wood) is a brilliant marketing move. One of the cooks had opened it up and was piling in a batch of marinated chicken, but we looked deep inside and saw hot links, dark briskets, spiced tri-tips and racks of glistening ribs. The meats are slowly smoked at low heat for hours.
We ordered a combo platter of St. Louis ribs and beef ribs ($23.95), with a la carte dishes of chicken and tri-tip ($12.50). Of the dozen side dishes, we chose mac and cheese, baked beans and braised greens.
Ball canning jars brimming with iced tea arrived with a basket of fluffy baked biscuits with apple-infused butter on the side, all top-notch.
Soon, the platter of ribs arrived, and Jeff eyed them with some hesitation.
"These are going to be messy," he said. "Your point is?" "I need a bib," he said. "Or a poncho. I could make a poncho out of a tablecloth if they'll give me one."
We both ended up well-sauced, but that's part of the ritual. A plate of warm, scented, wet cloth towels certainly helped.
The beef and pork ribs were tender and meaty, with a delicate backdrop of smoke. They were dark on the outside and deeply flavorful and juicy from the first to the last bites. The marvelous tri-tip literally fell apart simply by glancing at it. The tasty chicken leg-and-thigh fared well.
Between the meat, the biscuits and the sauces, we were very happy diners, but the side dishes let us down. The greens were too bitter to eat; the mac and cheese was way too dry; and the beans were more ranch-style (wet) than seriously baked to a thick, sweet consistency.
P.S. On the front of the menu is a tale about how Lucille's originated in a lunch shack in a small town on a back road in the South, prior to World War II. Over the years, Lucille Buchanan's grandmother passed on her recipes and cooking secrets to her granddaughter. As an adult, Lucille married, relocated to Sou