Inside story on creating Little Miss BBQ’s brisket
Learn how Little Miss BBQ’s famous brisket is made
It’s the brisket that transformed a city’s barbecue scene. Scott Holmes launched Little Miss BBQ in 2014, and it wasn’t long before his central Texasstyle barbecue was racking up two-hour lines, hundreds of greasy fingers and countless moans of meat-induced bliss on a daily basis. But while the menu is a murderer’s row from top to bottom, Holmes’ most notorious taste bud slayer is, without a doubt, his famed smoked brisket.❙ You’ve almost certainly heard of it. You’ve likely tasted it. But you probably only have a vague notion of the careful balancing act required to make it.
Every little detail counts, and Holmes is obsessed with detail — starting with the cows.
He raises the cows for his brisket?!
Oh, no, not personally. He’s much too busy smoking them. But the meatpackers who supply most restaurants get their beef from multiple sources, and even small inconsistencies from brisket to brisket can wreak havoc on something as finely tuned as barbecue. So Holmes contracts with a single Minnesota ranch, ensuring a steady supply of gorgeously consistent prime briskets.
And yes, he really does use prime meat.
It’s a little luxurious, but prime isn’t just for steaks. And it comes at a price, but that’s one of the things that sets Holmes’ brisket apart.
How is Little Miss BBQ’s brisket prepared?
It starts with a trim. The whole brisket — usually about 13-17 pounds in Holmes’ case — has a thick fat cap covering the surface that he trims down to somewhere between an eighth and a quarter of an inch.
More fat typically means more flavor, but it’s a balancing act. Where the meat is exposed, it’s more likely to dry out, so a good fat cap helps keep the brisket moist and juicy. But on a prime brisket, the large amount of intramuscular fat — running between the muscle fibers — does a lot of the heavy lifting. And if the fat cap is too thick, it will keep the brisket from forming a nice bark.
What’s bark and how do you get a nice one?
That’s the flavorful, blackened crust that coats the outside of the brisket when it comes out of the smoker, and it’s one of the best parts of smoked brisket. If you ever see the cutter in a barbecue restaurant trimming the bark off the brisket, just turn around and walk out.
Part of the secret to Holmes’ bark is the seasoning. It enhances the flavor of the brisket, but it also helps by changing the composition of the meat. Once the brisket is seasoned, Holmes lets the brisket rest until the salt has drawn some of the moisture out of the surface. Moisture impedes the development of a good bark, so the timing and application of the seasoning is another balancing act — enough to help create a nice bark, but not so much that it dries the brisket out. Holmes describes it as a “light snow.”
What’s in the brisket seasoning?
Mostly salt and cracked black pepper, flavored with spices including granulated onion, granulated garlic, cayenne, paprika and celery salt. Plus a few unique ingredients that Holmes prefers to keep close to his vest.
Sorry, Little Miss BBQ’s deepest, darkest secrets remain off the record.
How does he cook the brisket?
In giant smokers built from converted propane tanks. They’re offset smokers, meaning that the meat and the fire are contained in separate chambers. In this case, the smoke comes from a “firebox” that’s attached to one end of the tank. Holmes starts a fire in the firebox using hardwood — he’s less picky about the type of wood than you might think — which then warms the tank that holds the meat and fills it with smoke. Holmes will periodically remove pooled moisture from the surface of the brisket to help it form a nice bark, and it’s wrapped in butcher paper and returned to the smoker midway through the cook to protect the bark while it finishes smoking.
How long does it take to smoke?
Anywhere from eight to 12 hours. Ever hear the term “low and slow”? That’s what gives barbecue its tender texture — a long cook at a low temperature. Brisket is cut from the lower part of the cow’s chest, just above the front legs. It’s one of the animal’s primary weight-bearing muscles, and the fact that it gets a lot of work means that it has an incredibly intense, beefy flavor, but that also means it’s awfully tough. What happens inside that smoker — the transformation of tough, raw meat into silky, tender, delicious smoked brisket — is a crazy wild mix of physical and chemical reactions.
Why does it take so long to cook?
OK, let’s get super sciencey but just for a minute. Though there’s enough going on to fill a book, there are two primary processes at work. The first is the transformation of collagen into gelatin. Cuts like brisket have a lot of connective tissue, and that connective tissue is tough and chewy. But if it cooks long enough at a low temperature, the collagen in the connective tissue slowly converts into gelatin, which lends the smoked brisket its juicy, tender, luscious texture.
The smoke is the key to the other primary process. Nitrogen dioxide in the wood smoke mixes with moisture on the meat’s surface to create nitric acid. That nitric acid penetrates the meat, binding with myoglobin in the muscle fibers to create a smoky flavor and the treasured pink ring that looks so gorgeous when the brisket is sliced.
Sounds complicated.
That’s just scratching the surface, and it’s why great barbecue is so hard to do on a consistent basis. Variances in the shape of the meat, the composition of the muscle fibers, the quality and thickness of the fat cap, slight fluctuations in smoker temperature because of the weather, changes in the hardwood from load to load — it’s a lot of variables to juggle. And we haven’t even gotten to one of the hardest parts: knowing when to pull the brisket out of the smoker.
How does he know when it’s ready?
The window is so narrow. On an eight to 12 hour smoke, Holmes believes there’s a 5-10 minute window when the brisket is at its best. Pull it too early or too late and the texture won’t be right. Identifying that moment is a skill, and Holmes says it takes new employees about a year to master it. But when all of those variables fall in line, the results seem less like science and more like magic.
So what does it taste like?
Like a succulent explosion of beefy bliss.
When Holmes slices the brisket, it starts to weep — literally — as the juices, gelatin and melted fat come streaming out. You bring a bite to your lips and the scent of wood smoke fills your head — intense, but not overpowering. The bark has a texture that’s chaotic, yet tender, and when you push it against the roof of your mouth, the brisket offers a moment of token resistance before quickly relenting and melting like butter. A sweet, juicy slick coats your tongue, and you’re suddenly drunk on a mix of smoke, spice and the pure essence of beef.
Holmes can be weirdly obsessive about his brisket. But it takes just one bite to understand why.