In fact, Greg admits, working at Intel prepared him very well to own and operate a restaurant. Greg’s transition from technologist to restaurateur wasn’t as challenging as one might think. Not one to let grass grow under his feet, Greg left Intel in April, 2016 and five months later–on Friday, September 23rd–he launched Stack House BBQ. Like me, Greg is an Intel alum, having toiled at the technology giant for 23 years, five years longer than I. We had the great fortune to spend time discussing all things barbecue with proprietor-pit master Greg Janke. My return visit transpired exactly one week after my inaugural visit, so eager were my Kim and I to experience the bodacious barbecue about which Larry and Deanell had raved. Pit Master Extraordinaire Greg Janke Slices Brisket with Surgical Precision From what my compromised palate could surmise, both were probably quite good though it would take a return visit or ten to know for sure. While the Stack House doesn’t offer anything quite as incendiary as El Diablo, the menu does include two pepper-infused items: Frito pie and jalapeño sausage. The Haven’s Level II chile, affectionately known as “El Diablo” is about the only thing that can quell the stuffiness of a head cold. In the throes of even the most egregious colds, I’ve been known to drive to Santa Fe for some of the Horseman’s Haven‘s combustible chile. Having a bad cold tends to exacerbate my desire for chile, the more piquant the better. You can’t judge barbecue if you can’t imbibe its aromas and taste its subtle flavor qualities. Alas, during my inaugural visit, I was suffering the ravages of a bad cold which rendered my taste buds untrustworthy and enfeebled my olfactory senses. They invited me to discover for myself whether their ratings were hyperbole or justified. Deanell one-upped Larry, indicating the Stack House BBQ’s ‘cue warranted all tens (and she knows what it is to be a ten). Recently when Larry and Deanell rhapsodized poetic about the barbecue at the Stack House BBQ in Rio Rancho, my first questions were “how would that barbecue rate in a KCBS barbecue competition?” Larry gave it nines in taste, texture and appearance. Applying what we learned in such competitions as Rio Rancho’s annual Pork & Brew built upon that knowledge. Much like getting a Psychology degree, obtaining KCBS certification gave us a modicum of knowledge. Over the course of several hours, our KCBS instructor imparted sage knowledge and proven techniques to help us understand thee three most important and very nuanced elements of competitive judging: taste, texture and appearance. Sure, we’d all been eating barbecue most of our lives, but how much did we really know about passing judgement on barbecue? Not much, it turned out. When my friends Larry “the professor with the perspicacious palate” McGoldrick, Dazzling Deanell and Beauteous Barb decided to pursue Kansas City Barbecue Society (KCBS) certification, the words of my Psychology professor resonated in my memory. Reflecting back on all the times my rudimentary conclusions were ultimately proven incorrect, it’s a point well driven. His point–a little knowledge can be dangerous–applies in virtually every arena of knowledge in practicum. He explained that it often takes an experienced practicing psychiatrist several sessions to arrive at a diagnosis and many more sessions before treatment proves effective. One of my Psychology professors cautioned students about the danger of “amateur diagnosis,” the practice of assigning specific psychoses and neuroses to people we meet solely on the basis of our cursory familiarity with the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.
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