Drive-Thru BBQ
The name Mama Jean’s Bar-B-Q Shack is, in fact, a misnomer.  This joint is no shack.  Far from it, as this joint isn’t a joint at all. It’s a BBQ truck.  Specifically, it’s a truck where you order barbecue that is cooked next to the truck on a large charcoal and hickory chip fueled cooker.  Although Mama Jean’s is far from trendy–in the best possible way–it is part of a growing trend in the food truck rich Triangle area, where everything from juice to burgers to tacos to crepes is hawked out of mobile restaurants on wheels.  And Mama Jean’s serves some of the best barbecue I’ve had in the Triangle, whether the ‘cue is on wheels or not.

Truck, Storefront, Whatever
According to Antonio Hill, Mama Jean’s owner and pitmaster, Mama Jean’s will be opening a regular sit down restaurant soon on the same street where he sets up his truck.  But for now, while he puts together the final pieces needed to open the storefront, he’s pretty happy selling his food out of his “BBQ shack on wheels.”  Really, I could care less about where he sells his food. He can cook and he does it with charcoal and wood chips, which is close enough to traditional wood-cooking for me.  Heck, if it continues to taste good he can sell his ‘cue out of the back of a Ford Fiesta for all I care.

Mama Jean’s Grub
There is no obvious menu posted on the food truck.  Actually, I didn’t see a menu at all. But it’s pretty easy to tell what to order based on the tasty smells wafting off the cooker next to the truck.  In addition to rough-chopped pork shoulders served with a traditional Eastern-style thin vinegar sauce, Mama Jean’s offers barbecued ribs, whole chickens, chicken wings, and more.  Sides vary but included baked beans, mac ‘n’ cheese and green beans on the day I visited.  I had the barbecue sandwich, which was piled high with succulent pork, though next time I might pass on what tasted like store bought creamy coleslaw [Note: Mama Jean's now makes their own slaw!].  I also sampled a couple of ribs, which were tender and tasty with a subtle but distinct smoky taste. 

Face it, BBQ ain't pretty.

Mama Jean’s sets up shop around 11 a.m. on the days it is open (see details at the top of the page) and sells until around 3 p.m. unless they sell out sooner.  They have a “full kitchen” (sides available) on weekdays and Saturday. On Sunday, they sell meat only, figuring people streaming out of nearby churches will order meat to take back with them for Sunday dinner [Note: Their hours have been in flux so take the hours listed here as a loose guide.].   The business plan seems to be working so far, as Mama Jean’s was close to sold out when I visited on a recent Saturday at a little after 1:00 p.m.  Mama Jean’s also has a catering business that can provide anything on their regular menu as well as whole hog pig pickin’s.  Full details are available on their really well designed website (unusual to have a food truck or BBQ joint with a website at all, let alone a professional looking one).

Fight the Power of Gas 
It’s worth pointing out that I met Antonio Hill a few weeks ago at a barbecue cooking competition.  His was the only team cooking over coals, while everyone else used gas cookers.  I told Antonio then that I was excited to see him cooking the old fashioned–and tastier–way.  I told him the same thing when I visited his food truck and he said other competitors at the event said he should switch to gas so he could cook a “pretty pig” that could win a competition.  As I said to him, I think Antonio should either find some competitions that reward barbecue for its taste or skip these events completely.  There’s nothing particularly pretty about NC barbecue (or dead hogs, for that matter) so taste is king in my book.  Everything else is just lipstick on a… oh, never mind.

Despite being set up squarely in the middle of a long row of BBQ cooking teams, the guys from Mama Jean’s caught our attention because they were the only ones using charcoal and wood instead of propane.  Of course, they also had that BBQ/Bar-B-Q/Bar-B-Que truck of their’s doubling as a hard-to-miss billboard.

Alas, we arrived at the event too late to sample Mama Jean’s cooking but we vow to check it out soon and report back.  We did get a chance to chew the proverbial fat with the Mama Jean’s crew.  They were nice guys who clearly care about ‘cue and were proud to be cooking over wood/charcoal.  They told us that they are working on opening a permament brick and mortar location soon, but for now you should be able to find their bar-b-bus parked near the corner of Angier and Driver Streets in Durham a short drive east of downtown.  They also would be happy to help you with catering your next event.  See their website for details and stay tuned for our patented BBQ Jew’s View review coming soon.

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As I prepare to head back to NY in the morning after being here in the Durham area this week, I wanted to share my experiences. In a perfect world, I would have eaten at a dozen bbq places and be able to write a comparative tome.  [Editor's note: In a perfect world pig grease would heal the sick and give sight to the blind.  And maybe it does.]  But unfortunately I can’t eat like that anymore.

Last year we’d been here on our first trip to the area and had eaten at the Barbecue Joint in Chapel Hill and also Allen & Son. At that time we really liked the Barbecue Joint. I know you gave it a lackluster review, and I certainly would not pretend to disagree with your wisdom [Editor: They don't have sarcasm in New York, right?]. I do think their pork was quite good on our particular visit (in fact, we went there twice on that trip). When we hit Allen & Son that time, I think we were a little porked out. I remember liking it, but didn’t remember coming away from it wowed (although I did remember being wowed by the pecan pie).

This year, things worked out a little differently. First of all, the Barbecue Joint is now closed. Apparently this just happened recently. Upon arriving in the area, we made our first stop at Allen & Son. Guess what? This time, we were wowed. Really, really wowed. I’m not saying the food was any different — maybe it was just as good last year and we
just weren’t in the right moment to appreciate it. Maybe we were hungrier this time. I don’t know. Both me and my GF ordered the “extra large platter”. Man, everything was spot on. The cole slaw is amazing. It doesn’t look amazing, but it sure tastes amazing. I need to re-create that at home somehow. The hush puppies — which as far as I can tell are
only served in this part of the world (we have “hush puppies” in NY but they are cornmeal-fried hot dogs, totally different) — anyway, I love NC hush puppies and these were excellent. Well fried, crunchy on the outside, warm and soft and slightly sweet on the inside.

And then there’s the pork. Wow, that was some fine pork. Smoky, juicy, tangy. We both love the vinegar-style sauce so much more than gloppy, sugary tomato-based sauces you see everywhere else. [Editor: Amen, brother Aaron, you have seen the light!] I ended with the pecan pie and, as I remembered, it was excellent. Anyway, it was a perfect meal.

Yesterday we decided to take a gamble and try The Pit in Raleigh. I had some concerns going in. On the one hand, the ratings from Internet strangers are very high. And people do recommend the ribs, and as you know, I was interested in ribs despite their local sacrilege. On the other hand, people had described The Pit as more upscale. In my limited
experience, attempting to “fancify” barbecue rarely ends well. You see this a lot these days especially in New York City, where barbecue has become very trendy. (But it’s hard to get excited about a $20 plate of pulled pork that probably isn’t that great anyway.) Anyway, back to the pit: oh yeah, it is upscale alright. Hell, it’s upscale for any style
food, not just barbecue. Red flag.

I know that pitmaster Ed Mitchell is famous and he was ambling around the restaurant in his jean overalls. Friendly guy, but also weirdly out of place in his own restaurant, what with the white tablecloths, business casual decor, and hostesses in slinky black dresses. When your barbecue place has pretty young hostesses, I think that is another red flag. [Editor: It'd be more politically correct if I disagreed with you but I don't.]

Cut to the chase: we ordered a half rack of “Carolina ribs” and a double-combo with pulled pork and chopped “barbecue turkey”. Yeah I know, the turkey was a lark because my GF loves turkey and we wanted to see what they did with it. The table comes with a basket of biscuits and hush puppies. Long list of “creative” sides to choose from, such as
bacon-cheese grits and sausage-sage stuffing. The food at The Pit is good. My ribs were actually quite tasty, with an
interesting rub. The pork was a mixed bag–there were strands that were kinda dry piled on chopped bits that were much juicier. The turkey was actually quite good and more moist than the pork (it was dressed with the same kind of vinegar sauce). The sides were all good. But here’s the thing: I’m using the word “good” intentionally. None of it
was great. What’s more, there wasn’t that much of any of it. This is where the “upscale” part kicks in. You’ll have to order a lot of meat to leave The Pit feeling really full. Not that good barbecue is only about quantity, but value is important. Throw in a couple of drinks, and you’re walking out with a $50 bill for 2. Coming on the heels of Allen &
Son, The Pit just didn’t match up for us.

Today, our last day here, we went back to Allen & Son. May as well leave with a home run, right? Again, perfect. A little more challenging to clean our plates today, just because we’re getting full up. Of course, man cannot live on barbecue alone! To be honest, I tried to balance these meals with healthier choices.

On a side note, I notice that you say that the Pittsboro Allen & Son is unrelated to the Chapel Hill location. But I notice that both locations are printed right on the menu — what’s up with that? [Editor's note: You ain't from 'round here, I reckon?  It's just the way it is, but trust me that the two joints have been unrelated for years and years.] Anyway, when I get home I will begin work on reverse engineering that cole slaw. (I have no hope of cloning the pork so I’ll leave that to the experts.)

The aptly named Bagels & BBQ features traditional water-boiled bagels along with hickory-smoked ‘cue.   This is the first time in my life I’ve considered relocating to New York…

The barbecue version of the food pyramid.

Early Symptoms
Like most addictions, it all started out innocently enough. I grew up in Orange County not far up the road from Allen & Son. My folks took me there from time to time. Back then it was just a couple of times a year habit. I liked barbecue from the start but didn’t think much about it in between those occasional meals. It’s a couple decades later and I’ve now eaten enough barbecue that my cholesterol level can be measured from 100 yards away. How did I, an innocent kid who grew up eating just the occasional BBQ plate, turn into a bona fide barbecue junkie?

After continuing my occasional BBQ routine through high school I soon left North Carolina to attend college in Missouri. There are good ribs in St. Louis but nothing quite like NC barbecue, so I found myself fitting in a visit or two to Allen’s every time I returned home. Soon I was stopping at Allen’s on the way home before even arriving at my parents’ house. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? Still, I remained just an occasional visitor to the Temple of Divine Swine, not a member of the congregation. 

Diagnosis
After college I worked a job that sent me on several day trips to Lexington, where I interviewed people about their experiences with… well, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I started my interviews by asking people where I should go for lunch. I was amazed at how varied and passionate their responses were. It seemed like everyone had an opinion and they took pride in sending me off the beaten path to the “little place down the road a bit.”

I knew Lexington was barbecue Mecca (or maybe Medina for those of you partial to the ‘cue served in the Eastern part of the state ), but I was shocked to discover that Lexington had over 20 barbecue joints for 20,000 people. At one joint for every 1,000 people, there may be more barbecue options per person in Lexington than there are physicians or churches. But who needs a physician when a chopped tray a day keeps the doctor away? And who needs church when you can worship slow-cooked swine every day of the week including Sundays? Indeed, my trips to Lexington were my spiritual awakening, my baptism by hickory fire into the Church of the Holy ‘Cue. If rapture had come when I was mid-tray at Lexington #1 or Cook’s I am not sure I would have noticed unless the pork had ascended along with the patrons. 

After those first few trips to Lexington, I was hooked. I was showing up at The Barbecue Festival in Lexington but skipping the pork served at the tents in favor of side trips to the local joints. I ate at five barbecue restaurants in one day and still ordered takeout for the ride home. And every bite tasted darn good.

I had officially developed my addiction.

Living with My Disease
But why am I not worried about my barbecue addiction? It’s because ‘que is one of those rare things today that is home grown and authentic. It’s served at local fire department fundraisers, backyard pig pickings and political rallies, and at family-run restaurants across the state. It takes hard work and care to prepare good barbecue. It is a food that is made from hogs raised in our state and cooked—though increasingly too rarely—for hours over wood coals, making it the anti-fast food, the original “slow food” and the most local of local foods. It can not be mass-produced, rushed, faked, half-assed, or wholesaled. There are few barbecue chains (only Smithfield’s really counts in North Carolina), probably because local joints have their own set of faithful customers who like the often subtle local variations on sauce, texture, cooking method, choice of sides, etc. and swear their local place is the best. Who needs a standardized, homogenized plate of barbecue when you can get scratch-made swine that tastes just how you like it right around the corner?

I love barbecue because it is a huge a part of our state’s heritage and culture, and because it seems to cross all lines of age, race, socioeconomic status and geography in the state (with the possible exception of some of the far western mountain counties where the altitude has confused people into thinking they live in Tennessee).  I love barbecue because most people in North Carolina love it yet it hasn’t really broken past our state’s borders in a big way (though I did have a surprisingly decent plate of barbecue in St. Petersburg, Florida last year at a place run by some NC ex-pats). Oddly enough, most of us North Carolinians are pretty modest about our native food.  We don’t spend a lot of time touting it, and the result is that it has remained a fairly obscure dish compared with Memphis ribs or Texas brisket.  I think that has helped contain barbecue within our fair state’s borders. And there is something nice about only finding something in one part of the country. The Grand Canyon wouldn’t be half as cool if you could visit it in Arizona, Delaware, Ohio, and Oregon.

Finally, I love barbecue because the best restaurant owners and pit masters really are artisans, skilled at their crafts.  Our state’s traditional pottery as practiced in Seagrove is impressive, but I prefer the traditional art practiced in Lexington, Salisbury, Goldsboro, Greenville and places in between.  I enjoy the living art of barbecue, and I enjoy that it is a form of art you can watch, touch, smell… and eat.

 If all that makes me a barbeholic, so be it.

Jason’s looks like the type of place I dream of “discovering” when I travel down the backroads of NC, so rest assured I’ll visit soon.  Readers, please chime in if you’ve been there and can confirm it is the holy grail the reviews make it out to be.

The Honeymonk
Whichever name you call it by–Lexington Barbecue #1,Lexington #1, Monk’s place, Monk’s, or The Honeymonk–this joint is absolutely one of the best in the state.  I’ve been here a half dozen times or so over a period of several years and the barbecue and sides have been superb every time.  Wayne Monk, his family, and the other employees who work at Lexington #1 run an amazingly efficient restaurant.  They crank out ‘cue and all the fixings in high volume without sacrificing quality one bit.  Whether you show up when the line is out the door, such as during the annual Barbecue Festival, or on a slow day at an off hour, Monk & company will dish you out some of the best ‘cue known to man, woman, or child.

 In lieu of a full review of Lexington #1, I am going to defer to the Michael Stern of Roadfood fame on this one.   See Stern’s recent review of Lexington #1 from his Roadfood.com website.  Stern is one of the nation’s premier food writers and his website and books are well worth reading if you’ve yet to discover them.  All I’ll add to Stern’s recent review of Lexington #1 is that some reason the draft Cheerwine tastes extra good there… especially when served to you by Wayne Monk himself at one of the counter stools.  Add it to your bucket list today.  And then get off your duff and check it off the list tomorrow.

Yes. I know that both Porky LeSwine and H. Kent Craig have knocked Brookwood Farms grocery store barbecue, but when Dale and I found ourselves in the Delta terminal at RDU, waiting for a noon flight that served no lunch, we weighed the options and went for the stand that says “Brookwood Farms Carolina Pit BBQ,” and I’m here to tell you about it. (By the way, I gather that they’re also in the Charlotte airport.)

First, let me say that, to my mind, Brookwood is missing a great opportunity to educate outlanders, the way the Salt Lick outpost in the Austin airport introduces folks to the Texas product. I guess they’ve done the numbers, though, and decided that catering to travelers whose ideas of barbecue vary wildly requires them to take what I’ve come to think of as the “International House of Barbecue” approach: some of this, some of that, something for everyone, none of it great, but all of it, I guess, OK. For our part, we passed up the “Santa Maria tri-tip,” the barbecued chicken, and barbecued turkey, and went for the barbecue – that is, for the pork. Here the choice comes down to a $7.00 sandwich or a $10.00 plate. (Yes, those prices are steep, but this is airport food, after all.)

We decided to split a plate, which comes with hushpuppies and a choice of two side dishes. Since slaw and Brunswick stew were on offer, naturally those had to be the sides.

Let’s get the peripherals out of the way: They don’t offer ice tea (a serious omission), so we made do with diet Coke. A calorie saved is a calorie earned. Speaking of calories, the hushpuppies were a waste of them. They’d been sitting on the steam table far too long and were soggy and downright unpleasant. The slaw was very good, though, and the stew was, too. Both were more or less generic, but that suits me, since I rarely like the results when barbecue establishments get innovative. You’ll have to try the desserts for yourself, but they looked good: banana pudding, pecan pie, and sweet potato pie.

Now, the main event: the barbecue. It actually wasn’t bad at all. True, it wasn’t fresh, but I can’t think of any way that airport barbecue could be, and the same is true for what you’ll get at a lot of places with less excuse. The meat was clean, with no fat or gristle; and, most important, it tasted as if it had actually been cooked over coals (as I gather from Brookwood’s website it had been). But you’d do well to decline the offer of sauce, or – if you’re curious – get it on the side. The barbecue seems to have been sauced with vinegar and red pepper as it was chopped, and that’s enough. The gloopy, Kansas City (or grocery store) style sauce on offer tastes OK, but obscures the taste of the meat and, for sure, doesn’t go with “Carolina Pit BBQ.”

Bottom line: If you actually want a fair-to-middling taste of North Carolina barbecue at RDU, go to Gate C-9 and check this out. Next time I’ll take a sandwich, with slaw, hold the sauce, and maybe stew on the side, or one of those desserts.

The most elaborate barbecue sign in NC?

Fast Food Name, Slow-Cooked Taste
The generic “Mr. Barbecue” name sure didn’t make me confident about the food.  And the chain restaurant vibe–flat screen TVs on the walls, fancy sign out front, 2nd location not far away, decor of the restaurant–made me even more wary.  But the large woodpile outside and the smell of grease hitting hot hickory coals gave me all the motivation I needed to head toward the entrance. 

This sign stopped me in my tracks.

No sooner did I reach the front door than I saw the sign pictured at left.  It stopped me dead in my tracks.  Salads? Tortillas?  “What the gristle was this,” I asked myself, ”some sort of cruel joke?”  Luckily my salivary glands were in overdrive from the smell wafting from the pit.  There was no turning back.  And it’s a good thing because Mr. Barbecue cooks a good plate (whether he makes a good salad or tortilla, I don’t know).

The meat is moist and generously filled with outside brown.  It is smoky and flavorful, albeit vastly oversauced at the time it is served. The fact that the sauce doused over the ‘cue is too ketchup-heavy for my taste didn’t help.  Luckily there is a more vinegary dip available at the table, which has a much better flavor to it and cuts the ketchup well.

The barbecue is well balanced by good, exceptionally peppery BBQ slaw and solid but not spectacular hugh puppies.  For those who want a break from barbecue (if such people exist). Mr. Barbecue offers a large menu that includes fried and BBQ chicken, as well as excellent homemade banana pudding.  Or you could order the salad in the tortilla bowl.  But you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?

Why order a salad when you can tuck into something this good…

BBQ in RTP?
It’s hard to believe that there is decent barbecue in the middle of Research Triangle Park (RTP), a science research park sitting in the middle of the Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill area, aka “the Triangle.”  The Triangle in general has little in the way of good ‘cue–I call it The Bermudacue Triangle for the way barbecue traditions disappear inside it–and RTP is in the geographic heart of the Triangle.  Worse yet, RTP is filled with sprawling office parks and crawling with white collar transplants from California and other places where barbecue is merely a misunderstood word that means “a cookout.” 

You might think that ordering barbecue in the heart of RTP is as bad an idea as visiting a seafood market in Topeka, Kansas.  Yet the owners of the Backyard BBQ Pit were smart enough to see an opportunity in an underperforming BBQ joint on the edge of RTP.  With more than 50,000 employees in RTP, they must have reasoned that some of them would appreciate a nice plate of ‘cue.  And since buying an old, so-so BBQ joint in 2007, the owners of the Backyard BBQ Pit have provided some pretty good ‘cue to RTPers.  And they have done a bustling business, so much so that they opened a second location on the other side of Durham earlier this year. 

Backyard BBQ Pit #2 on Guess Road

Isn’t It Good, RTP Wood?
Visitors to the Backyard BBQ Pit #1 (the original location in RTP) will notice sweet oak and hickory smoke wafting out of the chimney in the pit behind the building.  The wood pile indicates that this smoke is the real deal, and that they cook quite a bit of meat each week.  When I visited the second location (#2) a couple of weeks ago, I was disappointed not to encounter a pit and woodpile.  Instead, they had a couple of portable cookers parked out front.  Strangely, the cookers were propane but there was a bottle of lighter fluid resting on top, indicating that perhaps they use charcoal.  This is an unsolved mystery for me and an email I sent the owners for clarification has yet to be returned.  I was told by the person who served me at #2 that they cook some of the pork on site and some is brought in from #1 in RTP. 

Lighter fluid on a propane cooker?

The Food
The Backyard BBQ Pit serves pretty good but not great, classic Eastern-style ‘cue.  The meat is tender and has some smoky flavor, although it is too finely chopped (by a machine, undoubtedly) and too heavily salted for my taste.  My other complaint about the pork is that, since both Backyard BBQ Pit #1 and #2 are cafeteria style, it is served off of a steam table.  Barbecue, even more so than most foods, just doesn’t taste as good when left to linger on a steam table.  (The steam table really hurts the hush puppies unless you happen to get them fresh out of the deep fryer.)  Still, the Backyard BBQ Pit serves above average barbecue that is complemented well by a solid if unspectacular Eastern-style sauce.  The other dishes I’ve sampled there are good too–okra, collards, yams, Brunswick stew, and more.  The full menu for #1 can be downloaded here and #2′s menu is here.  I have not tried the ribs, BBQ chicken, beef brisket, or other main dishes but have heard some folks rave about them. 

The Atmosphere
The RTP location provides a nice, bright, funky atmosphere that stands out because of the graffiti on the walls.  The owners encourage customers to sign their names signed on the white walls, and the walls are filled with hundreds upon hundreds of signatures and musings.   The RTP location also draws a truly diverse crowd due to its location–as evidence, Lexuses and Bimmers and pickup trucks can all be found there in equal number. 

I’ve only visited the Guess Road location once but, whereas RTP is bustling and bright, it was nearly empty in the middle of the lunch hour, as well as dark and a bit dingy (it’s an odd building with a windowless dining room!).  It was a serious contrast compared both to #1, which is packed with people at lunch, and compared to the large lunch crowd that descends on nearby Hog Heaven.   That said, the staff are friendly at both locations and the food is good.  Give Backyard BBQ Pit a try next time you are in town.

Good Golly, Miss Molly
From the vintage metal advertising signs on the walls to the traditional wood-cooked pork to the location just down the street from Vinegar Hill Road (too good to be true but it is!), Little Richard’s feels like it has been around as long as the “other” Little Richard.  But the joint, named after owner Richard Berrier, wasn’t around in the early years of rock ‘n’ roll.  In fact, the joint only opened in 1991, making it a young’un by barbecue standards.  Still, over the past 18 years, Little Richard’s has established a well-deserved reputation as a purveyor of authentic Lexington-style pork.

I call this picture "barbekudzu."

No Tutti Frutti, Just Tobaccy
It’s fitting that in Winston-Salem, one of North Carolina’s proudest tobacco towns and inspiration for two of R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Company’s flagship cigaratte lines, cooking pork over smoky wood remains in style.  And on the day I visited Little Richard’s, the pork wasn’t the only thing smoking.  At a table next to a wall covered with vintage tobacco advertisements sat three generations of men from one family, and all three generations were pulling steadily on cigarettes.  Leaving the public health issues of this kind of family bonding aside, it seemed fitting to see a family smoking RJR products while waiting for their barbecue meal.  After all, the connection between barbecue and tobacco dates back a long time.  But I digress.

Provided you can handle a side of cigarette smoke, Little Richard’s is well worth a visit.  (Or you can wait until next year, when like it or not smoking will be banned in NC restaurants, even in Winston-Salem.)  The pork, which is available chopped, sliced or coarse-chopped, has a rich smoke-laced flavor and is denture-tender, almost too tender for my taste.  The barbecue is rooted firmly in the Lexington-style tradition, as it is made of pork shoulders and served with great BBQ slaw and a lightly-ketchuped dip (the dip bottle is emblazoned with the phrase, “Eat Mo’ Pig”).  As is typical for Lexington-style joinys, trays are served with BBQ slaw or creamy coleslaw, as well as your choice of rolls or hush puppies.  Plates add french fries, but the trays offer a generous serving even by always-generous BBQ joint standards.  As usual, I chose the puppies to accompany my tray and found them good, though just a bit sweet for me. 

The tray with barbecue slaw and hush puppies

Though the menu, available online, features BBQ offerings that stick pretty closely to the Lexington-style paradigm, there are some nods to the Eastern style.  The pork was generously flecked with skin, which reminded me of some of the places I’ve visited down east.  Also, Brunswick Stew, potato salad and baked beans were offered on the menu, though I did not try them.  The rest of the menu includes standard grill fare like burgers, chicken, hot dogs, and BLTs.  Barbecue Chicken is served on Fridays and Saturdays only.

Next time you find yourself in Winstom-Salem, stop at Little Richard’s and breath in the smoke.  Just be sure to bring cash, as it’s the only payment accepted.

Zen and the Art of Barbecue
I’d wanted to talk to Brandon ever since reading an interview with him in Holy Smoke, in which he described the way-out-of-the-way location of Cook’s BBQ as follows: “Our location is a very nice spot.  Nobody drops in accidentally; if you’re coming here, this is your destination.”  The quote’s half-Zen, half-mad scientist logic struck a chord with me.  I knew I’d like anybody who thought his restaurant’s location was perfect because nobody could find the place without knowing it was there.  And maybe Brandon was right about the location, as Cook’s BBQ was doing brisk business when we were there.  In fact, it had undergone a major expansion since the last time I’d visited a couple years back.  But it still serves delicious traditional NC barbecue, as well as not-so-traditional-for-NC Texas-style beef brisket.

Beef brisket in Lexington?! It's okay, try to remain calm...

Cook’s Cook Can Cook
Brandon Cook is a fairly young man, but he works the pit like he’s been doing it for many decades.  Brandon grew up in the restaurant business–his dad, Doug, used to own Cook’s BBQ and now owns another joint in town–and learned to work a pit at an early age.  He has been cooking ever since.  Better yet, while scores of other pitmasters (including, not insignificantly, his old man) have moved away from traditional wood pit cooking methods to save time or money, Brandon has clung fiercely to tradition.  Every day Cook’s BBQ is open, Brandon slow-cooks pork shoulders over hickory (and occasionally oak) coals for 10+ hours to get the flavor and tenderness he is so proud of. 

Brandon is serious when it comes to barbecue.  But don’t get me wrong, he is not an over-serious guy.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  While talking with the Rib Rabbi and me, Brandon cracked more jokes than I can remember.  He even joked that he’d refined his craft over the years by barbecuing “deer, raccoons, squirrels, anything my friends bring me, you name it,” but not in Cook’s BBQ’s pit, of course!   He reasoned that if you can barbecue a squirrel without burning it, then a pork shoulder oughta be easy.  I can’t vouch for Brandon’s squirrel cooking talents, but when it comes to cooking Lexington-style pork barbecue the way that folks have been doing since the early 20th century, Brandon is spot on. 

We had the privilege of spending 10 minutes or so at the pit with Brandon, as he showed us how he “slings” in fresh coals under the meat as it cooks, always being careful to pound the coals down to a pebble-like size to avoid “burning the place down.”  Tending the pit is not rocket science, as Brandon would surely agree, but it’s not easy either.  He regularly works 12-hour days and has to tend to the hot, smoky pit a couple of times each hour.  But it’s a life he loves.  Heck, he even claims to still eat at least one barbecue sandwich a day (to keep the doctor health inspector away?).

Smoke-kissed pork shoulders ready to pull off the Cook's BBQ pit

The only real shortcut Brandon’s taken is switching from hand chopping the meat to an electric chopper–something he says is necessitated by the volume of ‘cue Cook’s BBQ serves nowadays.  Although some places that do more volume than Cook’s still hand-chop their meat, it’s hard to begrudge him this one.  Given how good a pitmaster Brandon is, I think it might be a good thing for him to preserve his wrists so he can use them for tending the fires for the next few decades.  I know I look forward to tasting his ‘cue for many years to come.  So, raise your glass of sweet tea and join me as I toast pitmaster Brandon Cook’s future and the future of traditional North Carolina barbecue. Here, here!

You're not lost if you've found this sign

“Right Turn on Rockcrusher Road”
I don’t own a GPS unit; I’m early-2000s-old-fashioned and rely on Mapquest.  Still, I can imagine questioning the sanity of the computerized lady were she to instruct me to turn off Highway 8 and onto Rockcrusher Road, as visitors to Cook’s BBQ must do. But the drive to Cook’s is well worth it, as Cook’s serves some of the best barbecue in a town that serves some of the best barbecue in the state. 

I first visited Cook’s about seven years ago, when it had a small but loyal following among Lexington area diners.  At that time the restaurant was a modest-looking, modest-sized wood building built by founder Doug Cook with timber he milled himself.  Maybe it was seeing the humble wooden building after driving down a road I thought surely led to nowhere, or maybe it was the smoky aroma, or maybe it was just the quality of the food.  Whatever it was, my first meal at Cook’s seven years ago was magnificent.  I had only found my way back once since then, and when I pulled into the driveway this time and saw a large expansion on the original building my heart sank a bit.  But the aroma of hickory-smoked pork still hung thick in the air. 

Don’t Fear the Brisket
Although my meal at Cook’s seemed a little less magnificent than my memories of my first visit, the ‘cue still rates high.  The pork is tender and cooked to perfection, with a distinct wood-smoked flavor from the 10 or so hours the shoulders cook slow-and-low over the hickory coals.  Pitmaster Brandon Cook, the son of Cook’s BBQ’s founder (who now owns Backcountry Barbecue across town), firmly believes that cooking over wood is the only way to make barbecue. 

Little has changed to this corner of the building over the years.

Cook’s BBQ doesn’t heed all sacred barbecue traditions.  Beef brisket earns a place on a almost distressingly diverse menu alongside chopped, coarse-chopped and sliced pork barbecue.  The brisket served at Cook’s is the product of father Doug’s time spent in Texas years ago.  Brandon learned well from his dad and makes a mean brisket, but the succulent pork is good enough that it won’t be upstaged by the interloping brisket anytime soon. 

A chopped plate with dip applied and ready to eat

‘Cue Ain’t All
The slaws–I sampled both the barbecue and white varieties–were both excellent and complimented the slightly on-the-salty-side meat well.  The white slaw was light on the mayo, as I believe it should be.  The barbecue slaw was very good, reflecting the dip that forms its dressing.  And oh that dip.  It is a brilliant, ketchup-tinged but proudly vinegar concoction with some heat to it.  Just be careful not to use too much of it, as the pork needs little embellishment as flavorful as it is straight off the pit. 

The marble-sized hush puppies are the smallest I’ve ever seen but somehow stay fluffy and are fried just right.  God bless Cook’s for finding a way to get even more “friedness” into every bite by making the hush puppies so small.  And they wash down nicely with the full pitcher of iced tea that arrives when someone at your table orders a glass (and someone will).

The Old and the New
It’s a credit to Brandon Cook that he has not wavered in his hickory-smoked faith even as Cook’s BBQ has added a huge new commercial kitchen to allow for serving additional customers and expanding the menu.  The style and scale of the kitchen makes one feel it could just as easily be located in an Applebee’s, save for the tempered glass window that gives a direct look into the original brick pit that Brandon tends.  Cook’s BBQ is not quite as quaint as it used to be, and they have made some sacrifices to tradition like machine chopping their pork to keep up with the volume they now serve.  But the meat is cooked how it always has been, and that’s what counts.

Joel’s email continues, ”My true religion is ultra orthodox right wing don’t even talk-to-me-about-using-gas hickory-smoked Eastern NC Q.  I am in a mixed marriage since my wife is from near Lexington and Salisbury NC.”  Since Mrs. Porky LeSwine is from Illinois, thankfully I do not have to deal with such contentious debates at my home.  After all, Illinois produces corn and corn is enjoyed in cornmeal form throughout both of North Carolina’s regional barbecue empires.  Of course, Mrs. LeSwine has never taken a shine to barbecue, so not all is well at my home.

Functional pig art by Joel Haas

Back to Joel.  In addition to being a left-wing Episcopalian and a right-wing Hickory Thumper, he is a professional sculptor.  Although he does not specialize in barbecue-themed art, he created a grill that qualifies him as a bona fide Pigcasso.  The grill’s features include an air intake just below the mouth, a double layer of sheet steel to catch ash, stainless steel interior grills that can be adjusted to various angles and heights, and a tail that folds apart to serve as a chimney while in service.  Not only is the pig-shaped grill a terrific piece of functional art, but it was made for a barbecue loving client who, according to Joel, “is an EPA advisor by day on the subject of particulate matter in business emissions but tells me the legislature of this great state, while often unable to express wisdom beyond naming the Plott Hound official state dog, did write in a specific exemption from particulate air standards for cooking Q.”  (I vow to do some follow-up research to investigate that story further, but in the meantime I just had to share it.)  Learn more about Joel Haas’ pig cooker sculpture here or see his studio’s homepage here.

Zoo and ‘Cue
What better way to spend a summer weekend with family and friends than a trip to the North Carolina Zoo?  Sure, it’s kind of in the middle of nowhere.  And the admission price is sort of steep.  And it’s hotter than heck.  And the animals stink when it’s so hot. But it’s still fun, galdarnit.  Plus, the zoo is just a few minutes away from Blue Mist Bar-B-Q, and what better way to finish a day of animal viewing than eating one?

Old timers enjoying Blue Mist

Get Your Kicks on Route 64
Blue Mist Bar-B-Q has been around since 1948 and occupies a fairly large building immediately off of what used to be the main east-west route between Charlotte and Raleigh, U.S. Highway 64.  Now that I-85/40 exists, 64 is less travelled, but it still brings plenty of people through Blue Mist’s doors.  And for good reason.  Blue Mist continues to serve high quality, pit cooked ‘cue that makes a side trip off the Interstate (or a pit stop on the way to the zoo) well worth it. 

Taste the hickory smoke at Blue Mist

Blue Mist offers a large menu with breakfast, lunch and dinner served daily.  Dishes range from steaks to BBQ chicken (but no fried chicken) to pimiento cheese sandwiches (if somehow you’ve not had this delicacy before, you must) to seafood to homemade desserts like persimmon pudding.  But, thankfully, this wide ranging menu does not come at the expense of the ‘cue.  Barbecue remains the focus and the folks at Blue Mist certainly do justice to the divine swine.

Blue Mist serves good, coarse-chopped ’cue with a noticeable smoke flavor from the pit cooking.  I ordered a tray of the ‘cue with slaw and hush puppies and it was a very generous serving–seemed to be the same amount of ‘cue as comes with the plate, just minus the baked beans and fries served with the plate.  The Lexington-style ‘cue comes laced with generous bits of outside brown, though the pork is a bit dry for my taste (I suspect they use more hams and fewer shoulders).  The sauce is too ketchupy for my taste but has a very nice spice kick to it.  The slaw is good: fine-chopped, sweet and light on the mayo with large flecks of carrot.  The hush puppies are of the  long variety (rather than orbs), and were a bit dry.  Finally, like at most barbecue joints, the staff are friendly, the atmosphere is warm, and the tea is sweet and delicious.  Do your family a favor and take them on the road for a zoo and ‘cue safari. 

[Note: Follow this link-Wilson BBQ&A-for an easier to read, .pdf version of the interview.]

Today’s post deals with two things near and dear to my heart (and mouth), barbecue and beer.  Several years ago Sean Wilson of Durham helped lead a well-orchestrated effort to overturn outdated laws in NC that prevented the sale of beer above 6% alcohol by volume (ABV).  Two and a half years after its early 2003 formation, the Pop the Cap group Sean ran succeeded in passing new legislation to allow the sale of beer up to 15% ABV.  This law overturned decades of conservative tradition in NC and opened up the state to a wealth of beers, including many classic American and international brews (double IPAs, various Belgian ales, and on and on).  For that, Sean and other Pop the Cappers, including the good folks at All About Beer magazine, will always have my thanks.  Having handled the NC legislature, Sean is now taking on another, even more entrenched NC tradition–sweet tea. 

Sean Wilson founded Fullsteam Brewery and set his sights on “plow-to-pint” brewing that features local flavors.  One of Fullsteam’s flagship beers is Hogwash, a brown porter made with hickory-smoked malts.  As its name implies, Hogwash is designed to wash down barbecue–its flavor is tailored to complement ‘cue.  It’s an interesting concept, so recently Sean and I sat down over a cold pint and a hot tray to talk beer and barbecue…(actually, in truth, we sat at our computers and talked by email but it was fun anyway).

BBQ Jew:  What inspired you to create Fullsteam Brewery?
Sean Wilson: I started Pop The Cap as a craft beer enthusiast with no plans to start up a brewery. However, after nearly three years of lobbying (PTC v1) and three additional years of promoting craft beer in North Carolina (PTC v2), I realized that I really wanted to make craft beer my career. I wasn’t exactly making it in the corporate world, and my heart was in craft beer… not in a cubicle.

BBQ Jew: How did you settle on the idea of brewing a beer–Hogwash–that complements barbecue?
SW: The short answer is this: it just makes sense. We’re crafting “Southern ag” beers, and no food is more traditionally Southern than barbecue. We’re all about pairing beer and food, so crafting a beer to complement the ultimate Southern food is a natural.

A slightly longer answer: Fullsteam’s goal is to reach out beyond the beer geeks: to engage the foodie. The wine snob. Anyone who is intentional about what they consume — but who might not (yet) include craft beer in their list of passions. Next to basketball, barbecue is probably the most contentious and divisive topic in North Carolina…and we can’t exactly make a Basketball Beer. We realized there’s no definitive beer to go with barbecue, so we set out to make one. An adult beverage that’s meant to go with our state’s trademark dish.

The even longer answer requires us to share a beer or three in front of a pit. But it involves the concept of beer as a complement (and not contrast) to food, and the suggestion that beer is a unifier of people and a facilitator of community.

BBQ Jew: Inspiring words, I think I just cried and salivated at the same time.  But how did you decide Hogwash should be a porter?  Porters ain’t exactly the easiest type of beer to sell, especially given the average beer drinker and barbecue eater probably grew up on Budweiser or other such lagers.  Are you crazy like a fox or just plain crazy?
SW: I am crazy like a fox. (I shall now show my age and go all 80s nostalgia on you).  With Hogwash, we didn’t set out to make a porter. Chris Davis (Fullsteam’s brewer) and I started with the concept of a subtle, smoky beer that complemented Eastern and Piedmont-style ‘cue. Stylistically, our final recipe–the end result–happened to be a smoky brown porter. As for the notion that dark beers don’t sell well, I’d respectfully disagree — look at the success of Duck-Rabbit. Or Shiner Bock. Or Guinness, for that matter. Anyways, if we made Hogwash a light lager or worse, a “sweet tea” beer, it’d be looked at as gimmicky and trite. The beer we’ve created is a facilitator of conversation–about beer, about barbecue, about the South.

BBQ Jew: I see that Hogwash includes hickory-smoked malts.  Are you crazy enough to consider smoking your Hogwash malts over an actual pig while its cooking?
SW: Wait, you’re calling ME crazy like a fox? I hadn’t thought of it, but we’ll do it. Maybe we’ll make a more extreme version of Hogwash called, I don’t know, Swine Flu. Or maybe Swine Flue.  Wow that’s a bad name. Perfect. Let’s do it.  Of course, we’d have to ensure that, in the smoking process, no animal fats came in contact with the grain. Rancidity would be an obvious concern.

BBQ Jew: I see you chose to debut Hogwash in Wilson with famous Eastern-style pitmaster Ed Mitchell present.  Any plans to make a trek to Lexington to introduce Hogwash to the other half of the state?
SW: Yes, when we can find a Lexington barbecue joint as supportive of North Carolina craft beer as Mitchell’s The Pit is (and several other Eastern-style joints). The Lexington ‘cue joints I’ve been to are traditional sweet tea places with no beer or wine in sight. I realize that’s part of the charm. But I’d like to find a place that is willing to, as we say, go “beyond sweet tea.” Got any recommendations?

BBQ Jew: I’m headed to Lexington soon so I’ll keep an eye out for a joint that’d fit the bill.  Honestly though, I love beer and I love barbecue but I’m a stubborn traditionalist and I’ve always though ‘cue goes best with sweet tea (or Cheerwine).  Convince me that I should put my tea down and pick up a Hogwash.
SW: I don’t believe you.  What I mean is, if you’re a stubborn traditionalist, you’re already predisposed to not liking our beers. Or new ideas in general. But most barbecue enthusiasts I know AREN’T traditionalists. They may love the *tradition* of barbecue, but that doesn’t mean barbecue is–or should be–a uniform dish. If we were all Stubborn Traditionalists, there wouldn’t be a rivalry between Lexington- and Eastern-style barbecue. There wouldn’t be a debate over whole hog or shoulder. Wood or gas. Vinegar or tomato. Creamy or tangy slaw. Whether asking for “outside brown” makes you an insider or a tool.

There is no traditional North Carolina barbecue. There is a North Carolina barbecue tradition.  That’s why I don’t get the monolithic fervor for sweet tea. There’s nothing particularly Carolinian about the shrub Camellia Sinensis, lemon, or cane sugar. I love me some sweet tea, but I’m adventuresome enough to consider trying something else out. Especially if it’s spelled with the letters B E (another E) and R.  I’ll put it this way: if I showed up to your pig pickin’ with a home-baked bourbon pecan pie instead of banana pudding, would you refuse a slice?  Beer deserves a place at the banquet, right along side sweet tea, Cheerwine, and North Carolina wine.

Lastly, since BBQ Jew touches on elements of faith and tradition, it’d be worthwhile to mention that this Pavlovian response of barbecue-and-tea likely originates from Sunday church gatherings, and the long and often sordid North Carolina tradition of mixing church and state politics. I’m not dismissing church barbecues–I’m an Episcopalian and recovering evangelical who thoroughly enjoys a good church barbecue. But let’s not forget that the sweet tea and Cheerwine phenomenon likely has Prohibitionist roots. Personally, I’d rather celebrate a modern North Carolina that welcomes all beverages to the table than Puritanical teetotalism!

BBQ Jew: Okay, now I’m thirsty for a pint.  When and where will the brewery open?
SW: Woot! We just finalized our lease last week! 726 Rigsbee, at the corner of Geer and Risgbee in Durham’s Central Park district. We’re a block or two away from the Durham farmer’s market and a block away from Manbites Dog Theatre. Fullsteam’s 8,000 square foot space is located in an eclectic warehouse district that has a great mix of arts, industry, and food businesses.  As for when we’ll open, breweries are notorious for missing their opening dates, so I’m hesitant to commit. We’re shooting for the end of this year!

Um, no...

According to its website, Mutton: The Movie “takes you on a magical journey to the northwestern corner of Kentucky (Owensboro to be exact) where the descendants of the Welsh who settled the banks of the Ohio River don’t count sheep, they barbecue them.”  Well put.   Mutton is an informative, entertaining documentary and clocks in under 20 minutes long, so you really have no excuse to not watch it.  Of course, we respectfully disagree with Owensboro, Kentucky’s claim to the title of ”Bar-B-Q Capital of the World.”  Heck, the people of Owensboro can’t even spell barbecue right!  Still, in the interest of fostering good will among the barbecue-loving people of the world, we present this in-depth analysis of the common ground between mutton and NC pork barbecue:

• Both mutton and NC barbecue are traditionally cooked over Hickory wood.
• Both are sources of local pride and the products of hard work, sweat and tears beers.
• Mutton is often cooked by Catholic churches as a fundraiser, while NC barbecue is a common part of fire department fundraisers.  Catholics and firefighters fear hellfire and fire, respectively, yet have no qualms aboutcooking meat slow and low over fiery coals.  Also, both groups are known to enjoy the occasional alcoholic beverage while cooking. (One of my favorite images in Mutton: The Movie is the scene at the International Barbecue Festival, which features Budweiser sponsorship signs with church names; e.g., a sign that reads “Budweiser: St. Pius X”)
• Mutton lovers eat Burgoo, which is sort of a Kentucky take on Brunswick stew, a key side dish in Eastern-style NC barbecue.  Also, the thin part-vinegar sauce used to flavor mutton is referred to as “dip,” the name given to the sauce used for Lexington-style NC barbecue.   
• Mutton and NC barbecue are commonly served sliced or chopped.

What is the moral of this story?  Well, dear readers, if we humble BBQ Jews can find common ground among mutton lovers and pork lovers, what other common ground can we find?  President Obama recently delivered a powerful speech on the need to bridge the gap between the Muslim world (largely pork-avoiding and mutton-appreciating) and largely Judeo-Christian America (land of pork-lovers and mutton-skeptics).  For some reason, the President failed to discuss barbecue in his speech, but surely such a discussion will be a key part of his plans for ongoing dialogue. 

Stephenson's barbecue plate.

Stephenson’s has a long, proud history and is featured as one of 24 barbecue joints on the NC Barbecue Society’s exclusive Barbecue Trail (which lists only those joints that cook with wood and meet various other criteria).  Yet I was underwhelmed during a recent visit.  First of all, despite being listed a wood burner I saw no evidence of a wood pile  and the barbecue did not taste wood-cooked to me.  I wonder if Stephenson’s has switched from wood cooking, or perhaps they use charcoal instead of split wood and keep their charcoal inside.  Even if they do cook with wood and I somehow missed it, I simply did not think Stephenson’s ‘cue was particularly good.

I found the barbecue a bit greasy, almost slimy even.  It was coarse-chopped (seemingly by hand) to a nice consistency, but lacked in flavor.  Stephenson’s almost straight vinegar sauce helped the flavor but did not save the ‘cue from mediocrity.  The sides, on the other hand, were quite good.  The coleslaw was lightly “mayo’d,” with quite a lot of added sugar (a bit more than I think slaw needs, actually) and generously flecked with pickle/relish.  The hush puppies were perfectly fried, fluffy golden brown spheres.  The barbecued potatoes were also good, with a classic Eastern-style tangyness to them.  In summary, I always judge a BBQ joint primarilyby the pork, and though the sides were good the Stephenson’s ‘cue was lacking, thus the “C” rating .  Slow-cooking a pig is a tricky business, so it’s possible I just caught Stephenson’s on a bad day, but a couple other reviewers (here and here) had the same impression I did on separate visits.   

On a positive note, the service and overall dining experience at Stephenson’s was nice.  It’s a classic family friendly barbecue restaurant, and appropriately enough features family-style dining for those who want to share bowls of ‘cue, chicken, and more.  Oh, and the Stephenson family also runs a plant nursery right next door, for whatever that is worth…

Just possibly the classiest looking sign in all of NC BBQ land.

Location, Location, Location
Even if Stamey’s food was bad (and Lord knows it ain’t), I’d have to give them plenty of credit.  The members of the Stamey family are legends of NC barbecue, and smart businessmen to boot.  Their grand, lodge-style building right across the street from the Greensboro Coliseum, the site of dozens of ACC Tournaments over the past several decades, is evidence of that.  What better place to sell barbecue, and to spread your reputation, than across the street from a huge arena that attracts hoardes of hungry hoops fans from across the state and beyond?  The fact that the Coliseum opened six years after Stamey’s did shows either that the Stamey family was a bit lucky or they were really good businessmen. 

C. Warner Stamey, the founder of Stamey’s and one of the godfathers of NC barbecue (heck, he even brought the hush puppy to the NC barbecue scene), began his career in Lexington under the tutelage of Lexington pioneers Sid Weaver and Jess Swicegood.  C. Warner Stamey ran a couple of BBQ joints in Lexington before opening Stamey’s at its present day location on High Point Road in Greensboro in 1953.  (See more of Stamey’s interesting history here.)  Almost 60 years later, Stamey’s continues to sell terrific barbecue–wood-cooked the old fashioned way–that would bring people from across the state no matter their location.

Quantity and Quality
When you see just how large a space Stamey’s occupies, and consider how much barbecue they sell, you might assume the quality of their barbecue suffers.  That’s simply not the case.  Stamey’s has figured out how to produce barbecue in a large volume without compromising quality, which is no easy task.  Sure, it’s a different scene from a place like Grady’s in Dudley, where you feel like you are a lucky soul to eat some of the hand-crafted ‘cue.  But the large, well-oiled barbecue machine that is Stamey’s is equally worthy of a visit.  The menu is limited–a good sign if there ever was one–with precious few options besides ‘cue and the requisite sides.  Stamey’s is not a family restaurant that serves barbecue, it’s a barbecue restaurant that serves families.

There are few better ways to spend $5.50

Stamey’s ‘cue is moist, tender, hickory-kissed and downright delicious.  The meat really needs no more flavor when it emerges from the kitchen, but Stamey’s spicy Lexington-style dip is a must-have anyway.  It has a rich flavor with just a hint of tomato, disproving again the Eastern NC stereotype that Lexington-style joints serve thick ketchupy dip with their pork.  In my experience, this stereotype is rarely true. 

Stamey’s barbecue plates (many a Lexington-style joint would call them trays, since they are french fry-less) come with classic Lexington-style barbecue slaw and rolls or hush puppies.  I always choose the puppies, which are mildly flavored (even by hush puppy standards) but quite good.  The slaw complements the ‘cue very well, though it is not as good when eaten alone.  Also, the slaw is, for lack of a better descriptor, squeaky.  I can’t quite explain it, but there is something about the slaw that seems to squeak on the teeth as you chew it.  Hmm.  Leaving that mystery aside, Stamey’s deserves its reputation as one of the best barbecue joints in the state.  Here’s to hoping it still exists in 2053–if so, and if my arteries cooperate, I’ll be sure to drop in for a plate to celebrate their 100th year.

A sneak peek inside the pearly gates.

I thought about leaving my review at this: go to Grady’s.  That would have been enough said, but the folks at Grady’s deserve a little more good (albeit virtual) ink.  As far as I am concerned, Grady’s is among an elite few of the best barbecue joints in the state.  Unfortunately, their off the beaten path location has kept them in relative obscurity, even though they’ve dished out terrific barbecue for more than 20 years and many well known joints can’t hold a pig’s wax candle to Grady’s pork.

Luckily, it's what's inside that counts.

To say Grady’s is unassuming at first glance is an understatement.  Let’s start with the location.  Grady’s is in the tiny town of Dudley, about 15 minutes south of downtown Goldsboro–a town featuring the well-known joints Wilber’s, Scott’s and McCall’s–and just a few hundred yards north of a road called Squirrel Ridge Drive.  The building itself (pictured above) could easily be missed were it not standing all by itself on a quiet stretch of windy road, and were it not for the prominent woodpile and barbecue pit out back.  The hand-written menu features chicken and barbecue, with only a few other main courses available for those confused enough to not be contended with ‘cue.  And then there’s the name itself: Grady is actually pronounced “Graddy” (rhymes with “daddy”), which is the last name of owners Steve and Gerri.  Oh, and Grady’s is closed on Sundays, Mondays and Tuesdays, and only open until 3 p.m. Wednesday thru Friday (they’re open till 6 p.m. on Saturdays).  But all of these traits only add to Grady’s charm.  The joint is the real deal and its focus is where it should be: on making outstanding barbecue.

One of the state’s best barbecue plates.

Grady’s Eastern-style, whole hog barbecue is moist, rich, oh-so-smokey, flecked with outside brown and bits of skin, and hand chopped to perfection.  Divine swine for sure.  Jim Early of the NC BBQ Society sums it up by writing, “This ’cue is so good you don’t want to swallow it. It is one of the best eastern style ’cues one will ever taste – pure ’cue heaven on earth.”  I couldn’t agree more.  And the sauce, which one could do without given the quality of the pork, is among the best I’ve ever tasted.  It’s a fiery hot vinegar and pepper concoction that has a surprising depth of flavor.

The sides I sampled were great too.  The slaw is a fairly sweet, moderately mayonaissed and coarsely chopped mixture that is flecked with sweet pickle and complements the ‘cue well.  The hush puppies were fluffy and fried just right.  The blackeyed peas I ordered to round out my barbecue plate were delicious (cabbage, rice, boiled potatoes and potato salad were the other vegetable options on the day I visited, so it was a tough choice).  My only regret about my lunchtime trip to Grady’s is that I was unable to return later that day for dinner.  Like I said at the beginning, go to Grady’s.

Viva le wood!

WOOD IS GOOD
- If there is a wood pile outside it’s worth going inside. The wood pile may be tucked away in the back, it may be right up front, but it must be somewhere if they cook with it. Once you find the pile, check for signs that it has been used recently and isn’t just there for decoration (this trickery has been reported, though if the BBQ Jew was king such deception would be a criminal offense).

NEW IS OLD NEWS – Be very suspicious of a barbecue joint if the building it is located in was built less than 20 or so years ago. Sure, there are some good joints that challenge this rule of thumb, but a shiny new building is at best a honkin’ big red flag.

PARKING LOT PARADISE - Glance around the parking lot. Ideally, there will be a diverse mix of beat up pickup trucks, vans with commercial tags, compact cars, lawyer mobiles (Mercedes, BMW, etc.) and more. If all those different people think the ‘cue is worth eating, you probably will too.CURB APPEAL – Speaking of parking lots, if the barbecue joint has curb service (I don’t mean a drive-thru, but genuine, old fashioned honk-your-horn-and-a-server-will-magically-appear curb service) then give it a shot. Curb service is pretty rare these days and most of the joints that still offer it have proud barbecue histories that are worthy of your patronage.

SEEK THE ROAD LESS TRAVELLED - For the most part, you should avoid barbecue joints that are within a mile of an Interstate (business routes excluded), as most of the good joints pre-date I-40/I-85/I-95/et al.’s appearance. Look favorably upon joints near roads like US Highways 70 or 64 or other roads that date back to the golden age of ‘cue.

DON’T FOLLOW THE SIGNS - The owners of top notch barbecue joints usually don’t bother to promote their businesses with billboards.  These pit masters seem to work under the assumption—right or wrong—that barbecue wise men will find their holy ‘cue by following the north star (or GPS). As always, there are some notable exceptions to this rule.

IT’S WHAT’S INSIDE THAT COUNTS  – If the joint looks like a bit of a dive on the outside but clean on the inside, this is almost definitely a good sign. If it looks like a hole both outside and in, this may be a bad sign, but may not be.  Unlike the barbecue joints in some southern states, NC’s joints are typically not dirty shacks. Most NC joints are typical family restaurants and are quite tidy inside. You might not want to eat a meal off the floor, but you should be comfortable bringing your whole family.

DINING UNDER THE INFLUENCE – If there is beer available at the barbecue joint, proceed very carefully. If there are imports or microbrews available, let alone wine or liquor, leave immediately. Alcohol and barbecue don’t mix unless you are at a pig pickin’. I know, this is sort of a strange rule of thumb to comprehend if you ain’t from ’round here, but just trust us on this one.

OBEY THE SABBATH - If the barbecue joint is open on Sundays, be wary. There are some notable exceptions, especially among some of the larger establishments that draw a large post-church following and/or cater to out of towners, but most reputable joints take the Lord’s Day off.

NO NIGHT OWLS – If the barbecue joint is open past 9:00 p.m., be on the alert. It takes a long time to make real barbecue, and most good joints close relatively early so the proprietors can get up the next day and start the process all over again.

LESS IS MORE – Be wary of barbecue joints that serve too large a menu, as many of these places give the ‘cue short shrift.  Be especially wary of any joint that offers multiple types of barbecue. It’s hard enough work just making real NC barbecue, and joints that also serve brisket, pork and beef ribs, etc. are unlikely to be worth the visit. Note that joints that focus on pork plus barbecue chicken or turkey are excluded from this warning.

Although there are exceptions to all of the above rules, abiding faithfully by them will steer you toward good barbecue and away from the other stuff more times than not.  Drop us a line at BBQJew@gmail.com or leave a comment if you have other tips we should consider when seeking good ‘cue.

No smoking, unless you're smoking a pig! (Photo by Dale Volberg Reed, used with permission)

First the swine flu and now an even more certain sign of the apocalypse: a smoke free dining billboard in Davidson County, NC.  Why is this billboard a sign of the apocalypse?  Well, in case you don’t know/ain’t from ’round here, the main town in Davidson County is Lexington.  Lexington is, of course, perhaps the most important barbecue town in North Carolina and even dubs itself the “barbecue capital of the world.”  This title is one Lexington can make a legitimate claim to given its rich history and its present day status: roughly 20 barbecue joints, most still cooking over wood in the traditional manner, serve the town of just 20,000 people.

Apparently Davidson County’s Health Department is working with area restaurants to help them go smoke-free.  Luckily, this initiative targets cigarettes, cigars and the like, and not the wood pits out back.  As a matter of fact, quite a few barbecue joints in Lexington have signed on to the County’s list of smoke-free restaurants.  Even The Barbecue Center and Lexington #1 are among the joints that have gone smoke-free, but rest assured they still burn plenty of hickory wood when they cook their pork.

In all seriousness, the fact that so many barbecue joints are going smoke-free is interesting, given how closely tobacco and barbecue have been linked throughout NC’s history.  See this interesting article in the Raleigh News & Observer on the subject.

401 E. Center St., Mebane, NC
919.563.3721
No Website
BBQ Jew’s Grade: A-
Porky Says: “Damn fine swine, well worth your time.”

It’s the Barbecue, Stupid.
I love the A&M Grill, but it’s definitely not for the faint of heart (then again, neither is reading online reviews of barbecue joints so you can probably handle it). The outside is unassuming at best and the interior is not what I’d describe as warm and cozy. But who cares? The barbecue is what matters, and the A&M delivers great ‘cue.

The Reeds hit the nail on the head when we asked them what they look for in a barbecue joint and they told us: “Barbecue… The meat’s what matters, at least as far as I’m concerned. I don’t give a damn about the décor or the ‘ambience.’”  They’re right: if the swine is fine, let’s dine! And if you can’t cook the swine, I ain’t got the time.

Behind the A&M Grill: not scenic but still a glorious sight.

Hard Work Pays Off
In my humble opinion, the A&M serves some damn fine swine. The pork shoulders are wood-cooked the old fashioned way and the A&M’s efforts pay off in the form of succulent, tender, hickory-kissed pork that has plenty of outside brown. The Lexington style dip is thicker than I tend to prefer, with more ketchup than needed, but it has a full, tangy flavor and is not too sweet (it’s certainly nothing like the weird vinegar-syrup they call dip a few miles down the road at the otherwise excellent Hursey’s).

Now, I’ve made it clear that I’d visit the A&M for the pork alone, but there are other draws too. First of all, they have very good, lightly sweet and fluffy hush puppies. (They are served in a basket with a store-bought dinner roll and huge serving of butter, neither of which I would recommend, and which lend themselves to food waste). The A&M slaw is unique just plain odd, but now that I have eaten it a few times I find it quite enjoyable. The slaw’s dressing has much more ketchup in it than most, and it is a cross between a creamy Eastern style slaw and a Lexington barbecue slaw. It is on the sweet side but has some definite vinegar kick. It’s not my favorite slaw but at least it’s interesting, and it complements the ‘cue nicely, which is the point. I’ve also eaten A&M’s green beans, fried okra and baked sweet potato and have not been disappointed yet. Plus, you can order a whole plate with ‘cue, puppies and