They sure do love their barbecue in the South — in the south of China, that is. Move over, saucy St. Louis ribs and vinegary North Carolina pulled pork. Lemi’s Chinese BBQ, open for a year this April, is doing things Hong Kong-style. That means cooking the meats in an upright box, rather than on a spit or grill, and going for varied textures instead of one-sauce-fits-all.

We walked in past a street window display of dangling crispy ducks and other exotic items seared or steamed to tempt passersby. Scrawled menu cards on the wall are in Chinese, next to a sign that says, "Whole Pig by Order." A tangle of gray, stuffed pork intestines in the steam tray at the end said all there was to say about our not being in Kansas gas-grill country any more.

To underline the point, the TV above the bar near where we sat was pulling in a Hong Kong channel on cable. (After a bout of Chinese hip-hop, Johnnie noticed that a soap opera character was driving on the left side of the road.) At the far end of the main room is a backlit mural photo of a stretch of the city’s skyline.

Chinese menus are usually voluminous, but Lemi’s has that in unusual categories, in addition to barbecue. You can get chow foon (pan fried crispy noodles) and congee (rice porridge) in several variations. There are nearly three-dozen soups from which to choose. Speaking of choices, although the menu is substantial, the kitchen is open to requests for Chinese dishes you’ve come across elsewhere. Owner Yuk Lam Yip, nicknamed Lemi, also co-owns China Jade in Johnston. He seems to like to satisfy customers — the appetizers include French fries for the kids and "Deep Fried Crispy Dough" for the doughboy-deprived.

But the choices that most intrigued us were the more than 100 non-alcohol drinks, mostly concoctions of black and green tea, but also slushies, shakes, smoothies and daiquiris (with rum-flavored syrup). The most tempting were the "bubble teas," containing large pearls of tapioca and a correspondingly wide-aperture straw. My black tea, milk, and almond syrup blend was strong enough to retain its flavor through the melted ice. The grass jelly drink ($2.50) is another recommendation for the curious; the milky tea includes pieces of an agreeable-tasting jellied herbal infusion, purportedly good for digestion. (For the caffeine-corrupted, there is a blend of tea and coffee. Shudder.)

Among the appetizers, an item popped out that we had to try. The fried milk ($3) consists of a half-dozen hot, plump objects half the size of Twinkies, but fully as sweet. Covered with a thin, crispy crust, the thick milk custard is delicious. For another starter, fish maw with shredded duck soup ($11.95) was intriguing. But I had to try Lemi’s hot and sour soup ($2.95), my measuring stick for flavor balance and generosity of ingredients at Chinese restaurants. It was quite satisfactory, with tree ears as well as field mushrooms, thickened, dark brown, and not too vinegary.

Combination plates, from $5.95 to $9.25, are available for dinner as well as lunch. Though the non-BBQ dishes are mostly Cantonese, Szechuan and Hunan specialties are sprinkled about the menu.

As for the barbecue, don’t expect dainty little baby back ribs. Be advised that most of these meats are served hacked into chunks, rather than carved into neat bits. In a style traditional to many cuisines, including South American, you can expect bones, and plenty of them. For a simple, finger-sucking time, though, ribs are available, with the soy-sauce-based char siu sauce. Among more than a dozen other offerings, five are chicken variations, from "salty roast" to a scallion preparation. Roast suckling pig ($13) is served on Sundays, and Peking duck ($14.95) every day.

My two-meat combination plate ($11.95) had very crispy roast duck and an equally appealing crunchy skin on the "roast pig," which is served cold. The former made me work to get much meat amidst the bones. "Roast pork" comes without skin. Across the table, the honey-roasted chicken thighs rice platter ($5.45), similarly cut into one-inch slices, was equally moist and as tasty as my dish. Sautéed bok choy was the accompanying vegetable.

The way in which just about every Chinese restaurant chooses tradition over profit, by not serving dessert, is one of the mysteries of life. Since Lemi’s BBQ offers an even dozen — although five are "freezes," arguably only drinks — we had to try one. That mysterious and herbal grass jelly, with ice cream ($3.50), not only fit the bill, it let us end the meal thinking we had done something healthful.