Introduction

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WITH SO MANY WAYS TO SPELL IT, INCONSISTENCY JUST COMES WITH THE TERRITORY...

Only the truly mediocre are always at their best, and that certainly applies to barbecue. After all, barbecue is an art, not a science. I’m sure that even Michelangelo was not cranking out Davids every day. Heck, even Willie Nelson spewed out “To All The Girls I’ve Loved Before.” It was probably said best by the seemingly invincible Hall of Fame pitcher Jim “Catfish” Hunter after he lost a World Series game: “The sun don’t shine on the same dog’s ass every day.”

Barbecue is not a pretentious food. “The more simpler the better.” Basically, it is meat slow-cooked over hardwood coals for hours. It is that simple. Different places have their own variations on that theme, but if you don’t have those essential elements, you don’t have barbecue. Or as Pete Jones put it, “If it’s not cooked with wood, it’s not barbecue.”

That might seem obvious, but you would be surprised at what some try to pass off as barbecue. As in any art form, there are no rules, but there are a couple of red flags that you should be aware of:

•Chains are to be avoided—for so many, many reasons—at all cost. Stick with their burgers and extreme fajitas. Never, under any circumstances, order their ribs. They are most definitely grilled over gas and doused with some overly sweet, nasty sauce. (Image F)

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•The word barbecue, or some derivation thereof, should appear in the name of the joint. That is not to say that they can’t serve other things, but the shorter the menu the better. That said, never order barbecue from a place that has an extensive menu, which by the way, includes barbecue. Especially if they give it a cutesy name like “riblets.”

•One thing that’s a lead-pipe-cinch is the bread. We are not talking the finest crusty, whole grain wheat that you have to eat now because it will be stale in an hour. Quite the contrary. We are talking bleached white, void of flavor, chemically altered to last an ice age or two. After all, it is that spongy quality that is perfect for sopping up barbecue sauce.

Which brings us to... (Image G)

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•Sauces are not necessary if the meat is cooked right. They should be used sparingly, preferably on the side. If a place drenches its ribs and ’cue in sauce there is probably a very good reason. If by chance they serve up generous portions drenched in barbecue sauce on a crusty Kaiser roll, GET OUT. Get out fast. If you get caught by an officer of the law for running out on your tab or for various other traffic infractions, simply explain the situation. Not only will he let you off, but he will probably offer a high-speed escort, with lights flashing and sirens blaring, to a worthy establishment. (Image H)

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•Moist towelettes— pulleese! That’s what sleeves and paper towels are for.

•People in animal suits? Just wave as you drive by. (Image I)

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It’s a good bet if... (Image J)

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•The joint is given a person’s name, first or last (though nicknames are a plus) followed by some derivation of the word barbecue. Not only that, but one should be able to find that person at the joint during business hours. The name should not be that of a fictitious character (see “Chains” page 10). Incidental misspellings or bad grammar on signage or menus: a very good thing. Purposeful misspellings or bad grammar on signage or menus: a very bad thing. (Image K)

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It don’t mean a thing...

•My apologies to the crooner who coined that famous phrase, but just because a place has plenty of statues (I dare say statuettes) of pigs or cows does not assure great barbecue. It doesn’t necessarily mean bad barbecue, but I do personally believe that there is a point of diminishing returns.

•Jesus portraits (Bear Bryant in Alabama and Willie Nelson in Texas) and religious scripture do not always translate into heavenly barbecue, but I must say that the only time I was threatened with physical violence during the production of this book was when I was taking the picture of a joint with a sign that read “Jesus Saves.”

•Another staple of barbecue decor is Old Glory. It appears most often in the classic flag form, but also in bunting, stickers, etc. Many places proudly proclaim “American Owned and Operated” just in case you didn’t notice the twelve incarnations of Betsy Ross’ handiwork. (Image L)

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CHURCH

There are no sacred cows (or pigs for that matter). That is why church and ’cue go so well together, though I will not vouch for the quality of the ’cue at these functions. Many churches have a pit, but all too often they are manned by a congregation member who doesn’t know a pit from a hole in the ground.

Often they are catered by a worthy joint, so it’s a crapshoot. But that is not the point. You are giving to the church and to the community which it serves, and even with mediocre ’cue, it is usually a wonderful experience. Go get yourself a plateful and some sweet tea. Mingle with the good folk. They don’t call it soul food for nothing.

AND STATE

Along with a chicken in every pot, you can be assured of a heaping helping of bull and pork. If candidates want to appeal to the proletariat, they had better be prepared to chow down a lot of ’cue and kiss a lot of babies. I heard of a candidate in Texas who was in a heated campaign when he quipped that he was looking forward to the end of the campaign because he was sick of barbecue. You can stick a fork in those political aspirations. He’s done! (Image M)

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COOK-OFFS

These are primarily the domain of serious amateurs, but a few pros enter. As far as I can tell, their motivation is strictly bragging rights, highly sought in the barbecue world. The good folks who pursue these competitions put themselves through Hell for a little money, an enormous trophy and the chance to go to the granddaddies: Memphis in May, Jack Daniel’s World Championship, American Royal Barbecue, or the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.

My problem with these extravaganzas is that the presentation exceeds the actual craft. It has got to the point where Earl and his buddies need set designers and corporate sponsors to compete.

That said, cook-offs are a blast to attend. You can get a real appreciation for what goes into the preparation of great ’cue. Unfortunately, they can’t sell you their wares (for health code reasons), but if you hang out until after the judging (Saturday night) the party really takes off and they will literally throw the ’cue at you. (Image N)

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MAKING THE GRADE

It is not just about the ’cue, though every place in this book has worthy barbecue. However, most of the places that I visited did not make the cut.

I have many ways of finding places, from books, magazines and “best of” lists to just showing up and asking folks at filling stations. Police officers and firemen are excellent sources, but the very best source is a reference from a worthy barbecue peer. I always ask in closing, “With whom would you want to be associated?”

Sometimes they draw a blank, because they just don’t get around. When they do give me a lead they are usually dead-on correct, and when I tell the owners who sent me, they gush with pride. (Image O)

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Because this is strictly subjective, and must pass through a committee of one, perhaps it is easier to state how a place does not make this book. That is easy: have lousy barbecue. A place might have the world’s finest potato salad, but that can never make up for bad barbecue. I can, however, gladly recommend a place with great barbecue and lousy (store-bought) potato salad. I can’t begin to tell you how many places I have been to that were everything I could ever hope for in a picture, and I could just tell that there was a gem of a story behind the place. But I couldn’t be true to you if I steered you to a place where the food is just mediocre. I would leave with tears in my eyes and my credibility intact. (Image P and Image Q)

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Another way to not make the cut is rudeness. I will never send anyone to a place where I feel they might be treated badly. This was extremely rare, but it did happen. I do not equate rude behavior with surliness. Many, many of these places have surly people running and working there, but asking someone to make serious barbecue and be a happy, humble host or hostess is asking a lot. I’ll gladly accept great barbecue even if it is served with a scowl. I have also found that behind that gruff exterior can be a real heart of gold. If you want overly excited service, the chains are your best bet. They are trained to be that way. (Image R)

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About the only other surefire way not to make it in this book is to be overly cocky. “If you can do it then it ain’t braggin,’” I heard “Dandy” Don Meredith once say, but I don’t like it, and it is my book. I showed up at a place that was pleasant enough (I would not call it a joint). The ’cue was passable; not nearly the best, but far from the worst. The story of the owners was well documented and certainly interesting enough, but when I asked the question, “Whose place do you respect and admire and with whom would you like to be associated?” He responded, “I’ve been everywhere and I’ve tried everything, and there’s nobody out there as good as me.”

“Well, thank you very much for your time,” I said and I beat a hasty retreat. For all I care, he has achieved legendary status in his mind and he can be featured in his own Hall of Fame all by himself. God bless him.

Well, Mr. Bovine Breath, how does a place actually make the cut then?

This book is by no means an objective attempt to answer any arguments about which is “the best” barbecue joint. I did not order any barbecue and dash off to my laboratory and examine it under a microscope. However, I have seen a “best of” list where they actually used a caliper to measure the depth of the smoke ring on the outside of a brisket.

In fact, I make a conscious effort not to talk about the food, unless there is something truly unique, like cassava with garlic sauce, strawberry-banana cake, or “brother-in-law.” But if some joint’s ’cue is not up to snuff, it will not appear in this book.

When I approach a promising joint, I survey the exterior. The funkier, the better. A lot of places would get a quick strike against them there, but I never rule them out on that alone. The old adage, “You can’t judge a book unless you walk around in its shoes,” or something like that, certainly applies to barbecue joints. (Image S, Image T and Image U)

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Once inside the joint, I get an even stronger vibe. All my senses start going off. How does this place smell? What kind of music is being played? (I was at a famous joint and Kenny G was piped in. See ya!) What does the clientele look like? Do the folks working here look as if they’ve been here for decades?

If the answer is negative across the board, I might order a sandwich, just to confirm my intuition and if I’m hungry. Usually that sandwich is nothing to brag about. If I’m not hungry, I get a big cup of tea to go, and I’m on my way.

The best places have the feel of entering a small country church where the congregation has known each other their entire lives, where you are immediately recognized as a stranger, but given a real welcome: “What’s your name?”, “Where you from?”, “What brings you ’round these parts?” and “The cobbler’s real good today.”

When you do stumble across one of these places, just let them bring it on. If you are fortunate enough you might get there at an off hour and get a seat at the counter next to a regular who introduces himself, joins in the praise and includes you in the conversation. After you enjoy a wonderful meal and polish off that last bite of cobbler, your stomach full and your soul fulfilled, you leave with a sendoff and an invitation to come back real soon, knowing that the next time you will not be a stranger.

If you think that such places only exist in the movies, or in your grandparents’ memories, you are dead wrong. They not only exist between the covers of this book, but they are out there. I hope that this book inspires you to visit one of these places or find one close to home. They are precious, and they need to be celebrated. They are like a hundred-year-old oak tree with roots in the community, one that has seemingly always been there and is just taken for granted. That is, until it’s gone.

I’m not saying that every joint in here fits that description, but many do. Some of these places are as simple as a take-out window in a neighborhood, or a vegetable stand. Some are homes that are converted into barbecue joints and, yes, some are even part of a church. (Image V)

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This book is not just about the joints, but about the good folks who are the heart and soul of them. The owners, or “caretakers,” as Reverend Richard Street calls himself, and their stories.

Many are born into it; many are called to it, and many, many more just sort of fell into it, but they all are interesting stories that will inspire you to do your best in whatever you do, no matter how humble, or at least inspire you to go out and get some ’cue.

Enjoy, (Image W)

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David Howard Gelin