Loch Lomond Roadhouse’s pulled pork sandwich and chili share a wicked little secret. They both have a drinking problem.
The pork lolls drippings from a dry rub cure and slow cooking — a 36 hour process in total — that lend a sweet twang to shreds of the rich, genial meat. There’s a comfort to the presentation, one with a familiar appeal, yet elusive nature.
“We use Dr. Pepper as the cooking broth — and a little bourbon,” explained chef Mayme Dyslin. “And around here, a ‘little’ bourbon is about 12 ounces.”
The result is homey and, at the same time, almost elaborate. A mound of slaw on top lends a calm aspect and a contrasting snap without smothering the pork. It’s a deft touch pulled off by another culinary sleight of hand.
“It’s not a traditional cole slaw,” Dyslin said with a cagey smile.
She explains that in her experience, too many southern chefs bloat the slaw with mayonnaise or send it into a vinegar rage. Instead, the Loch Lomond chef eases up on the dressing and replaces much of the vinegar bite with orange juice.
The unexpected approach provides a bright, crisp edge that slivers some of the heavier notes in the pork broth, at the same time perking hints of dry zest and vanilla lurking in the bourbon.
And, the chef adds, “citrus makes the cabbage pop.”
It’s a remarkable sandwich, served on grilled bread with a helping of crispy French fries. And it just may tempt you away from the chili. If so, you will need to make another trip to the place.
Dyslin’s is not a tepid, watery soup. Nor is it a raging pepper beast. And it shuns the adamant Texan stand against beans.
Yes, she uses three different kinds of beans in the mix. But the chili is truly a showcase for beef — ground and tri tip steak — nestled in earthy savor and draped by a plume of smoke. The acrid bite edges into the thick, rustic base (her chili is too thick to describe as a broth; indeed, it’s possible to refuse a spoon and reach for a fork) and wraps the husky meat, lending a bellow to both.
Slithering through this, a sly southwestern spice burrows, but does not interfere. It prefers to rest — evident, not overpowering.
Dyslin roasts bell peppers and whole tomatoes to contribute to the smoky cast. She also adds fresh red onions, garlic, herbs and spices.
Again, however, the secret to her chili comes from a bottle, or two. She cooks down beer and whiskey — 30 ounces this time — with the meat.
“It gets a nice caramel charred flavor,” Dyslin said. “It’s one of my favorites.”
The chef admits that both dishes require a bit of patience and a commitment to good ingredients. But she refuses to compromise.
“That’s the kind of food we want to cook here,” she pointed out. “When you go to a bar, you shouldn’t just expect bar food. It should be made from scratch.”
And with pulled pork or chili — or a slew of other menu items — to select from, you should expect to make several trips to the Roadhouse.
Just leave the alcohol to the well stewed meat.
Dave Faries can be reached at 900-2016
