Food & Drink: Secret sauce makes Smitty’s dogs sing

B.J. Smith opened Smokehouse Provisions in this same spot in 2016. He expected it to be a neighborhood, family-friendly barbecue joint. Talking to customers, he realized that they considered it a special occasion restaurant because of the prices. They also didn’t feel comfortable bringing their children. And if the Blazers or Seahawks were playing, he would lose customers due to the lack of TVs.

As Smith was rethinking Smokehouse Provisions, his mother, Delores, passed away, and memories of his childhood flowed through his mind like the St. Joseph River. Proust’s childhood memories were sparked by the taste of madeleines; Smith’s childhood tasted like coney sauce. Out of this combination of events, Smitty’s Original Coney Island was born.

“I spent 35 years running from my childhood, and now I’m returning to it,” Smith said.

Before the restaurant opened, Smith wanted his father, Bob, to approve the sauce. Bob Smith’s sauce-testing approach had the precision and focus of Harvey Keitel’s Winston Wolfe visiting the home of Jimmie and Bonnie in Pulp Fiction. Bob Smith drove two and a half days from Arizona, tasted the sauce, made some adjustments, approved the sauce by giving his son a high five, and got in his car and drove back to Arizona.

Smokehouse Provisions was transformed to Smitty’s Original Coney Island in six days.

“Changing a restaurant in six days isn’t easy,” said Smith. “I won’t go into details. I do this stuff all the time and people think I’m crazy.”

The menu is inspired by the South Bend Smitty’s, but with more options. The original Smitty’s served only hot dogs. At this Smitty’s, there are burgers ($5.95 to $9.95), buffalo wings ($6.95), sandwiches ($5.95 to $9.95), Frito pie ($4.95), and a decadent plate of chili cheese fries (the Midwestern poutine) that could easily feed three ($6.95). There are also house-made seasonal pies. The seasonal pie is currently caramel apple, but Smith looks forward to using summer fruit in his pies and serving strawberry shortcake. After Smitty’s settles into its new spot, Smith plans to have specials such as fried chicken and prime rib.

Smitty’s Original Coney Island looks a lot like Smokehouse Provisions. The most obvious changes are a wall of small TVs on the left, and framed photos of the Smitty’s Original Coney Island in South Bend, Ind.

There’s also Tino’s Arcade (named for Smith’s girlfriend’s son) with two driving games called Twisted Nitro Stunt Racing, a Big Buck Hunter shooting game and two old school Skee-Ball machines that a friend purchased from carnies in Chicago. The room still smells like barbecue, and there are logs stacked in front of the counter near the kitchen. A new retro cocktail menu is in the works with some help from Smith’s friends at Swift Lounge in Portland. Soon, parents can pretend it’s the late 1960s and sip boozy drinks while their kids are somewhere doing something.

On my first visit, I got the Coney Special ($11.95) — single burger, coney dogs, fries and a drink. As a native of the Detroit metropolitan area, I have coney sauce coursing through my veins. I thirsted for a bite of the coney dog like a “Naked and Afraid” contestant seeks clean water in the desert regions of Madagascar. The coney sauce was right on — it had a good meaty taste and spice mix with a smooth consistency.

The problem was that it was judiciously spread on top of the dog in a thin, punk-rock mohawk when I needed an ’80s metal mullet of sauce to coat the dog and seep into the bun. The Nathan’s hot dog served on my first visit was a good quality dog; it was just too thick to achieve the proper dog-to-sauce ratio. On a second visit, the hot dog was the long thin dog that Smitty’s has on its website and social media. This slim dog was coated with coney sauce on all sides creating a sauce-y piece of dog in each bite of hot dog that was encased in the bun. The ends of the hot dog floated sadly outside of the bun like arms held out in an unrequited hug.

The burger (which I ordered with American cheese) was perfection. The meat was the right thickness, great flavor and coated in a good, smoky char. It contained the ideal amount of fresh, crunchy stuff (pickles, onions, lettuce) and a nice slathering of ketchup and mustard. It was a pleasing respite from the hideous trend of massive mountain burgers piled with gratuitous and inappropriate toppings to create a cool pic for Instagram. Those are the Kardashians of burgers. This burger is more Jimmy Stewart or maybe even Ernest Borgnine — nothing flashy, just a good, honest burger that will get the job done. The bun was pliable and blanketed the burger and toppings when squeezed together in my greedy little paws.

The fries were a good thickness — not shoestring and not wedges. They were golden and crunchy on the outside, filled with light, fluffy potato on the inside and topped with a sprinkling of salt. On a second visit, I had the onion rings. They had a crispy, panko-y coating that clung to the onion, allowing each bite to have a good amount of coating in relation to the onion.

It may sound impossible given the calorie-laden menu, but save room for the pie. The caramel apple pie tastes like it came from Grandma’s kitchen, if your Grandma was Martha Stewart. Sweet and tart apples are neatly piled in thin layers in a flaky, buttery crust. The top is slathered with a thick coating of caramel.

Smith explained the complications of creating the perfect coney dog — the bun must be steamed, the shredded cheese must be placed on top at just the right time so it’s just slightly melted. The key is getting the sauce right, and Smith nailed it.

Rachel Pinsky can be emailed at couveeats@gmail.com. You can follow her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @couveeats.