(This post is excerpted from Scene Dining Editor Doug Trattner’s weekly CLE Bites newsletter. Want more stories like this directly in your inbox every Saturday morning? Subscribe here.)
On the same day, we watched as the fate of two area barbecue businesses played out in very different ways. One announced that it was closing, while the other heralded the arrival of a long-awaited brick-and-mortar restaurant.
When we examine the reasons why particular restaurants succeed or fail, we don’t give momentum enough weight. We dive straight into the quality of the food, we pick apart the service, we rate the “vibeyness” of the rooms. But what if we’re ignoring the most significant determinant of viability?
Take Proof Barbecue. Owners Michael Griffin and Dave Ferrante spent the better part of three years converting the lower level of the Crust Pizza/Visible Voice Books building in Tremont into a sleek subterranean saloon. The pair – along with consulting chef Pete Joyce – hosted the customary “friends and family” events in advance of the public unveiling, which was scheduled for March 18, 2020.
Alas, that did not happen thanks to Covid.
“It sucked the life right out of us,” Griffin told me at the time. “You’re on that high of opening, with construction workers, new staff, pop-ups and training and then crash, done. It was really hard.”
Proof ultimately debuted in May of that year, into a restaurant world that was nothing like the one that existed in the initial business plan. One where face masks, social distancing and contactless menus were de rigueur. All of those obstacles still were better for business than the mantra of the day: “stay home.”
Despite solid fare and a stellar patio, Proof struggled to gain traction in Tremont. The owners ticked off things like the small kitchen, basement setting and other factors when they announced, two years later, that they were pulling up stakes and relocating to Ohio City.
“We were never really able to find solid footing in our Tremont location,” Griffin reasoned.
Proof was out of commission for the year and a half it took to ready the former Nick’s Diner space in Ohio City. At long last, Proof 2.0 opened its doors in March of 2024, four years to the day of its original planned opening. This week, despite positive reviews and steady, if not robust, business, the owners of Proof pulled the plug.
“For whatever reason, I could not get this thing consistently over the finish line,” Ferrante explained.
Ever since the rug was pulled out from under the restaurant at inception, Proof never managed to gain momentum. Momentum, as any sports fan will tell you, often determines the outcome of the game. With it, teams win. Without it, well, better luck next year.
Joe’s Barbecue offers a masterclass in momentum building. In 2017, Joe Menendez started selling ribs from a pop-up tent on a gravel parking lot in rural Brimfield Township. He did things right: cooking meats low and slow in a 100-percent wood-fueled smoker. Along the way he added brisket, pulled pork, half chickens and turkey breast to the mix. As demand continued to outpace supply, he upgraded to a 500-gallon smoker and built a trailer to house it.
It still wasn’t enough to satisfy the following that he slowly, methodically cultivated.
“By the time I built this trailer we were selling out of all our food in an hour,” Menendez told me a few years back.
Take it from me, co-author of Michael Symon’s “Playing with Fire: BBQ and More from the Grill, Smoker, and Fireplace,” when I say that Menendez is making some of the best barbecue in the entire region. It’s why he habitually runs out of food three or four hours – and 600 to 800 pounds – after hanging out his shingle for the day. Even after upgrading, once again, to a submarine-size offset smoker, some poor schmuck will have little to show for his long drive into the hinterlands (assuming he missed the Instagram update).
Running out of food might suck for the customer, but it’s the key to Menendez’ success.
“If I’m not selling out, the food goes to waste,” he explains. “If it goes to waste, we have to pay for it and that gets really expensive.”
Since starting out, Menendez has kept his head down, improved his product, and played the long game. His alfresco set-up – the trailer-housed smoker and the nearby food truck that served as point of sale – were parked on a family member’s commercial property. For years, the goal has been to erect a brick-and-mortar structure on the parcel, an ambition that seemed to shift out of reach whenever he got close. Obstacles originating from the local zoning commission unfairly targeted Menendez, who they lumped in with “fly-by-night vendors.”
I have waited in that long line. I have experienced the existential dread that wells up when customers ahead of me appear to order their weight in barbecue. I have tasted Menendez’ brisket, ribs and pulled pork, so I know very well what I would be missing if those items get 86’d prior to my turn.
Next week, Menendez will achieve his goal when he opens the doors to Joe’s Barbecue. The brick-and-mortar restaurant not only allows him to move his kit indoors, it offers a spacious setting with indoor and outdoor seating. Sure beats the gravel lot.
Once again, Menendez has upped his game, adding a second 1000-gallon offset smoker as well as a wood-fired rotisserie smoker that he will use for ribs, chicken and brisket burgers. In addition to the smoked meats, customers can look forward to a wider selection of sides, desserts and beverages.
It’s taken Menendez nearly nine years to get to this point, a slow and steady achievement that was built one customer at a time.
“We’re out in the sticks,” he says. “All our advertising is word of mouth. The quality speaks for itself.”
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