Meaty, dry Texas barbecue comes to DTES with Dixie’s
Nicely-flavoured brisket and pork ribs go well with pecan pie, writes Mia Stainsby.
At Dixie’s BBQ, I don’t need my sauce-defying HAZMAT suit. This is Central Texas-style barbecue, which means it’s not gooped up (apologies to Gwyneth) with sauce. It relies on wood smoke and spice rubs. Perhaps Texans have also had it with wrecking their clothes with errant sauce.
Texas, like Alberta, is all about beef — although pork is just fine, too. Recently, in Peru, I realized how Americans view barbecue. A Peruvian asked a trio of American guys at our communal table to describe American food. “Barbecue!” they chorused.
Dixie’s, like typical Texan barbecue joints, isn’t all prettied up. It’s rough and tough and it’s in the Downtown Eastside; the corrugated metal walls are full of bullet holes.
“The metal came from a barn in Surrey,” says Christina Cottell, an owner with Shoel Davidson. The duo also operate Gringo, an unpretentious taco bar in Gastown (with plans to spawn more of them).
Cottell had some “guys take them to Squamish and shoot them full of bullet holes.” She’s referring to the corrugated metal, of course.
The bill at the end of the meal comes in a spent bullet casing (or “thingy” as Cottell calls it).
The rear end of a distressed, faded red Ford pickup truck affixed to a wall was foraged from one of those car-crushing places, and it looked like it had tales to tell. Our super-friendly server had a Matthew McConaughey Central Texan drawl at times and hit the mark with an “Aw-raight, aw-raight, aw-raight.”
“That must be Patrick. He’s one of two actors with us and he does have a little sway to his voice,” says Cottell. “He gets into character.”
Cottell, who once lived in Texas, prefers Central Texas barbecue.
“I never liked the barbecue options we have here with the sauces,” she says. The famous Franklin Barbecue in Austin, (Central Texas) got so popular that people rented out chairs and even sold places in line until Franklin put a stop to the practice.
South Texas goes for thick, molasses-like sauces, and East Texas likes the meat marinated in a sweet, tomato-based sauce. And in other parts of the Southern U.S., like Kansas and Tennessee, thick, sweet sauces reign.
“To me, it’s sweet and cloying. I like the taste of protein,” Cottell says. “The only thing sauced are our ribs, which take a peach chipotle glaze.”
Dixie’s chef Alex Newton, who was formerly with Irish Heather and Big Rock Urban Brewery, is not exactly a seasoned pit master but he’s got the equipment — a 900-lb horizontal smoker, custom built in Houston, that can smoke 12 briskets.
“A guy comes in at 8 a.m. and fires it up to 250 F. The briskets stay in for eight hours and
they’re ready at 5 p.m., which is why we don’t do lunch. The ribs take two and a half to three hours,” says Cottell. The briskets are wrapped and sit for an hour to prevent mushiness.
Both the brisket (sliced to order, $9 for a quarter-pound, $13 for a half-pound and $24 for a pound) and pork ribs ($15 for half rack, $26 for full) are really tender and nicely flavoured with smoke and spices but I thought the ribs, especially, could have been juicier.
In Texan style, sliced white bread (pretty much the Wonder Bread kind) and pickles come with the meat. Sides (like mac and cheese, beans, cornbread, buttermilk biscuits, creamed spinach, chili, or potato salad) are either $3 or $5 depending on size. I’d say hold the white bread and order the cornbread or biscuits.
The coleslaw is pretty much a given as a balance to the meatiness. It’s pretty standard slaw, but was short on seasoning.
Fried chicken ($6 per piece) comes dramatically large but proved to be mostly cornmeal batter. The chicken inside was small, shrivelled and unsatisfying. I wouldn’t recommend it.
As for the pecan pie, I’m not particularly fond of them but this one? Go for it — it’s not too sweet and the pecans are smoked with Jack Daniel’s-soaked wood chips.
There’s an extensive bourbon list and whisky flights, but a limited choice of beers and wine. Cocktails are served in jars and have names like Back Porch Lemonade.
LORDY, LORDY, LOOK WHO’S 40
A ruby anniversary for a restaurant is unusual, even more so under a single owner. So it is with La Piazza Dario Ristorante in the Italian Cultural Centre.
“There are many beautiful stories and events that happened over the span of 40 years,” says Lidia Ranallo, who operates the restaurant with husband and chef Claudio. “We have a customer who has been a faithful patron since day one, and he just celebrated his 103rd birthday two weeks ago. For so many, the restaurant is like their home.”
It’s old-school Italian, and they still make zabaglione tableside. Now son Marcello is part of the business and daughter Jessica, a graphic designer, looks after the website, menu, and promotional materials. The restaurant has hosted many a meaningful birthday, wedding, first communion and confirmation.
Happy birthday to a piece of retro Vancouver