Sportsman’s BBQ — the taste you can’t quit

I was still a couple of hundred feet away from the barbecue restaurant I was about to visit for the first time when I realized the ’cue joint had already made its critical first impression:

“I can already tell that I’m going to like this food,” I thought.

Driving up, I’d noticed a trail of smoke billowing out one end of the small single- story building on Hixson Pike. That’s the vapor equivalent of a flashing neon sign that reads “Eat Here Now!” sent straight down from hog heaven.

Which brings me to my second impression:

Sportsman’s BBQ smells really, really good. So good, in fact, you may feel compelled to go to church Sunday to ask for forgiveness for just how good the aroma made you feel.

When I opened my car door in the parking lot, the aroma was so powerful that it instantly triggered a flood of fond memories. Memories of campfires and openair meals. Of past summertime gatherings of my vast extended family. Memories of dear old friends searing steaks on backyard grills.

And then there were the hundreds of campfires built during all those brutal winters that Ennis Del Mar and I spent watching over those sheep on Brokeback Mountain. Wait. Ummmm, OK, so that last “memory” was obviously just me channeling Jack Twist from the movie. But stay with me, and maybe you’ll understand why I feel this way.

THE FOOD

If you go to this restaurant, go for the barbecue. This may seem obvious to most, but, incredibly, some people will go to a restaurant popular for its aromatic, award-winning barbecue and, inexplicably, order something absurd like a salad (insert body shiver here). Or a trendy little pile of undercooked “veggies.” Or something “deconstructed” (snicker). Just … No. Don’t be that person if you can help it. Seriously. Unless you have some legitimate medical issue that precludes you from

indulging in barbecue, or perhaps you’ve had barbecue for five meals straight and simply CANNOT. BRING. YOURSELF. TO. EAT. IT. A. SIXTH. CONSECUTIVE. TIME, then keep that sadly insipid side of yourself hidden from any friends or family you happen to be dining with. Order some kind of dang smoked meat from the restaurant that’s known for doing that well. You’re welcome. That said, the ribs at this place are particularly meaty and tender and have that perfectly blackened luscious crust that’s visible only after hours and hours and hours of slow cooking in a carefully balanced environment of heat and smoke. Owners David and Deborah Johns have spent many years perfecting the skill, resulting in their barbecue receiving the People’s Choice Award at Chattanooga Market’s 2016 Beast Feast.

The ribs and the pulled pork I’ve eaten at Sportsman’s are, in all honesty, as good as any I’ve ever tasted. And I’ve tasted a lot of smoked pork.

My only problem with it is in the way it’s offered and, frankly, the price. Unlike most barbecue joints, the rib platters are offered by the half- pound and the pound, not by the expected half-rack or whole-rack options. Turns out, this is a bit of a problem for me.

The half- pound platter of pork ribs I ordered for $12.25 ended up being three ribs, a generous portion of decent (not great) mac-and-cheese, a smallish bowl of white beans so woefully underseasoned that I wished I’d ordered the baked beans and a fairly large round “cake” of cornbread as my sides.

The cornbread, with whole kernels of corn inside, was fine- textured like a dense coffee cake but without the sweetness. I enjoyed it, although I kept thinking that I should have asked for some butter to go on it. Come to think of it, shouldn’t butter and/ or margarine be an automatic accompaniment to cornbread? Seems like a no-brainer.

The cornbread, along with a liberal sprinkling of salt and pepper, went a long way toward salvaging my bland white beans. Thank you, cornbread. And an especially big “thank you” to salt and pepper. You’re so simple, so vital to flavor, so inexpensive an ingredient, yet, somehow, often so sadly underused.

My final bill, with tip, was nearly $18.

Three ri bs, t hough perfect in flavor and texture and nearly all that I’d hoped for, weighed in precisely a half-pound shy of acceptable fighting weight when paired with two so-so sides and water. My sensory organs involving taste and smell were deliriously happy with the experience, but to be honest, my stomach left there wanting more.

The sides were entirely forgettable, as was the French silk pie that obviously came from a box. Tragic. I hear the cobblers are homemade and delicious, though.

But those ribs and sandwiches — I cast a resounding “yes” vote for those. If you go there, just be sure to bring plenty of money to be able to afford to eat as many ribs as you’ll soon realize you could eat after that first bite, OK?

THE SPACE

I can’t imagine recommending this restaurant to the average 20-something hipster or upwardly mobile food snob. Those folks would be better off at places that have phrases like “artisan” or “free range” or “locally grown” sprinkled throughout their menus.

But if you like Tennessee and/or Alabama college football, then the

décor will be right up your SEC alley. The dining room seats around 30, and there are a couple of flat-screen TVs going at all times. At one end of the dining room is a large fireplace which, I imagine, will be a customer magnet in cooler months.

There’s nothing fancy about it, but then, who walks into a building with smoke coming out of it expecting fancy?

THE SERVICE

I could not speak more highly of the great service at this restaurant. True story: On my first visit, I ordered the large pulled pork sand- wich ($5.75) with two sides ($2.25 for a small order of mac-n-cheese and $4.25 for a large — ha! — order of deviled eggs. A total of two full eggs, or four egg halves, for $4.25? Not again, even if they were delicious).

So I got my generously portioned sandwich and proceeded to squirt my usual obnoxious amount of barbecue sauce onto it. Unfortunately, I’d accidentally picked up the “hot” version of house sauce and when I took my first confident, excited, oversized bite, I let out an audible gasp. The heat was so unexpected and, well, so seriously HOT that I couldn’t hide my reaction.

At that point I looked at my dinner companion and said, “I honestly don’t think I’m going to be able to eat this. It’s too hot for me. I’ll just try it another time.” Turns out, the restaurant’s owners had been sitting at the table directly across from us and had overheard our conversation. Next thing you know, our server, Olivia, was placing a fresh sandwich in front of me because they’d overheard what I’d done and wanted me to enjoy my meal.

I was stunned, to say the least, by the act of kindness, as no one in that restaurant had any reason to give us special treatment. It had simply been quiet enough in the restaurant at that particular time for the right generous people to have witnessed my saucy tragedy.

When the couple got up to leave, they stopped by our table to introduce themselves and to make sure we’d had a good experience and to ask us to come back again.

We thanked them profusely and promised to come back, and of course we’ve kept that promise.

THE VERDICT

The rich, smoky flavor and texture of the large pulled- pork sandwich to go is fast becoming a mild addiction. No sides. Just the thing they do best.

And so just yesterday, as I walked out of the Sportsman’s BBQ with my order for the fourth time in about six weeks, I turned and looked down at the little piggy painted on the table outside, took in one last deep whiff of smoky memories and thought …

“Sportsman’s BBQ large pulled pork sandwich to go, I wish I knew how to quit you.”

PHOTO BY CINDY DEIFENDERFER The ribs at this place are particularly meaty and tender and have that perfectly blackened luscious crust that’s visible only after hours and hours and hours of slow cooking.