Top Chef contestant Howie Kleinberg’s take on all things BBQ comes pleases the North Miami neighborhood it inhabits with sweet and mild ribs and chicken gently smoked and sauced. Tasty chicken wings and white turkey chili are crowd pleasers though too sweet and dry cornbread and bland cole slaw could use more oomph. Salads, lettuce wraps and flatbread pizzas—items not usually found in a BBQ joint—will please dieters. Homemade lemonade is nice touch, but the beer and wine selection could use more variety. Servers in the 50-seat cute and clean strip-mall space are friendly if not always on the ball.
Howie Kleinberg may not be your typical barbecue chef, but then again, North Miami is not your average barbecue town. The shiny headed Aventura boy is best known from his stint on season three of the obsessively popular Bravo series Top Chef, where he earned the nickname Bulldog for his habit of attacking teammates and sweating into his saucepans.
And while he does seem to wear the permanently creased brow, saggy jowls and nasty bark of his canine namesake, he also seems to know what locals are looking for when it comes to food.
That may not be what 'cue fanatics might know from the vinegary tang of the Carolinas to the rubs of Memphis and the fall-apart briskets of Texas, but The Bulldog seems to be onto something with his big-portioned, moderately priced, sweet, nothing-too-extreme, fancy, fast food 'cue. I'd dub it BBQ Lite.
And the results had people lining up outside Bulldog Barbecue on a recent Saturday for a wait of more than 45 minutes.
Once we got in we found the clean, sleek 50-seat joint hopping with lots of regulars enjoying the friendly service and Top 40 tunes from the '80s.
On the butcher paper-covered table, however, we found some generic fare that made us wince. And not from the smoke, of which there is hardly a puff. We tried a chicken and baby back rib combo and found the wet, pre-sauced meats nearly interchangeable, tender with not a scrap of gristle or fat but a blah flavor. We tried to sauce 'em up but found the options -- a watery mustard-based version and a ketchupy red one -- too sweet and runny.
The cutesy menu encompasses lots of plates that would make true barbecue fans choose to die before putting into their mouths (BBQ lettuce wraps and BBQ chicken flatbread? Really!) Both are oddly sweet and made with cold shredded chicken that could really use a kick. Skippable sliders utilize the same stringy chicken meant to be tucked into a puffy potato roll.
We all enjoyed a small platter of chicken wings, five tawny triangles of meat jonesing off the bone and served with a thick buttermilk-blue cheese dip and strips of crispy celery.
Also good is a bowl of white chili loaded with white beans, ground turkey and a sour cream spiked with scallions in a hearty scramble of flavors -- though I'd have liked mine more without the leftover cornbread croutons that show up again on a zipless chopped salad.
Staples like cornbread have a generic from-the-box flavor with a disconcertingly sweet and dry crumble. So, too, did a teeny-tiny plastic dish of creamy long-stringed coleslaw. It wasn't bad, but it lacked the tangy pep that distinguishes it from the deli department at Publix.
Sides are up and down. While an ear of soggy roasted corn seemed as if it had been soaking in a hot bath, burnt end beans is a hunky, tasty sample of brown sugared baked beans loaded with crispy brisket butts. The chipotle fries are thin, hot and crispy but not at all spicy. Mac and cheese suffers from dryness and a sour bite of blue cheese that had my kids turning up their noses. We all loved the sweet made-on-the-spot lemonade but found a root beer float flat and the wine and beer selection paltry.
The soft, wet and hugely portioned beef brisket seems to be channeling a Jewish mother's comfort food rather than anything I've sampled in the BBQ belt from Memphis to Austin.
A mighty bowlful of shrimp and grits is a soupy version of classic New Orleans fare that doesn't live up to its roots. Four meaty crustaceans are slightly overcooked and served on top of an overly wet but strangely chunky bowl of bland corn meal mush.
There is so much food it is tough to consider dessert but the seasonal cobbler with its rugged buttery lattice top is one finale that I wouldn't boot off the show -- even if the filling is more like strawberry jam than fresh cooked berries. Hot chocolate puddn' cake -- despite the attempt at down-home spelling -- showed up looking and tasting more like that ubiquitous restaurant molten chocolate cake.
Overall, The Bulldog seems eager to please with his moderately priced strip mall chow -- even if he never seems to come out from behind the open kitchen-bar and shake a hand or sign an autograph. Just don't expect verisimilitude. What do you think this is, TV?
