Description
Like Gaul, J N J is divided into three parts: a shaded, gravel-floored dining area; an area dedicated to hamburgers; and the inner sanctum - a worn counter, a kitchen that resembles a temporary structure built to feed hungry firemen, and the smoker itself, a mammoth, puffing construction that has been built to resemble a splendid steam engine. The brawny, dripping beef ribs are great, and the chicken is fine and moist. But J N J's long-cooked spare rubs are compelling - blackened, rendered of most of their fat, tending almost toward a jerkylike chaw, saturated with smoke, and profoundly spicy even without the sauce, which blankets the pork like a winter coat. J N J may not be the most polished restaurant in Los Angeles, but it may be the closest thing you are going to find to a country-road shack within city limits. See full review.
