Roadfood_ Revised Edition - Jane Stern [167]
Snead’s
1001 E. 171st St.
816–331–7979
Belton, MO 64012
LD (closed Mon & Tues) | $$
“What are these rumors about Snead’s closing soon?” we asked the woman who led us to a booth.
“Just that,” she replied. “Rumors.” For some reason, Snead’s impending demise has been talked about among foodies for years.
What a relief it is to believe that it will continue on, because Snead’s is one of the greats, if not the greatest, among Kansas City barbecue restaurants.
A low, rustic dining room decorated with quilts, farmy pictures, and a small collection of vintage wooden coat hangers, it is way out in the country where urban sprawl hasn’t yet arrived. One customer with whom we chatted recalled coming here as a child when the place opened in the mid-1950s on the corner of Bill Snead’s farm.
Snead’s meats are cooked in large kettles in a brick pit fueled only by hickory wood. The result is barbecue with supreme tenderness and powerful smoke flavor. Most indulgent of all are the brownies, aka burnt ends, pieces stripped of the ends of brisket and/or ham. Pork is sliced thin but so moist that sauce is optional. Beef is a little dry, so sauce is a good idea. Snead’s offers two variations: a slightly sweet mild sauce and a vigorously peppery orange brew that is reminiscent of Arthur Bryant’s, and not at all sweet.
Stroud’s Oak Ridge Manor
5410 N.E. Oak Ridge Dr.
816–454–9600
Kansas City, MO
D | $$
Stroud’s makes the most delicious fried chicken in America.
It is fried in a heavy iron skillet and arrives at the table a shade of gold that is breathtakingly beautiful. Each piece is audibly crusty, but not the least bit bready; there is just enough of an envelope of crust to shore in all the chicken juices. The crust itself is thin, brittle, and as flavor-packed as bacon, but in this case, with essence of chicken and spice. Once you crunch through it, juices flow down your chin and fingers and forearm: you are an unsightly mess, but you don’t care because the juices are ambrosia.
The mashed potatoes are fluffy-textured, with an intense flavor of pure potato. As you fork up mouthfuls of these spuds you learn new respect for real mashed potatoes and new intolerance for bogus ones. The only way these lovelies can be improved is if you ladle some of Stroud’s gravy on them. It is zesty, pan-dripping gravy, redolent of chicken and powerfully peppered.
At the risk of sounding hysterical, we must tell you that the cinnamon rolls that accompany this meal are fantastic, too. Tasting more of yeast and cinnamon than sugar, they are big, swirly things with a layer of caramelized cinnamon butter around the base.
The original Stroud’s, a funky wood-floored roadhouse that began as a fireworks stand, is long gone. The new place is a gracious frontier homestead with a dining room that looks out over grassy lawns. It’s very crowded most mealtimes and you will likely wait for a table; then, once you are seated, there’s another wait for the chicken, which is pan-fried to order. This is one place we don’t mind waiting. There is no better chicken dinner.
Ted Drewes
6726 Chippewa St.
314–481–2652
St. Louis, MO
(Closed in winter) | $
For anyone in search of America’s most delicious ice cream (and who is not?), here’s a name to put on the short list of candidates for greatness: Ted Drewes. Drewes’s frozen custard is fresh, pure, and tons of fun, manufactured only as vanilla, but mixable with your choice from a list of dozens of different flavoring agents from chocolate and strawberry to fudge, cherries, cookies, nuts, and candy bars.
The best-known dish in the house is called a concrete, which is a milkshake so thick that the server hands it out the order window upside down, demonstrating that not a drop will drip out! Beyond concretes, there are sundaes, cones, floats, and sodas.
Ted Drewes has two locations (the second is at 4224 S. Grand Blvd., phone: 352–7376), both of them mobbed all summer long with happy customers spooning into huge cups full of the