Danny Edwards BLVD BBQ
Experiencing real-deal burnt ends and learning valuable lessons at one of Kansas City’s top barbecue spots
On an early visit to Kansas City, BB and I stopped at legendary smokehouse Arthur Bryant’s for their sliced pork sandwich. I added an impromptu order of burnt ends and BB looked at me kinda funny. “I can’t vouch for the burnt ends here,” he whispered, as we slid our trays toward the register.
The mushy cubed meat, warmed over under a heat lamp and drowned in a pool of fiery sauce, was nothing like the lacquered brisket bits BB had waxed poetically about.
I was puzzled. If Bryant’s was one of KC’s best barbecue restaurants, and burnt ends were the be-all and end-all of KC barbecue, then how could Bryant’s version be so mediocre?
With a barbecue scene as varied as it is large, I’ve come to learn that every Kansas City establishment has its specialty and you need to know where to go for what. Danny Edwards BLVD BBQ (2900 SW BLVD, Kansas City, MO) is one of the top spots in town for burnt ends.
Burnt ends are in high demand and short supply — the crusty clumps of meat and fat are cut from the richly-marbled tip of a beef brisket, and there’s only so many briskets a restaurant smokes in a single day — so we arrived right at opening on a recent Saturday with bated breath.
When staff confirmed that the coveted morsels were available, BB let out a sigh of relief. When the employee behind the counter held up a gnarled mass of meat along with his knife (signaling our burnt ends would be trimmed to order), we both became giddy.
Noticing our enthusiasm, the employee, whose name was Shawn, asked if we wanted to see the pit. Hell yes!
On our way to the kitchen he pulled us towards a makeshift shrine honoring the restaurant’s namesake, who entered barbecue heaven in 2022 at the too-early age of 69. As Shawn explained, “The Big Man had finally retired, bought a house over in Brookside, and then three years later he was dead.”
Inside the spotless kitchen, Shawn opened the smoker door, showing off the innovative elevator-style system that Edwards custom-designed. By having 12 racks rotate through a cloud of hickory smoke, more meat can cook at once and therefore cook a lot longer (lesser establishments pull their product from the pit too early in order to free-up space, resulting in undercooked ‘cue).
When I saw how pristine the cooker was, I had my doubts about the caliber of the meat we were about to experience; I’d been conditioned to assume that a quality barbecue joint had to look a certain way. But Danny Edwards’ disciples proved me wrong — in spite of their spit-and-polish digs, they’re cranking out craveable ‘cue worthy of a greased-up, single-room shack.
Back at our table, a delightful woman named Susan set-down our combo plate. BB went right to the burnt ends, separating out hunks with the crispiest bark from the cubed pieces with more chew and less crackle. A burnt ends aficionado and real mensch, BB pushed a pile of the choicest nuggets towards me.
My first bite perfectly matched the olfactory picture BB had painted: a crisp, slightly tacky coating redolent of caramelized sugar and spice, yielding to a succulent scrap of hickory-perfumed meat.
While BB loaded the charred stubs onto sliced white bread (the classic accompaniment), I didn’t want to add more squish to the carefully-calibrated equilibrium of crunch and suppleness in each bite. These were the elusive meat candies BB had rhapsodized over and I wanted to savor them in their purest form.
Unsurprisingly for a smokehouse of this stature, all the meats on our combo plate were outstanding. I looked past the magenta-hued smoke ring encircling the sliced brisket and ribs, and focused on the grey, gauze-like appearance of the meat (indicating the collagen fully melted out), the true hallmark of expertly-cooked barbecue.
The brisket was plastic-fork tender, with an ideal ratio of crème brulee crust to beef. The pork spare ribs were revelatory, with meat so supple it got-up and walked right off the bone with the slightest poke.
In each preparation the meat was moist enough to stand alone, but I could not resist blanketing it in Danny Edward’s homemade sauce. Shot through with allspice and the slightest amount of cayenne, it had a complexity lacking in some of the hotter and more acidic sauces around town. The fact that the sauce was served warm, straight from the squirt bottle, made it truly irresistible.
After consuming all the barbecue our bodies would allow, BB remarked wistfully, “Remember, we could have arrived later in the day and the burnt ends could have toughened up. It's all about timing. It depends on who's running the smoker, who's cutting up the meat. There’s a lot of variables.”
Lucky for us, we hit-up Danny Edwards when it was operating at peak performance and got to experience proper burnt ends. I now understand Kansas City’s frenzy over some scraps of meat and can’t wait to sample them again on future visits.
All photos by Jared Wheeler
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YUM! YUM! YUM! And I always thought that North Carolina was bbq heaven. I'll have to head to KC! Great article and perfect finger-licking pictures!
Hi,
I agree!!
Looks beautiful and delicious