Bar-B-Que

The parking lot is always full. You bring your own alcohol. The line winds around the brick building. The wait is sweet and there is a reward at the end of the line.
Bar-B-Que.
It’s distinctively Texas.
Sure there’s Bar-B-Que in other states, mostly throughout the South. It’s what makes the South- the South.
But Texas has the best.
Now I’m not making the claim because I’ve lived here for 16 years. I’ve had the pleasure of traveling throughout the South. I’ve tried Bar-b-que in Georgia, South Carolina, and Arkansas. Ok, so it’s not many, but still I always go for Texas.
Why?
Close your eyes and imagine.
You smell the burning smokey smell miles away. The sweet smell of burning wood. It tickles the nose making you salivate, but you don’t know where it’s coming from.
As you draw closer, you smell a sweet smell mixed with a bit of paprika and pepper. Your stomach growls. You see the Bar-B-Que sign and pull in.
There you’re meet with a long list of choices. Sausage, Brisket, Ribs, Turkey, Chicken. And that’s just the meat.
I never go for the ribs. Ever. Gnawing on an animal’s bone, freaks me out! Sausage- occasionally, Turkey- sure near Thanksgiving, Chicken- I can cook at home. No for me. There’s only one main star on this menu- Brisket.
The sweet tender piece of meat. The velvetly look that meets the eye. The chewy bites your mouth enjoys. Yes, there’s no other cut.
No sauce. Nothing. Just a bite with pepper and salt with the spices it was smoked in. Dry rub all the way.
Where to go?
Salt Lick, Iron Works, Rudy’s, Buster’s Bar-B-Que. Sure they got good Bar-B-Que.
But for me, I go home.
There is nothing better that my Dad’s brisket.