Barbecue and sushi aren’t the first two cuisines you'd expect to find cohabitating under one roof. Leave it to Jim Goldman, a.k.a Brother Jimmy, to open Lucky Mojo, which features that oddball pairing – plus Tex-Mex and New Orleans fare. An eclectic, highly uneven menu isn’t the only challenge this new Long Island City spot faces. Lucky Mojo’s space has been afflicted with bad juju of late. In the ’90s it was home to the critically acclaimed Pearson’s Texas Barbecue.
Since then it housed the short-lived Philly’s Smokehouse and the equally short-lived Smokey's 11101 Bar & Grill. The old Smokey’s sign literally overshadows Lucky Mojo’s small wooden sign. The management hasn’t removed the gigantic neon cow head, but they’ve restyled the interior with lots of concert posters, psychedelic paintings, Mardi Gras beads, good luck candles, mojo hands, and Abita bottlecaps hammered into the walls and moldings.
If you’re a sushi traditionalist or a certified Kansas City Barbecue Society judge, do yourself a favor and check your expectations at the door. Thanks to the likes of Hill Country and R.U.B., even novice 'cue eaters realize there’s more to life than “falling-off-the-bone ribs,” oversauced brisket and pulled pork. Heck, let’s face it: the real draw of Lucky Mojo is the opportunity to have a bizarre surf and turf meal set to a rollicking zydeco and funk soundtrack.
The sushi bar offers the best of both worlds, such as they are. A sashimi amuse bouche – white tuna with jalapeño, fluke and seared salmon was respectable enough – but not earth-shattering. The yellowtail black dragon roll comes adorned with jalapeño and black flying fish roe. While it was tasty, it had barely a trace of heat. The sweet Dylan roll had a creamy core of seared salmon and avocado, surrounded by seared tuna.
After cold sake and sushi it was time to switch gears and order up some Abita amber and ‘cue. The sheer novelty of the shrimp and alligator sausage cheesecake proved irresistible. The goopy sauce covering this steroidal Cajun quiche wasn’t exactly visually appealing but it tasted much better than it looked. Smoked gouda and cream cheese combined with plenty of pepper and all that meat made it taste like a spicy lasagna.
As you may have guessed by now the barbecue left much to be desired. The St. Louis cut pork ribs had been smoked for six hours, and then baked for four. And it showed: The bones were blackened and the meat was rendered mushy. The situation was much the same for the brisket; fourteen hours of smoking had turned it into beef pot roast. Surely the Texan waitress who raved about it should have known better.
Lucky Mojo might have the market on sushi-BBQ restaurants cornered, but they need to take their ’cue back to the woodshed.
Lucky Mojo, 5-14 51st Ave., Long Island City, 718-786-7427
