Tinseltown’s barbecue may not rival Texas’ yet, but scene shows promise
I usually don’t have high expectations for Texas barbecue outside Texas. Sure, barbecue joints with “Texas” in their name exist in every large American city, but something often gets lost in translation. To outsiders, it seems, our barbecue is roast beef covered in a sweet tomato sauce.
However, I had high hopes for a recent trip to Los Angeles.
A bit of background: Five years ago, I took a pilgrimage to L.A. to check out a new joint called Smoke City Market. It was different from other “Texas-style” joints across the country; the owners had made trips to Texas to learn the craft. They championed the heavy-smokeand-black-pepper techniques of the Central Texas standard bearers. More notably, they also professed to follow our traditions — no sauce, meat sold by the pound and an aversion to using plates and utensils.
It was a great addition to a then-nascent L.A. barbecue scene adopting the spirit of Texas’ craft-’cue movement — Kevin Bludso had opened Bludso’s BBQ in Compton in 2008, and Galvestonian Neil Strawder was serving smoked meats at farmers markets across the city.
Since then, several more high-profile barbecue restaurants have joined the party. Which is why I spent last week revisiting the once promising scene.
Like many of the new upscale barbecue emporiums, Barrel & Ashes combines a full bar and cocktail program with a diverse menu of smoked meats and chef-driven side dishes.
The brisket is the most memorable meat dish here — well-smoked and with a salty rub, though lacking the blackpepper component that elevates the best brisket. Pork ribs were marred by an overly sweet mop reminiscent of Welch’s grape jelly. A plump link of jalapeñoand-cheese sausage — locally made — was all cheese, no jalapeño.
Horse Thief BBQ recently debuted in a prized location adjacent to the bustling Grand Central Market in downtown Los Angeles. The barbecue was generally uninspired, with stringy brisket and dry ribs lacking any noticeable smoke flavor.
Maple Block Meat Co., perhaps the most heralded of the recent openings, proved the most disappointing. The requested lean brisket arrived dry and crumbly. The generously sized pork rib was undercooked and chewy. The house-made, hot-guts-style sausage arrived barely warmed over with unappealingly gray grill marks on one side. All were impaired by an acrid, creosote-y smoke flavor.
One bright spot among the newcomers was Ray’s BBQ, located on a gritty industrial thoroughfare in the Huntington Park neighborhood southeast of downtown. Ray Ramirez opened his bare-bones joint for $20,000 in a nondescript strip center surrounded by liquor stores and taco shops. He’s sourcing Creekstone Master Chef Choice briskets, laying on a thick rub of salt and coarse black pepper, then smoking them in an Oyler rotisserie pit. It was the best Texas-style brisket I tasted on this trip.
And what of the original three barbecue joints I discovered on my previous pilgrimage? Bludso’s is still in Compton and has expanded to an upscale bar-and-barbecue concept on trendy La Brea Avenue. Bludso has even consulted on an outpost in Melbourne, Australia.
In 2014, Strawder opened Bigmista’s Barbecue & Sammich Shop in Long Beach, Calif. Because of complaints from neighbors about smoke, he’s had to switch from a full wood-burning pit to a pellet smoker. But as a testament to his pitmaster skills, Strawder is still producing very good brisket; though short on dense smoke flavor, it’s well-cooked, moist and flavored with his own competition-style rub.
Smoke City Market, the place that first got my attention five years ago, recently closed, reportedly over a lease dispute.
Overall, the foundation for a strong barbecue scene in Los Angeles is there. The proper equipment and ingredients exist, and undoubtedly the talent is there. Angelenos seem to love barbecue. Perhaps the newcomers just need to recommit to the admittedly arduous task of producing consistently great, Texas-class barbecue.
Until then, smoked-meat fans in Los Angeles are just California dreamin’.