It’s been too long since we explored Kansas City so last weekend while there for a lovely family wedding, we revisited Arthur Bryant‘s for barbecue (no change there, still great fries and ribs although the burnt ends weren’t as good as remember – more manufactured chunks slathered in sauce rather than the random scraped up crusty scraps I remembered from years past). We also had an excellent family brunch (light omelettes with thin crusty fries; a good Eggs Benedict with poached eggs and smoked salmon, although the Hollandaise sauce was cold) with a special guest (Uncle Kenneth!) at Westport Cafe & Bar.
Le Lou Flea
A highlight was explored the vintage, antique and design shops in the West Bottoms, which not long ago was just a bunch of abandoned gloomy towering brick industrial buildings where I gather, the Mafia got up to no good. Now there are vintage shops (Le Lou Flea) – all four rickety floors) and design stores (Varnish and Vine) here and there, plus a cool coffee shop (Blip Roasters) and more I’m sure to come given the growing popularity of once-dying post-industrial former dead zones in Rust Belt cities. A few I wanted to visit weren’t open on a Sunday afternoon including the the Gathering Place and Goldie & Myrtle’s. (Next time!) Some kids-in-the-know at Varnish & Vine also recommended some restaurants in the area including Voltaire, Stockyards and Rock Star Burgers.
We stopped briefly nearby in another west side neighborhood nearby (that reminds me Des Moines’ Sherman Hill) at West Side Storey (geddit) across from an artisan bakery (Fervere) and Bluebird Cafe/Bistro that we used go to. (Nearby, we also happened upon the FBI office in KC in a suitably hidden location).
I am the only guest tonight (no surprise for a Monday night in early December ) at the beautiful Oak Street Mansion, a lovely 1903 red brick mansion just north of the Nelson Atkins Museum. The place is a great mix of old world furnishings and contemporary art. The owner has filled the place with his father’s art collection and it’s quite something. his dad was acame here from Cuba and spent his early years in foster care but somenhow managed to start collecting art, starting with African art and moving into I am not exactly sure what (there is at least on Thomas hart Benton according to a book about this place).
The famous PLaza lights!
Anyway, beats the local Marriot and very close to where my work meeting is tomorrow morning and to a Gates BBQ outpost on Emmanuel Cleaver Rd. (I can’t return home without ribs wrapped to go!)
I had a nice dinner tonight with my lovely uncle-in-law Kenneth at Aixion, a nice little French place in the pretty Brookside area, another place I used to go during the brief stint I lived here in 1989/1990.
Doll Avenue, Wright, ks
To be honest, we didn’t do much in western Kansas beyond the confines of D’s 1960s ranch house in the tiny town of Wright, outside Dodge City. We were there to pack up and haul out all the stuff that a family of 8 children accumulated during the past 55 years. And we found things that were much older, some back to the late 1800s, we think.
View from the Steimel house
A melancholy task, but good to be with other family who came from New Mexico and elsewhere in Kansas. Lots of laughter, occasional tears, family tales shared. We did emerge for lunch yesterday at Tacos Jalisco, our favorite Mexican place on Wyatt Earp blvd. in Dodge. A late dinner was at a surprisingly packed Applebee’s near Boot Hill, maybe some others were there because there weren’t many other options on a Sunday at 10 pm. I did have a very good limeade.
Today, we stopped to see family in Wichita and then picked up ribs “to travel” at Gates BBQ in Kansas City. Now three hours til home.
P.s. Comfort Inn in Lenexa turned out to be a mixed bag. Our room was clean but the thin walls meant nonstop noise from someone who appeared to fall asleep with the tv on. Argh
I have wanted to go to the Justus Drugstore, a farm to table t
Restaurant in an old drugstore in the pretty small town of Smithville, just north of Kansas City for some time and we finally did! One of the better meals I’ve had in awhile and we didn’t even eat in the main dining room (the old pharmacy) but instead on the east side patio. We shared a delicious sweet corn salad (corn, heirloom cherry tomatoes, herbs, butter, cheese from a local dairy and butter. It was light and sweet and mysterious. I would love to know how to make it at home.
This is the kind of place that makes its own ketchup, which resembled tomato paste but tastier. It arrived with the crispy hand cut fries that came with the burnt end sandwich, whIch was like nothing I’ve tasted before. there is a lot to be said for good ingredients and when every ingredient is good, the net effect knocks your socks off. The roll was delicious on its own, then there was the BBQ pork, various other ingredients I couldn’t quite make out (arugula, capers) added up to a sweet but spicy flavor. The fried chicken was surprisingly light and the chicken tender but not undercooked, served atop a delicious risotto and fresh greens.
The desserts were crazy. We shared carrot cake beignets which came in an oblong narrow tray with a beignet on either end and in the middle this light goat cheese foam with carrot caviar (yes,,carrot caviar, little bright orange beads, who makes carrot caviar?) The beignets were warm and moist and fabulous, even better when dined in the foam. We also tried the homemade ice cream, chocolate Brownie and sage butterscotch.
The main dining room is small, charming, with lovely landscapes and abstract paintings, all by the chef. Talented guy. The old soda found is lined with jars of homemade, hand labeled bitters, for making cocktails.
Smithville itself turned out to be a pretty little place with a row of old well tended red brick buildings, a brick patio and bandstand.
now we are at a comfort inn in Lenexa, Kansas. Not bad.
We took a welcome break from white out conditions along Interstate 35 from Des Moines to Kansas City for some grub at Empanada Madness, a little hole on the wall on southwest boulevard, just off the interstate in KCMO. Found was fresh, delicious and cheap. We ate crispy empanadas, arepas and plantains, plus rice and beans in a small nondescript dining room, then braced ourselves for more snow ahead. We seem to be traveling with the snowstorm, unfortunately, but for now it does look relatively clear south of overland PArk/ Olathe Kansas. We are passing the new ikea here, as I type, in Shawnee or mission or some such (Johnson county).
I’m always trying to remember the restaurants we eat at, particularly in a place like Kansas City (beyond the ones I’ll always remember like Gates, Stroud’s, Joes — formerly Oklahoma Joe’s, and Bryants.) So for the record we had a good meal with wonderful Uncle Kenneth at Trio, near the Plaza. I wasn’t that hungry, having had a big bowl of Bun at Saigon Cafe in Wichita a few hours earlier, so I just had a small plate – mainly grilled Brussels sprouts (a new favorite veg) well-seasoned with big pieces of lardon (bacon), little bits of pear and a small dab of orange-colored sweet potato (I think) puree. D had good crab cakes. N had salmon. K had chicken. The place was all decked out for the holiday, as of course was the Plaza, with its Spanish-style buildings lined with Christmas lights.
Since the Royals are in the World Series for the first time since 1985, it’s time to share again my chance encounter in about 1989 with Royals Hall of Famer George Brett at the old now demolished Stroud’s road house in KC, MO.
To be honest, I didn’t know who George was but my husband filled me in after spotting him waiting in a crowd alongside us mere mortals for a table at Stroud’s (where the fried chicken was so good people were willing to wait for hours to eat it since the old place didn’t take reservations. Nor does the newer Stroud’s.)
Brett, for the uninitiated, was Kansas City’s best ever player (my husband reminds me of this today) and a key factor in the Royals last World Series win (in 1985.) So we were sitting next to a little boy, about age 8, who was staring at George in amazement. Awestruck. His mom was encouraging him to ask George for his autograph but the kid couldn’t do it. (In this day and age, he’d be asking George to take a selfie with him.) So I said I’d ask George and sidled over to where George was talking to several attractive blond women. He seemed uninspired when I mentioned the little awestruck boy and didn’t provide an autograph. “Jerk,” I thought as I returned to the kid empty handed.
But a short time later, as the little boy and mom were being led to their table, the boy left his jacket behind on his seat by mistake. “Son. hey son,” George called out to him. “Here’s your jacket.” And he handed it to him. The boy looked like he’d won the lottery. “Not a jerk,” I thought, revising my opinion of George Brett.