An appreciation of old-school Houston barbecue
“No seasoning. No bark. No fat. Sliced thin.”
That’s how pitmaster Russell Roegels describes the brisket he cooked for many years. Unlike younger pitmasters who learned to cook by watching the instructional videos of Austin pitmaster extraordinaire Aaron Franklin, Roegels is one of the few craft-barbecue pitmasters who cut his teeth practicing techniques that originated in the 1970s and ’80s.
“I grew up cooking old-school barbecue,” the owner of Roegels Barbecue says. “I actually cooked that way until about six years ago. I still have a great appreciation for it.”
He is not alone. Though the high-profile, Instagram-worthy craft-barbecue joints get most of the publicity, there is an entire underworld of old-school barbecue joints that exist throughout Greater Houston. I’d estimate that for every one of the former there are 10 of the latter that crank out good-tomiddling barbecue on a daily basis.
And there is a silent army of customers who patronize these workaday restaurants and who mostly reject the idea that craft barbecue is better or worth the premium price that often comes with it.
Frederick Ercia, a local barbecue fan who is well versed in both craft- and old-school barbecue traditions, represents what many Houston consumers feel.
“There’s not enough appreciation for oldschool Houston barbecue,” Ercia says. “So many of us grew up on this. I still miss the days when Luther’s was all over town.”
Indeed, for old-school adherents, the glory days of Houston barbecue are represented by places including Otto’s, Luther’s and Thomas Bar-B-Q.
The original and most famous Otto’s on Memorial is long gone, bulldozed over and replaced with a parking lot, though remaining outposts exist in Stafford and downtown Houston. A new Otto’s location in central Houston has been announced; it will still use “the old recipes.”
Luther’s was acquired and absorbed into the Pappas Bar-B-Q chain in the midaughts. Thomas Bar-B-Q locations have changed ownership over the years, and there are a few remaining.
So what exactly is oldschool barbecue? It can be traced to a time when “modern conveniences” such as automated smokers and “low fat” and “no fat” recipes were all the rage.
The distinction between craft and old-school barbecue is most apparent in the way brisket is prepared.
Old-school brisket is prepared in the manner described by Roegels — almost all of the fat is trimmed off before or after the cook, and hardly any seasoning is added to the outside, resulting in a brown or gray outside layer or bark.
And unlike craft-barbecue joints, which almost exclusively use the highest Prime-grade brisket, most oldschool joints happily make do with Select or Choice grade.
Also, the brisket is often butchered so that the “point” and “flat” portions of the brisket are separated, either before or after it is smoked. The resulting chunk of point is chopped for sandwiches while the slab of flat is used for sliced beef.
Because most of the flat has been stripped of fat, the meat can dry out fast, and some tenderness can be achieved by thinly slicing the meat. It’s no surprise that sauce is a much more important factor at old-school joints, adding flavor and moistness.
You can still order brisket from the point at these spots, though you have to specifically ask for “wet cut” or “loose cut,” the equivalent of craft barbecue’s “fatty” or “moist” terminology.
Worlds do sometimes collide when old-school adherents visit a craftbarbecue joint. Many craft-barbecue pitmasters cringe when a guest asks for “extra lean” brisket — basically code words for “make my brisket oldschool” by trimming off all the fat. The often-heard complaint by old-school aficionados is, “Why should I pay for all that fat?”
Undoubtedly, fans of craft barbecue will read the description of oldschool brisket and roll their eyes. Old-school adherents will continue to quietly mock craft-barbecue fans for overpaying for brisket encrusted in what they consider inedible fat.
But to each his own, especially when it comes to barbecue.