HOLY SMOKES
corporate career can be very rewarding. After a couple of years in the trenches, learning every aspect of the company and every trick in the book, an ambitious and committed young professional can quickly rise up the ladder to the managerial ranks, along with all the perks that come with them: high salaries, travel perks, expense accounts, abundant benefits, and that corner office with a view.
I know, because I lived that life for over a decade and a half. But more and more, the dream is changing, especially for millennials: to be an entrepreneur, and be one’s own boss.
The goal of many graduates now is not to work for a multinational, but to create a start-up that may someday be a multinational. It can be an app, a service, or for most: a food business or a restaurant.
But it’s more difficult than it seems. The restaurant business is hard. Let me stress that point: it’s very very hard. There are a hundred details to handle daily, and often the food can be the least of the worries. There’s rent to cover, food inventory, payroll, marketing, the absentee wait staff, and the recalcitrant chef. Many fail, but sometimes, the stars align, fortune smiles down, and a new establishment from first time restaurateurs succeeds beautifully. Such is the case with Maisa Acosta, Juano Gutierrez, Paolo Quimson, Chef Red Espiritu, and their Holy Smokes Low & Slow BBQ.
When I heard of their new restaurant a couple of months ago, my initial restaurant was, verbatim: “Barbeque again? And in the Poblacion, that hipster district…. again?” I admit, I was very much a cynic, and frankly, not too excited. But in trickles at first, then in a deluge, the food writers and restaurant critics I trust most, the most respected in our industry — people even more jaded than I am — started posting raves about Holy Smokes. Many of them had made their way to that
HOLY SMOKE SIS a true-blue, old-fashioned, no fri ls Austin, Texas-style barbe que restaurant, inspired by one of the true master soft he craft: Aaron Franklin.
repurposed retro house on the quiet Matilde St., the one with the Balete tree in front, and unearthed a gem: a trueblue, old-fashioned, no frills Austin, Texas-style barbeque restaurant, inspired by one of the true masters of the craft: Aaron Franklin.
And it’s not just the food industry gurus or a former President of the Philippines who are drifting to Holy Smokes. Right after the gates open at 5 p.m., a queue already forms. There’s a lot of take-out business, but I prefer dining in the restaurant; it’s cozy and cool, nothing pretentiously cute. Simply a perfect environment to enjoy smoked meats and smack my lips afterwards. The fact that Joe’s Brew and a Ransom G&T are available only makes the experience even more perfect.
But ultimately, the meat of the matter here is, well, the meat. Slow cooked in a car-sized smoker filled with santol logs, for as long as 16 hours, a pitmaster has to work through the night, starting at 10 p.m., to have the meats ready by opening the following day. The result? Absolutely fabulous briskets and ribs, homemade bacon and sausages, and a killer roast chicken. There are three house sauces, but I don’t use them. The meats already have 11 secret herbs and spices, and I find that they’re quite sublime on their own. Honey-drenched cornbread pudding as a side dish, and for dessert, home baked turtle pie. Down home goodness.
Texans say that barbeque is food for the soul, and it’s true in this case. Holy Smokes is all about soul food.