M-N-M BBQ

2.5 out of 5 stars

2827 16th St N., St. Petersburg. Mains and platters: $7-$27; extra sides: $3-$5; dessert: $4; craft beer: $5-$9. 727-289-8861; mnmbbq.com.


There's something very primal about barbecue. Once our world was transformed by the discovery of fire, the first homo sapiens fell under an alluring spell by roasting the bounty of each day's hunt. Thus began our species' ongoing love affair with smoked meats. And while last week proved seductive flavor doesn't require animal products, most of us remain committed omnivores.

Of course, as we figured out ways to control fuel and contain smoke, the whole process became more sophisticated. We discovered the benefits of cooking proteins low and slow to render the fat, make the meat meltingly tender, and infuse it with maximum flavor. We diversified our sources of smoke and found affinities between hickory and pork, mesquite with chicken, etc. Chefs experimented with dry rubs to add spice and herbs. Sauces offered nearly infinite possibilities on a continuum from sweet to spicy, with bases of tomato, mustard and vinegar.

M-N-M BBQ has practiced this craft since 2001 and recently opened a restaurant just east of I-275 under a big blue awning emblazoned with sharp gold letters hawking "craft meat, craft beer." There's a rathskeller feel inside with exposed brick and clever adaptive reuse of brass headboards against the walls. Every table has a handsome bench in front of the brass frames that's upholstered in deep red faux leather. The opposite side features heavy chairs that anchor the table; the space is, therefore, in sync with the menu.

Meats and sides are created fresh daily. This is not a made-to-order lineup, but rather slow-smoked or assembled ahead to be dished out as you order, so when it's gone, it's gone — till the following day. Platters come in a paper-lined black basket with a roll, dill strip and huge half-moon pita slathered with garlic that blankets the meat. Your decision is settling on the number of meats and sides necessary to fill you up.

Diners choose from customary barbecue food groups: thick sliced beef brisket, shredded pork, pulled chicken, pork spare ribs and smoked salmon. We order some of everything, but our server somehow misses the fish, and we've got so much food that the table decides not to bother.

The meats deliver good smoke flavor; chicken, in particular, is juicy, while ribs are fall-off-the-bone tender. But there's a sameness made more prominent by eating each in succession. Nothing pops, and there's not an arresting dry rub or other enhancement. The impression is middle of the road, which might be a reflection of M-N-M's catering roots, where you cast a wide net to be all things to all people.

We try what's billed as their "sweet" barbecue sauce; there's a distinct backbone of heat even though it's not the "spicy" option. The base is tomato that's surprisingly fresh, without a cloying sense of brown sugar or molasses, and it's the most distinctive item of the night.

While the sides are all flavorful, they're also middle of the road. As with the meats, there aren't any surprises or epiphanies. Mild coleslaw, a slightly sweet potato salad, soft bacon mac 'n' cheese buried in sauce, and standard collards and baked beans; no gobsmacked moments like the remarkable beans at the now-defunct Champions BBQ.

I'm not sure what the intent is with the twice-baked potato. Typically, a baked potato is split lengthwise so that the flesh is scooped out and mashed or left in rustic chunks. It's then doctored by the chef with cheese, and maybe bacon bits or scallions, and returned to half of the potato jacket. Prior to serving, the potato is sprinkled with a layer of cheese and returned to the oven for a second time, hence the name "twice-baked." That way, it's presented piping hot with cheese bubbling or slightly brown. The jacket skin crisps up along the edges and provides contrasting texture to the softer, lush potatoes. Unfortunately, our twice-baked potato is a missed opportunity, barely warm and not served in the skin. It's hard to figure how this qualifies as twice-baked. That said, it's pleasant, which is true of everything on the menu.

Although we dine early on a weeknight, M-N-M, which usually has peach cobbler and bread pudding, is out of dessert. I appreciate the desire to provide fresh sweets, but the expectations for a restaurant are different than those for a catering company. Perhaps over time the barbecue joint will solve this as it adapts.

There's no doubt that M-N-M has mastered the art of smoked meat, but I want more. As I discovered happily when trekking out to UNION72 in Wesley Chapel, it's possible to elevate smoked meat by bringing additional colors to the chef's palate. There's a whole world of complementary flavors — we've come a long way since our ancestors huddled around the fire outside the proverbial cave.

CL Food Critic Jon Palmer Claridge dines anonymously when reviewing. Check out the explanation of his rating system, or email him at food@creativeloafing.com.

Exposed brick and clever reuse of brass headboards give M-N-M BBQ a rathskeller feel. Credit: Nicole Abbett
Exposed brick and clever reuse of brass headboards give M-N-M BBQ a rathskeller feel. Credit: Nicole Abbett
Every table has a handsome bench in front of the brass frames that’s upholstered in deep red faux leather. Credit: Nicole Abbett
M-N-M has practiced its craft since 2001 and recently opened a restaurant just east of I-275. Credit: Nicole Abbett
The restaurant’s big blue awning is emblazoned with sharp gold letters hawking “craft meat, craft beer.” Credit: Nicole Abbett
Here, meats and sides are created fresh daily. Credit: Nicole Abbett
Owner Mike Silverstein prepares a pulled pork plate in the kitchen. Credit: Nicole Abbett
A platter of beef brisket, featuring a pita slathered with garlic, coleslaw and bacon mac ‘n’ cheese. Credit: Nicole Abbett
M-N-M’s pulled pork with collard greens. Credit: Nicole Abbett
Here, meats and sides are created fresh daily. Credit: Nicole Abbett
Chopped oak is neatly piled next to the restaurant’s outdoor smoker. Credit: Nicole Abbett