Hi, May I Help You?
A trip to Kansas City's Gates Bar-B-Q
Kansas City has a dizzying array of establishments featuring its world-famous barbecue — from Joe’s, where Anthony Bourdain’s acolytes queue for hours outside the gas station-cum-restaurant, to Jack Stack, for those who prefer their ’cue with a touch of class — but there are only two spots that can justifiably be called KC institutions: Bryant’s and Gates. After multiple visits to Arthur Bryant’s, I was eager to try the only other place in town in continuous operation since 1946 and with an equally-loyal local following, Gates Bar-B-Q.
Like Bryant’s, Gates traces its roots back to the originator of Kansas City barbecue, Henry Perry, and to the historic 18th and Vine Jazz District. Both restaurants offer a vast menu of smoked meats, sauces in varying heat levels and classic sides. Yet the similarities end there. Whereas Bryant’s screams BBQ joint — with its sticky surfaces, yellowed walls and centerpiece soot-covered smoker — Gates is gussied up in the guise of a family restaurant, a la Perkins or Friendly’s.
Owned by the same family 78 years after its founding, Gates is a thriving mini-chain with six regional restaurants. Rolling up to the branch at Linwood and Main (3205 Main Street, Kansas City), I was instantly reminded of my childhood McDonald’s, with its mansard roof and curved, tinted glass atrium.
While the building’s design vocabulary signals fast-food (the bad-for-you food and drink, the lowbrow experience) the “Struttin’ Man” on the facade’s illuminated sign indicates quality and sophistication. Donning a top hat, a tuxedo and spats, with a cane in his left hand and a bag of Gates barbecue in his right, this gentleman upholds Gates’ claim “that barbecue had been elevated to a respectable industry.”
Stepping inside, the wood paneling, elegant wallpaper and soundtrack of perky Jazz music set the tone for an experience that is a cut above the rest. What really distinguishes Gates and what has endeared it to generations of Kansas Citians, though, is its idiosyncratic service, embodied by the trademark greeting “Hi, May I Help You?” Emblazoned in red neon above the cafeteria trays and uttered by every employee as you step up to the counter, this folksy catchphrase is as important a part of the Gates experience as the barbecue itself.
I had been forewarned that the welcome isn’t always as genteel as it was originally intended — employees sometimes shout “Hi, May I Help You?” at customers when the line isn’t moving quickly enough — however, the woman who took our order was as sweet as yammer pie.
That is, she was pleasant until she accused BB of neglecting to pick-up a tray for our eat-in order (he was holding it out of view, below the tray rail). This is one of those places where you’d better know the procedures and protocols or it ain’t gonna be pretty. [BB, in turn, chided me when I answered that yes, we wanted seasoned fries. Unbeknownst to me, seasoning is a new-ish offering and this is one of those places where you don’t diverge from tradition.]
Unfortunately, this is not one of those classic barbecue spots where you can marvel at the pitmaster’s work behind the counter. Gates’ pit is concealed behind a highly-sanitized vision of food service that attempts to keep the mess out of the customer’s view. Yet the tile facade is spackled over in decades of accumulated smoke and grease. This is a barbecue establishment, after all.
We opted for the Mixed Plate, which includes ribs, beef, ham and fries, an ideal way to sample a cross-section of the menu. I chuckled audibly when a massive platter, smothered in sauce and topped with a mess of steak fries, appeared. It was the size of a healthy newborn baby.
We collected our scale-tipper, grabbed black plastic utensils and rounded the corner into the Signature Dining Room. Decked out with a pressed tin ceiling, cafe curtains, patterned tile floors and an old-fashioned coat rack (with hooks for your top hat, I presume) the room feels rarefied. Yet the cozy booths lining the perimeter remind you that you’re at a family-friendly restaurant and make the space feel homey.
I went straight for the beef, which was tender and fatty like the best Jewish brisket. The sauce had a life-affirming zing, with loads of black pepper and celery seed. While horking meat into my mouth, the loveliest woman came to our table and asked if she could get us anything. I was not expecting table service but before long we had four different kinds of sauces and a mound of spice-laced dill pickles, plus refilled waters, set before us.
I could not get enough of the tang. My approach was to take a slice of the utilitarian white bread, pile it high with beef, drown it in sauce, top it with the wavy pickles, eat and repeat.
Even the so-called mild sauce has a lip-tingling heat, so I was grateful for the unseasoned fries, which weren’t remarkable on their own, but acted as a much-needed palate cleanser.
Once we had cleared enough fries we moved onto the ribs. BB, a Kansas City-native, thought they were slightly undercooked (the meat wasn’t falling off the bone), but as someone who grew-up outside of the barbecue belt, I thought they were delightful. BB’s a big fan of the ham, which was good for what it was, but I prefer sliced pork (my go-to order at Bryant’s) to spiral ham.
I’ll admit that I didn’t have high hopes for Gates. With its weirdly corporatized vibe I assumed Gates was riding high on a combination of nostalgia and value. But I really enjoyed the barbecue and was utterly charmed by the overall experience. While I’m bound to hit-up Bryant’s for the sliced pork sandwich or LC’s for ribs next time I’m in town, I understand Gates’ lasting popularity and understand why “Hi, May I Help You?” is such an important aspect of Kansas City life.
Photos by Jared Wheeler
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Love this. Kansas City is such a great BBQ town.
There may be fancier places, but Gates is the only one that I visit every single time I'm in KC.