The Stockyards Review: The Stockyards Smokehouse & Larder

A new barbecue called Stockyards is in the area. It has been granted faultless 5's by NOW magazine. When you hear about new barbecue's your first thought is to be wary. I'm no different particularly as I make great barbecues myself. The top southern food and barbecue food has always been purchased at Cluck, Grunt n' Low and Walmer. These have now been closed down and the establishments that are left leave little to write about. Finding a good barbecue joint is not easy. Coating a thick smokey, sweet sauce over anything can hide the worst cooks mishaps. OK, so I'm skeptical before I even start. Along with a few friends I make a decision to find out what all the buildup is about.

We commute on the subway before getting on the bus traveling West. Past the up and coming district which boasts a undertaking that combines artists' lofts with a museum and gallery called the Artscape Wychwood Barns. The Stockyards is on the St Clair strip, a district on its way up. There is a large Starbucks nearby.

A bit of the Friday night rush goes out and we stand inside, squashed beside diners who are bent over paper-lined cast iron pans of barbecue. The din of a busy restaurant is fantastic. The telephone never seems to stop ringing, diners talking, the cooks yelling orders and instructions to each other. The amount of people waiting to eat, eating, waiting to pay is outstanding. As there were four of us, none of us rated our chances of getting seats together were great until a woman sitting at the counter catches hold of me.

It is a friend of mine whom I haven't seen in years called Gail. "All the people I work with highly recommend this place," she says. I observe that she hasn't any food to which she replies that she is a vegetarian. I make a mental heed to check the menu and sure enough, the only veggie options here are sides. Gail says she won't eat the fries because they are fried in lard. She also identifies that tonight is rib night - an affair that takes place three times a week at the Stockyards, on Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays, the days that they fire up their smoker. The place is frantic and it's great that Gail is acting as a guide whilst the staff are boxing up take out orders for the hungry hordes.

When a unoccupied space opens up at the massive counter, directly across from the cooks, we snatch it and put in our orders, then go to the front to pay. We forgot to tip as it was so hectic. The service and take-out option was very re-mindful of a fast food chain. We get our own drinks from the refrigerator; my friend has a homemade lime-ade permeated with mint that she pronounces 'tasty' ($2.75) Fortunately none of us are drinkers, as The Stockyards doesn't yet have a liquor license four months into trading.

"So has it been busy like this from the start?" one of my friends talks to a guy in the back, who turns out to be the proprietor, Tom Davis. A tall, spirited man, he's affable and businesslike and smiley - as well he should be, admitting it's been 'barmy' from the start.

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