I used to get my barbecue from BBQ King on Cesar Chavez Avenue. Then, amidst the wave of gentrification sweeping the area surrounding downtown Los Angeles, BBQ King was razed to make way for luxury condos. Now I go to Boneyard Bistro in Sherman Oaks, Calif. If it weren't for a friend who's dating the chef, I would have never found it. Miguelito and I keep going back, partly because of the personal connection, mainly because of the finger-licking-good food. Plus, the beer menu -- categorized by alcoholic content, type and size -- is quite impressive. You could easily sample a saison, a bock and a Trappist ale in one sitting. Just don't expect a lemon with your Hefeweizen. For some reason, the chef, Aaron Robins, objects to serving any kind of garnish with the beer.
Dinner at Boneyard Bistro doesn't have to be all about carbs. On the evening we went with my sister, who was visiting from San Francisco, the evening's specials included a salad of heirloom tomatoes with a choice of blue or goat cheese. We opted for the more pungent blue, which was perfect to smear on the toast tinted with balsamic vinegar.
There are three ways to enjoy a BBQ combo: one meat, two meats or three meats. You can pick from chicken, three types of ribs (spare, baby back and St. Louis-style), sausages, brisket, tri tip, pulled pork and, as a concession to the vegetarians (and a big offense to this Southerner) portabello. Miguelito, my sister and I each tried the two-meat combo. While Miguelito ordered the baby back ribs with the tri tip, my sister had the brisket and St. Louis-style ribs. I got the same ribs as my sister did, with some chicken. The best-tasting variety was the brisket -- so tender and smoky. The chicken was perfectly cooked, as wel.. The St. Louis-style ribs, however, were too overcooked for my sister's preference. So the chef brought over a fresh plate of more tender slabs for her.
With each BBQ entree, we got our pick of two sides. We decided each of us would order the baked beans, collard greens and cole slaw enhanced with dill weed. But I had to have my own piece of fried mac 'n' cheese. The crispy triangle snapped apart easily to reveal a gooey center of soft elbow macaroni and cheese. It was a blatant violation of the bridal diet that I was all too happy to commit.
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