When the subject is barbecued ribs, it's always a good idea to provide context. "St. Louis-style" ribs — which can be confusing, because there's a "St. Louis cut" of pork ribs that has nothing to do with the actual cooking style — are generally laden with sauce. Sometimes, the sauce is cooked on as a finish, but in many cases it's used as a braising or stewing liquid. My preference runs more toward using dry-rubs and the smoke from the cooking wood as the flavoring for the meat. I do like sauce, but as a condiment rather than a cook-on. As for the finished product, I think that meat that "falls off the bone" is overcooked. The sweet spot is somewhere before that, at a point where the meat is both dense and tender. In this context, I like Pappy's Smokehouse. I like it a lot. Just be sure to call ahead before you go — more on that in just a minute. Pappy's hits that aforementioned ribs sweet spot, with smoke flavorings from applewood and cherrywood. The smokiness manifests itself as a lingering aftertaste. The main Pappy's sauce is tangy and just less than ketchupy in the thickness of its consistency — it was my favorite among three sauces, although both the not-overly-sweet sweet sauce and the midfire spicy sauce were just fine. And Pappy's has more than just ribs. At other barbecue joints, I've generally found at least one meat not to my liking. Not so with Pappy's, which showed expertise in a variety of meats. The pulled pork was suitably moist and, more important, still in large enough shreds that the meat had good texture. The pulled chicken was similarly in reasonably large pieces and, again, there was no sign of drying out. Pappy's went three-for-three on all counts with the beef brisket. You can also get the pulled pork or brisket as part of a Frito pie, baked beans and meat extended by corn chips, melted cheese and onions. The consistently good preparation of a variety of meats is, ironically, a reflection of the minor controversy that surrounds owner Mike Emerson's business approach at Pappy's. In the weeks that it's been open, I've had any number of readers call or e-mail to say that they went to visit during posted hours only to find that Pappy's had closed early. And, in fact, it happened to us one night. Emerson — a competitive barbecuer who spent a couple of years at Super Smokers in the early part of this decade — is a fanatic about not reheating barbecued meats, so he's been trying to cook just enough for each serving day. And with an out-of-the-way location — between Grand Center and downtown, in a district that's up-and-coming but not yet on most folks' radar — gauging a given day's demand is at best a wild-eyed guess. Running out of food can be frustrating for drop-ins, but it's also as honorable an approach as can be taken for barbecue — so I'd just recommend calling ahead. If you choose to sit down, there are several picnic tables inside the restaurant surrounded by portraits of blues greats, with a huge collection of barbecue sauces shelved high on one wall and a statue of Barney the pig guarding the front table. It is bare-bones (albeit with flat-screen TVs) but very functional, with a blues or classic-rock soundtrack usually running in the background. On one of our visits, a contingent of St. Louis firefighters loaded up a couple of tables, reminding us of an era when a barbecue joint was a gathering place, as in the days when most of the Board of Aldermen could be fund at Roscoe McCrary's place on Parnell Street. Orders are taken at the counter and delivered in plastic baskets to the table if you eat in. Emerson and his staff are really, really attentive to building up their business, constantly working the room and, in both cases when we ordered, plying us with free samples of almost the whole menu.

PAPPY'S review by Joe Bonwich