Once again, at the outer edge of the sphere of influence of Memphis barbecue, patterns begin to surface. It’s “Memphis Q,” but with a different twist.

To the normal Memphian, Carlisle, Ark., hovers in a fuzzy zone some 100 miles west of the Bluff City, and the folks there slow-smoke their hogs very much the way we do in Memphis. But they finish their sandwiches more like the treatment given barbecue at Craig’s (see my previous post, “At Fringe of “Memphis”, Craig’s is Center for Many”), than the way it is most often done in the land of Elvis.

At Nick’s Bar-B-Q, those outer limits become something of a Back to the Future experience as Q-seeking customers converge with Clay Waliski, third-generation owner. Oliver and Terry Holler have just stopped-off in a DeLorean that is completely decked-out with the entire Back to the Future riggings (yes, Flux Capacitor and all). They are on a cross-country drive in support of finding a cure for Parkinson’s for “to the future.org.” They look satisfied, as they pull down their gullwing doors. As South Carolinians, they, too, are particular about their barbecue.

“How did you like Nick’s?” Terry: “We tried both the pork and the beef. Their sauce was a good blend of the thin, vinegary kind that we are used to and the thicker tomato style. We liked it, AND they have these little pies that are delicious!" “Oliver, does this ride really take you back to the future?” “Yes, the barbecue future.” And off they went.

Inside, with Space-Age laser thermometer in hand, Clay greets us within minutes of our food delivery. Pausing for science before shaking our hands, he shoots a searing red beam of light at the edge of our sandwiches to read the temperature. “Good, 143 degrees. Those are perfect barbecues!” ’Nick’s is in a new building on the back lot of the property, where the original barn-style restaurant was located. If Clay’s granddad were to return, he’d surely feel like Michael J. Fox darting in and out of time slots within his hometown street scene.

The new Nick’s is brick and rather suburban looking. Judging by the photo on the wall, the old looked old, even when it was new. Clay’s grandmother, at 89, still makes the sauce from a ketchup and garlic salt base. The sauce is put onto the sliced meat while it is on the griddle, just before it goes onto the bun. It’s a similar process to Craig’s Bar-B-Q down the road, and both are different, in that way, from proper Memphis barbecue, although the meat is cooked “slow and low,” as we do in Memphis.

“We heat them together on the griddle to get the sauce hot. It’s no good to put cold sauce on warm meat, but we try not to let the sauce influence the meat too much. The bottom line is, it’s all about the slow smoke. We use hickory,” says Clay. “I’ve had Mongolian barbecue and barbecue in China, and I can tell you that there is no better barbecue than what we have here in the Memphis area.”

Clay is meticulous in the details, planning and strategizing for success – into the future. “I buy my meat, hams, like futures. Whichever supply house meets our strict specs and locks in the best price, gets our business. Our objective is to deliver a quality product, consistently to our customers at the best price.” Patricia has been a waitress at Nick’s for a long time, and always recommends the dry ribs.

“I think our ribs are the best,” she says. “Clay and I and everyone here realize that what Nick started is something special. We want to take after him and how he ran the place. We don’t want to take that for granted and run after a dream and lose it all.” Clay concurs, “We’d like to think, aside from the technology that we employ for tight controls, that if you closed your eyes and bit into one of our barbecues, you wouldn’t know the difference between one from the 1970s or one from our time period. It’s that consistent.”

One more zap with the laser-thermometer. “Yep, that’s a perfect barbecue!”