Special Sauce

“I figured this city could use another
barbecue place,” says Chuck Orlando, owner of Limp Lizard Bar and
Grill. “It seems like we’ve got 100 Italian restaurants around here and
they all seem to coexist just fine.”

Limp Lizard, 4628 Onondaga Blvd.
(472-7831), touts itself as the home of “mouth-watering barbecue, icy
cold ones and some of the best live music in Central New York.” As you
rumble into the parking lot, the Lizard gives off the kind of roadhouse
vibe that’ll thrill your soul with a slice of pre-corporate Americana
down-home goodness. The only chains talked about here are those
propelling choppers and Dyna Glides.

But since you can’t judge a book by its
cover, when you walk in, you’ll be convinced at first sight and smell
that the Lizard is its own King and you might as well turn around and
throw that book against the wall. Who knows, it might leave a lasting
impression. “I try to put up at least one new decoration per day,” says
Orlando. “So by the end of the year, there’s 365 things that have
changed about the place, so you can never say it’s ‘just like the last
time.’”

Celebration of the lizard: The atmosphere of the Limp Lizard Bar and Grill leaves as lasting an impression as their food. 

Like most “authentic” barbecue joints,
the Lizard’s walls and countertops are covered with iconoclastic decor
picked up from traveling highways through Anytown, USA. Although
similar in style and substance to the Dino, the Lizard has evolved into
an entity all its own since opening in 2004. That is as Orlando
intended it to be.

“I’ve always enjoyed doing barbecue and
had been involved with street vending for a bunch of years,” he
continues. “So when I found the right location, I bought the smoker and
started rolling, man. And it’s been rolling ever since.” 

Some of the more popular dishes to come
from the smoke pit include the “kick butt Carolina pulled pork”
sandwich, topped with homemade slaw and served with two sides, costing
$6.99. The “Savory Lizard” burger ($7.99), smothered with grilled
onions and blue cheese, also comes with two sides, just like all their
sandwich platters.

More than 15 varieties of chicken, pork
and beef wraps, sandwiches and burgers are also available, priced
between $5.99 and $8.49. Further up the menu, you’ll find eight
different pizzas served unlike any other place in the’ Cuse: Their
pies, save for the pulled pork and barbecue sauce-dripped Screaming
Pig, are named after the interstates and highways that inspired them.
The “Route 81,” said to be “under construction daily,” is topped with
pepperoni and sausage and costs $9.99. The “Route 84,” which the menu
says is “fresh off the Santa Fe pavement,” features fresh tomatoes,
green peppers, a few hot peppers and your choice of beef or chicken,
all for $11.99. The “Side Street Special” ($12.50) entitles you to load
it up with your pick of ingredients. A selection of Tex-Mex platters,
including a variety of tacos and burritos, round out the menu.

You’ve probably seen the
psychedelic-colored Limp Lizard van driving around town, and no, it’s
not the work of a rabid tripped-out customer. “We’ve got three vehicles
on the road now and we’re doing about a hundred parties a year with our
catering service,” says Orlando. “We’ve been doing more and more
barbecue weddings because it seems to be a lot more affordable during
the recent economic slump.”

The Lizard has already begun selling its own hot sauce,
which is bottled and shipped from Fort Worth, Texas. It’s available in
the restaurant, or at Middle Ages Brewery, 120 Wilkinson St.
(476-4250). The restaurant is currently in the process of having Nelson
Farms near Cazenovia bottle its own barbecue sauce which should be
available for retail later this year, according to Orlando.

“I’ve been a biker for years,”
continues Orlando, “and when we first started out here, it was just
another destination for people to go on their bike. But people slowly
started coming from all over the place and seem to be making it a
destination. We’re smoking food seven days a week and we plan on
smokin’ around for a real long time.”

Once the weather breaks, the Limp
Lizard has an enclosed patio, perfect for getting four-sheets-to-wind
under the moonlight and listening to some in-the-red live music. For
now, the Lizard’s full-service bar and restaurant are open for dine-in
or takeout Sundays through Wednesdays from 11 a.m. to 11 p.m., and
Thursdays through Saturdays from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m.  

Atomic Dog

A little-but-getting-well-known
barbecue sauce cooked up right in the heart of Central New York is
receiving raves among serious smoke-pit cooks. The Yellow Dog Sauce
Company’s barbecue and hot sauce is becoming ubiquitous throughout many
a local establishment, and the owner seems content keeping it a sort of
edible traveling road show. 

“I don’t try to go out too far myself,”
says Barry Raichlin, owner and the man behind the Yellow Dog recipe. “I
like to try to keep it local and make it a homegrown thing, but I have
shipped my sauce as far west as San Diego and as far south as New
Orleans.”

Raichlin says he was inspired to
concoct his own brand of sauce after living in Buffalo for a few years,
whereupon nobody on the local “wing scene” wanted to divulge the recipe
for their secret sauce. So he made his own. “And wouldn’t you know it,
mine ended up coming out better than any of the ones I tasted there,”
he boasts.

Among the spots that sell the sauce are
Eastwood’s Palace Theatre Café, 2384 James St.; Green Hills Farms, 5933
S. Salina St., Nedrow; and, strangely enough, Ack’s Exotic Pets, 8081
Brewerton Road, Cicero. The sauce is also available at Gander Mountain
in Cicero, as well as all the other Ganders throughout New York.
Several area eateries have also wagged the Yellow Dog for
barbecue-based menu items, including Steve’s Restaurant, 401 Milton
Ave., which Raichlin says serves the “best goddamned top sirloin I’ve
ever had in my life,” as well as Mug Shotz, 608 N. Main St., North
Syracuse.

All in the family: Barry Raichlin, his wife JoEllen and dog Sandy bottle a homegrown Syracuse barbecue sauce that is earning raves nationwide.

Asked his opinion of the Dinosaur
Bar-B-Que and how his sauce ranks with theirs, Raichlin remains
impartial—to a point. “Without them, a lot of people wouldn’t know what
real barbecue is around here,” he continues. “I’d like to be in their
spot, ’cause we’d knock ’em dead with my sauce. If I can find a
restaurant like theirs, or Limp Lizard’s, of course I’d jump at the
chance.”

The price varies depending on where you
buy it, but if you order directly from Raichlin, he prefers to sell
bottles via 12-pack at $36. However, he will sell them individually for
$3—and not on the Web, either. “As far as the Internet goes, you know
how many sauces there are in the world and how much a pain in the ass
it would be to make it work smoothly on there?” says Raichlin. “All you
have to do is call me {at 454-5556} and I’ll send you the thing; I’ll
tell you the freight and I’ll send you what you need. Hell, you can
come to the house and pick it up if you want.”

The sauce’s name derives from
Raichlin’s best friend, “my old Sandy,” he says of his yellow lab.
Moonlighting apart from the sauce-making as a driver for Ryder,
Raichlin says Sandy goes wherever he goes, although despite her
tempting pleas, he won’t coat Sandy’s food with the sauce on long road
trips, for obvious reasons.

“I have a lot of fun doing this,” he continues, “I’m not getting rich off it, but if I do, what the hell. I won’t complain.”