“We announced our opening on Twitter and the first response we heard was ‘Just what we need, another frigging barbecue,’” related The Q owner Bob Conley.

Barbecue is politically incorrect. In greater Des Moines, more new barbecues opened during the Bush administration than any other restaurant genre and, to many minds, they are associated with red state, red meat mentality. Some Obama era revisionists would like to quarantine them to Texas with the former president. Barbecue is now included in sin tax proposals and the Environmental Protection Agency has proposed levying ozone endangerment taxes on cattle and burned wood. However, eating remains an act of politics and barbecue is not going gently in any vegan good night.

KC Pedigree

In fact, The Q raises the bar for the genre in Des Moines. Tired of tentative tenants, landlord Conley decided to open his own restaurant in a venue that had briefly housed both Bordo’s and Town Hall during the last year. He recruited a smoke master from Kansas City’s Gates family, as in Gates & Sons BBQ and Gates College of Barbecue. Aaron “A-Train” Byrd says the Gates family patriarch is his godfather. He left Kansas City because he’s involved with the Iowa Chapter of Bikers Against Child Abuse and because he wants to market his own line of barbecue sauces.

The restaurant looks like an urban archeological display. The hacienda style architecture has not changed since Cabo San Lucas was here. Indoor furniture hasn’t changed since a previous tenant sanded down Sticks’ designed tables and painted them black. Conley added outdoor furniture that includes heavy wrought iron tables and rocking chairs that I have previously only seen in five star resorts. The full bar remains unchanged from previous incarnations, except that bartenders now seem to treat strangers as well as their friends.

A well dressed hostess greeted me with “Hi, how are you doing?,” a Gates signature. She didn’t take my order though, The Q is full service with a full bar.

On my first visit, briskets were being removed from the smoker and I could specify freshly sliced meat from the deckle - the staff knew what that meant too.

Byrd has the good sense to smoke his chickens in quarters, so his white meat need not be overcooked to safely cook his dark meat. Both chicken and brisket were as good as they get. Ribs, pork shoulders and burnt ends were all above average, showing smoke rings and smelling of hickory.

Ribs had been grilled, drying out the surface areas - I’d prefer lukewarm ribs, if that’s the trade off. That kept them from the status of the chickens and briskets. Broasted chicken was panko breaded, fried crisp and tender to the bone. When I asked what award the “award-winning chili” won, I was introduced to a manager whose recipe garnered a blue ribbon in the Illinois Chili Cook-off. The chili was meatier than most. Of two kinds of slaw, vinegar-based excelled. Mac & cheese was heavy on cheese. Mashed potatoes had excellent stock-based gravy. Baked beans, fries and sweet potato fries were industry products. Potato salad and au gratin potatoes were both scratch made and creamy.

House made bread pudding stood out over a pair of cobblers on the dessert menu.

On three subsequent visits, brisket that could be freshly sliced was available once and was just as good as the first time. Smoked chickens were consistently perfect. Four sauces were all sweetened yet distinctly different in flavor. All sandwiches and dinners came with two sides and were good bargains at $7 - $13.

The Q

1250 Eighth St.,, West Des Moines, 224-7440

Mon. - Sat. 11 a.m. - 10 p.m.

On my last trip to Seattle, a sassy concierge gave me the following directions: “Go straight by 12 Starbucks and turn left at the 13^th Starbucks. Your restaurant will be half way between the fourth and fifth Starbucks after that.” Sometimes you win a war by losing battles. That’s the case with Des Moines’ coffeehouse culture.

Before the mid part of this decade, Central Iowa did not fit the expansion profile of industrial coffee chains Starbucks and Caribou. That helped independent coffeehouses grow distinctive personalities. Java Joe’s nourished the independent music and art scenes. So did Zanzibar’s which also supported fresh and local farms and artisan bakeries. Grounds for Celebration developed their own gelatos. All those places roasted their own beans. Amici brought an almost fanatical Italian expression to the scene with Tuscan machines, Bolognese roasted beans, Udinese china, and an exceptional Sicilian wine list. Half a dozen other independent coffeehouses served distinct neighborhood or cultural niches, like Mars (Dogtown), Cup o' Kryptonite (comic books) and The Break Room (pet owners).

Those coffeehouses were more sympathetic to local economics than the giant corporate carpetbaggers. By the time Starbucks and Caribou brought their religious trade war to town, most of Des Moines had developed loyalties to independents. So when Smokey Row, a successful independent coffeehouse from Oskaloosa, Pleasantville and Pella, announced they were renovating an old warehouse on Cottage Grove, I wondered if they came too late to the party, even though they have a lot going for them. Their small town stores were civic icons. Every major Presidential candidate visited Smokey Row at least once during the last election cycle. Their roasted coffees are brand names too, sold at Hy-Vee in those areas. Their cheeseburger chowder drew the attention of national magazines. But Iowa is provincial and no place more so than Des Moines. Would coalmine country coffee fly in the capitol city?

After three and a half years of remodeling and highway reconstruction, the answer came quickly. Sherman Hill embraced Smokey Row as a kindred spirit, the savior of venerable old real estate that could well have fallen to the wrecking ball. A fern bar without the ferns, Smokey Row features original brick walls, hard wood floors and nostalgia theme furnishings. Antique tables and chairs don’t match each other so much as the eclectic mood. That matches the clientele: Bible discussion groups, Twelve Steppers, bureaucrats, artists and, of course, politicians. The triangular building conveniently provides five different working entrances plus a drive through window!

Coffees were in line with the other top coffeehouses - catholic in origin and mostly in $12 a pound range. The kitchen resembled an old fashioned diner. Breakfast was served at any hour and included

a good broccoli quiche, with cottage cheese and fruit, along with a short menu of bacon and egg dishes.

 Lunch and dinner included soups, short order sandwiches and salads. There was Miracle Whip but no mayonnaise, nor pickles for deli sandwiches. Loose meat beef burgers were better than patty hamburgers. All sandwiches came with good kettle chips.

Creamed chicken on home made biscuits reminded me of middle school cafeteria food, back when that was a good thing. A “hippie chic” delivered a creative mix of chicken breast, spinach, provolone and guacamole on a fresh bagel. Cheeseburger chowder mixed fresh and processed cheeses. Fountain treats maintained the nostalgia theme, with phosphates and cane sugar soft drinks sharing a menu with more contemporary drinks. AE ice cream could be ordered with waffle cones hot off the griddle. A large line of cookies, pastries and desserts was about fifty per cent home made.

Bottom line - An overnight success, almost four years in the making.

Smokey Row

1910 Cottage Grove, 244-2611

Sun. 6 a.m. - 9 p.m., Mon. - Thurs 6 a.m. - 10 p.m., Fri.- Sat. 6 a.m. - 11 p.m.

The Brickhouse American Grille occupies a time warp in Clive where a Cheddar’s used to be. Because Cheddar’s is a unique chain that does no advertising, its brand depended on customer satisfaction. With its bargain-priced menu, I doubt Brickhouse lost any old customers. It was packed on three of my four visits and I could see why. Brickhouse has painstakingly preserved a warm, nostalgic ambiance that defined chic in the late 1970’s, when hippie culture turned yuppie and earthy, natural things were incorporated into million dollar designs, back when that was a lot of money. Trend setting restaurants like Iowa River Power in Coralville and Rusty Scupper in Des Moines became instant sensations by featuring hard wood, brass, tall ceilings, skylight windows and lots of living plants. That trend was short lived in the Midwest because it was too expensive for restaurants that depended on price shoppers. Some such places hired full time staff just to water their plants.

Brickhouse recalls that era with all those features plus a hip soundtrack that avoids the clichéd choices one hears most everywhere else these days. It also adds the kind of lotus leaf, paddlewheel fans one sees in five star hotels in Bangkok or Hong Kong. Though this place looks expensive, staff allayed pocketbook worries quickly with consistently quick beverage service that included some schooner sized bargains, like one pint margaritas for $4.

Lunch items all stayed under the $9 threshold. Chicken tenders tasted fresh, crisp and hot - exemplary for that ubiquitous appetizer. Fried catfish delivered a fresh tasting fish in a batter with uneven textures, not up to the level of the chicken tenders. Steak sandwiches and six ounce burgers came nicely seared. The nostalgia theme provided a quiche of the day, an integral part of the late 1970’s café chic. Other than the burgers, lunch portions were restrained.

Dinner menu items kept within a $9 - $16.50 range. Coming with soup or salad, their larger portions made them better bargains than the lunches. Chicken pot pie and braised pot roast of brisket stood out. Skin-on mashed potatoes tasted fresh and creamy once but a second time they included too many large chunks of hard to chew skin and clumps or varying textures. Chicken fried steak and ribs aren’t likely to disappoint, or awe, anyone. 

I couldn’t resist ordering parchment baked whitefish, the prize catch of Midwestern waters that rarely makes it to Iowa menus. Other than Mao Heinemann (King & I), few chefs in town prepare fish “en papillote,” though that classic application is perfect for delicate flesh like whitefish.

Alas, my pouch arrived with a sticker that read “Friday“ in three languages. Because it was a Sunday, that suggested my dish had, at best, been prepared two days earlier.

 Instead of baking the fish with aromatic herbs and light vegetables like zucchini, mine was buried in chopped peppers, celery and onions. The fish itself tasted stale. Though a manager assured me it was okay to eat for several days after the sticker date, I’d have gladly traded for the catfish in my sandwich. Accompanying “croissants” were not laminated and were never served on bread plates. Vinegar & oil for a salad brought a plastic ramekin of vegetable oil that should only used for frying . Desserts also stayed in bargain land. A skillet sized fresh cookie with two scoops of ice cream,

and a large slice of pumpkin cheesecake were excellent $4 choices.

Bottom line - If one sticks strictly with Middle American comfort foods, Brickhouse’s fare compares with Machine Shed and Cracker Barrel. And it has a far more stylish dining room.

Brickhouse American Grille

1301 N.W. 114th St., Clive., 222-3129
Sun. 9 a.m. - 10 p.m., Mon. - Thurs. 11 a.m. - 10 p.m., Fri. - Sat. 11 a.m. - 11 p.m.