Best barbecue is in the taste of the beholder
If I’ve learned anything in 10 years of writing about barbecue, it’s that there is no universally accepted standard for what makes great barbecue. One man’s barbecue trash is another man’s barbecue treasure, to paraphrase an old adage.
These wild swings in opinion play out in many different contexts, from a conversation with the person sitting next to you at your favorite barbecue joint to the seemingly lawless confines of an internet bulletin board or restaurant-rating website.
Pitmasters and barbecue-joint owners, for their part, are often flummoxed. Even though they make what most consider consistently great barbecue day in and day out, there will always be a fraction of customers — I’d guess 10 percent or less — who rate the barbecue as bad or poor.
What accounts for this discrepancy? Personal taste, of course. But also changing tastes.
Take brisket, for example. Twenty years ago, the best brisket — as exemplified by the traditional offerings of the erstwhile barbecue capital of Lockhart — featured relatively lean meat with a light dusting of salt and pepper and a touch of smoke.
Today, the “craft” barbecue movement involves densely marbled (veins of fat comingled with the meat) brisket with a heavy coarseground pepper rub and piquant flavor of smoke.
This movement toward big portions, big flavors and artisanal techniques mirrors changes in other culinary traditions of the United States. Burgers, tacos and pizza have all gone the super-sized, artisanal route. Thanks to the rise of food television, America has become Guy Fieri’s Flavortown, and we’re all just living in it.
For Texas barbecue, the changes have been mostly positive. Inspired by the wild success of Franklin Barbecue in Austin, a new generation of pitmasters has taken up the craft and opened joints in every major Texas city.
In Houston, Killen’s Barbecue, CorkScrew BBQ, Brooks’ Place BBQ, Pappa Charlies Barbeque, The Pit Room and Pinkerton’s Barbecue are all what you might call pure-play craft-barbecue outlets.
Other established joints such as Pizzitola’s Bar-BCue, Roegels Barbecue Co. (previously Baker’s Ribs) and The Brisket House have pivoted to more contemporary techniques and menu items in recent years.
The rise of craft barbecue has not been without its ups and downs. The media factor will sometimes produce a misleading buzz. In 2010, Phil’s Texas Barbecue opened to great fanfare in the Heights. But the quality of the food never matched the intensity of the hype, and it closed within a year.
I imagine some of the “old school” barbecue aficionados tried the barbecue there and wondered, “What’s the big deal?” Similarly, roadside stands pop up on weekends across Houston, serving barbecue that ranges from promising to downright awful.
In my experience, the biggest flaw with poorly made, craft-style barbecue is in the application of smoke. The trend toward smokier barbecue often yields an acrid smoke taste and “barbecue breath” — a lingering after-taste of creosote-y flavor hours after you eat.
This is primarily caused by a “dirty fire,” in which improperly dried or “green” wood produces dense black smoke rather than clean “blue” smoke — the holy grail for pitmasters who want to impart a mild, pleasing smoke flavor to the meat.
Even the best barbecue joints have off days, when barbecue tastes acrid or has other flaws. This inevitable inconsistency may ultimately be reflected in the 10 percent of negative reviews that every pitmaster must face.
And yet there always will be barbecue fans who prefer the leaner, less flavorful, less smoky barbecue of times past, no matter what self-styled barbecue experts try to pawn off on unsuspecting consumers. Lockhart, for all its barbecue glory, is now considered by many food writers an also-ran when it comes to producing the best contemporary barbecue in Texas.
And yet if you visit Lockhart, the parking lots at places such as Kreuz Market and Smitty’s are full, and the order lines are out the door. Just as they are at Franklin, CorkScrew or Killen’s. No matter a Texan’s personal preference in barbecue — lean or marbled, more or less smoky — there will always be something for everyone.
Though I’d argue that there is indisputably better and worse barbecue in Texas, there’s certainly no right or wrong barbecue.