Tennessee's

Smoking out the best ribs around

by Jim Johnson

341 Cochituate Road, (Rt. 9 West), Framingham
626-7140
Sun. 11 a.m.-9 p.m.
Mon.-Sat. 11 a.m.-10 p.m.
Major credit cards
No liquor license
Handicap accessible

As I gnawed on a meaty baby-back rib, a family chatted with Tennessee's owner, creator, and self-proclaimed "pit master," Steve Uliss.

"We're from Mississippi, and this is the real thing," the father drawled. "How'd you get it so right?"

During the next hour or so, I'd find out.

This was my second time at Tennessee's, the first one was an undercover visit that overwhelmed me with the quantity and authenticity of the cuisine. I was so impressed, in fact, that I called Uliss and asked for a "tour" of his menu. As their boss gave detailed descriptions, Uliss's capable crew brought out sample after sample.

Business has taken me to Tennessee (the state) numerous times in the past year, and I've come to appreciate barbecue done right. My favorite spot is a place in Chattanooga called Hog Wild, a friendly dive with a smoker out front, a long counter on the side, slat-wood walls, and diner tables.

Tennessee's is a sanitized, Disney version fully reminiscent of its southern cousin. Likewise, its slogan of "Real BBQ, Real Fast" and its casual setting reflect its focus on take-out and counter service, sort of a country version of Boston Market. A monstrous smoker puffs away behind the counter. Corrugated metal on the walls suggests the tin roof of some deep-woods moonshiner. Lemonade and iced tea pour from vats, and a central condiment section has rollers loaded with paper towels.

Uliss learned barbecue 10 years ago from Memphis pro John Willingham and has been perfecting his style ever since. Smoking makes all the difference. Some meats, like beef brisket, will sit in the smoke house for as long as 16 hours -- and that's after 24 hours of marinating. Depending on the meat, Uliss uses different blends of hickory, ash, cherry, and apple woods.

But the secret doesn't stop there. Unlike many barbecue joints that lather on sauce, Uliss uses a dry-rub technique, where the meat draws in the flavor of the rub and the smoke. Different meats take different blends, but most consist of varying levels of brown sugar, cumin, coriander, onion, garlic, salt, and black pepper. If you prefer sauce, you can choose sweet Strawhouse, tangy Woodhouse, or spicy Brickhouse -- all manufactured locally to Uliss's specifications.

Uliss knows his meat, too, and makes his purchases based on tenderness and meat-to-bone ratio. For example, you won't eat any sow meat at Tennessee's. Instead, Uliss buys hog meat. The difference? Sows are slaughtered at 1,000 pounds or more. Hogs, weighing in at 600 to 800 pounds, are more tender and less fatty.

Thus, the baby-back ribs are so tender the mouth-watering meat falls easily from the bone. Tennessee's also cuts the fat- and cartilage-laden tips from its St. Louis style ribs, all to yield a higher meat-to-bone ratio. Even the brontosaurus-like beef ribs are tender -- but definitely not first-date food.

This is a smokehouse, not a rib house, after all, and Tennessee's has plenty more to offer. The pulled pork, made from lean pork shoulder, comes in a sweet rich sauce and can be ordered as a sandwich, by the pint, or as part of a platter complete with cucumber salad, BBQ beans, cornbread, and watermelon, as do the sliced brisket and Uncle Jack's Red Dogs, a custom-made sausage made with dry-rubbed pork smoked in hickory and apple. (Or you can order the sausage sliced and served with "dirty rice" enhanced with sliced peppers, beans, onions, and maybe a touch of cayenne.)

If you prefer chicken, there's smoked pulled chicken, too, as well as smoked wings and Dixie Chicken, seasoned and smoked for five hours. I especially enjoyed a forearm-sized chicken burrito, a fresh flour tortilla bulging with beans, rice, cilantro, chopped red onions, guacamole, and fragrant apple-smoked chicken.

You can order à la carte plates or various combination specials. For example, $10.95 will buy you "Oink, Cackle and Moo," a sampling of ribs, chicken, and beef brisket. You can also order "Attack Packs" like the $79.75 "Brown Bag Deluxe" for 10 with a bucket of ribs, a whole chicken, a pint of burnt ends . . . well, you get the idea.

According to Uliss, everything's made from scratch. The taste bears him out. Also, no recipe is etched in stone. When locals turned their noses up at traditional Tennessee tomato-based baked beans, Uliss switched to a more familiar molasses base. For collard greens, he chose a family recipe passed down to kitchen manager Tony Ensinger. The delicious sweet-potato pie is Ensinger's own creation.

It's no secret that the Framingham location is a prototype for other Tennessee's restaurants. Indeed, Uliss sees others opening across the United States, capitalizing on Americans' passion for barbecue and for value (you can chow down for $10 and burst for $15). Is the food heart-healthy? No way. But once every now and then, a feast like this is worth the risk.