It really is as good as its sixty-year-old reputation. It is the apotheosis of barbecue. An American Heritage editor, a raw Easterner, found himself in Kansas City a couple of months ago, stopped in at Bryant’s, and loved it so much he drove around town for three hours just to rebuild his appetite and then went back for more. It’s been in the same nondescript storefront in a nondescript neighborhood since it opened in the early thirties. You simply go to a window in the back and say what kind of meat you want (beef, chicken, pork, ribs—the standard order is beef and fries), and out comes a succulent blending of rich, subtle, smoky flavors unlike anything you’ve ever tasted. 1727 Brooklyn Avenue.