As someone born and raised in the American South, I’ve never understood why people consider barbecue a summertime food.
If you do it right, barbecue is cooked outdoors over a wood fire. It’s frequently eaten outdoors, too, whether at a friend’s backyard gathering or at barbecue joints with picnic tables outside. Barbecue isn’t exactly the lightest food, with all the well-marbled brisket and thick slabs of ribs – not to mention hearty sides such as mac ’n’ cheese. Just thinking about eating a big barbecue platter on an August afternoon makes me want to lie down in a cool room to nap.
Still, in the minds of magazine editors and television producers, at least, “barbecue season” starts with Memorial Day and runs through Labor Day. Those happen to be the same months I hide indoors with cooling beverages and the air conditioning cranked to an unconscionable level.
Recently, though, I’ve found a way to eat barbecue in the heat of the summer and still actually enjoy it: do it in a bar. Specifically, perched on a tall stool at a long counter where they serve cold beer and perhaps something a little stronger, too.
Recently, I’ve found a way to eat barbecue in the heat of the summer and actually enjoy it
This discovery came to me in a flash of inspiration – or perhaps heatstroke – last July, during a Texas barbecue tour. Yes, it was a bad idea to plan an eating trip to Texas in July. It was also not my idea (see magazine editors and “barbecue season,” as mentioned above).
One morning I awoke early to drive to Fort Worth and visit a joint that had just landed in the upper ranks of some Texas magazine’s Top 50 list. As I was turning into the rutted gravel lot, I could see the line already stretching from the front door, past the pit shed and out into the bright sun of the parking lot.
Faced with the prospect of standing for hours in the direct Texas heat, I erred on the side of self-preservation. I returned to my car and drove downtown to Panther City BBQ, another highly acclaimed joint, where, inexplicably, there was no line at all. I had ample time to go buy a coffee (iced), walk leisurely back to the restaurant, and still be only the third one in line, ten minutes before they unlocked the doors.
In just those ten minutes, sweat was already beading on my brow and my cheeks were beginning to flush. I stepped through the door into the well-chilled air and, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I spied a wondrous sight. Stretching the length of the room along the back wall was a full bar with craft beer taps and shelves lined with whiskey and tequila. I ordered a big platter of ribs, sausage and smoked brisket guisada, carried it across the room and took a seat at the bar. This is downright civilized, I thought.
I ate barbecue at several more bars that trip. At Leroy and Lewis in Austin, instead of waiting in the main line, you can snag a stool at the small L-shaped bar and order “all day eats” that include the smoked L&L Burger and gloriously blue-hued hog-fat cornbread. You have to wait in line to order at Hurtado Barbecue in Arlington, but once you have your tray you can carry it straight across the gravel-lined yard, past the outdoor picnic tables and into the cool comfort of the former Hayter’s Bar, which Hurtado recently rebranded Rodeo & Rye.
Not every barbecue joint can afford a full bar and the overhead that comes with it. Some instead are taking their barbecue to the bar – specifically, to the brewery.
I just returned from another summer Texas barbecue tour (yes, I know) that included two relatively new and delightful spots in Austin. Parish Barbecue steps outside the standard Texas mode with smoked beef chuck and housemade boudin links. A few miles away at KG BBQ, owner/pitmaster Kareem El-Ghayesh, a former financial analyst in Cairo and now a ten-gallon-hat-wearing Texas pitmaster, puts an Egyptian spin on Lone Star classics with za’atar and pomegranate-glazed ribs and pulled lamb shoulder laced with sumac and cinnamon.
Both operate out of mobile food trailers, and their owners have had the good sense to park them semi-permanently next to a brewery – Austin Beerworks in the case of Parish, Oddwood Brewing for KG. When you order at each, you’re handed a little buzzer so you can go inside the brewery, order a fresh pint, and await your food in air-conditioned comfort.
The barbecue bar is not just a Texas phenomenon. At Sam Jones BBQ in Raleigh, you can sip a Sam Jones Old Fashioned with Evan Williams bourbon and crème de cacao. At Lewis BBQ here in Charleston, the line wraps around the bar, where guests can grab a ranch water or margarita while they wait. And just one block away, at Home Team BBQ, you can order the full menu at the bar – which stays open till midnight seven days a week.
This summer, I say: let’s put the “bar” in barbecue – or perhaps the barbecue in a bar. It’s the only civilized way to do it.
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