Want The Perfect Texas BBQ Meal? We found it and here it is:

• Brisket from Smitty’s in Lockhart, TX
• Beef ribs from Louie Mueller’s in Taylor, TX
• Sausage and potato salad and sauce from City Market in Luling, TX

How do we know? Because in May of 2008, we went on a BBQ pilgrimage from Houston to Austin through the Texas Hill County and then on to Dallas. Thirteen restaurants and countless pounds of meat later, we are seasoned veterans of the Texas BBQ scene.

This blog is a travelogue of our adventures along the way. You can also view a slideshow (complete with Steven's captions) of our adventures at http://tinyurl.com/49gmfm.

But first, allow us to introduce ourselves:

• Steve: Former chef/winemaker/cheesemaker and frustrated BBQ connoisseur. He grew up in Texas, where he learned to take brisket for granted. But he has spent the last 18 years living in VA/DC. He has been searching for real BBQ ever since. This May, he declared that search a failure and returned to Texas for the first time since he left the state to get a taste of authentic BBQ.

• Arnie: Guru/yogi master/entrepreneur who met Steve in college and then spent a couple of years working with Kim and Steve in Berlin. Even though he is a Houston resident (with endless access to BBQ), he long ago turned his back on the fatty, greasy, soul satisfying experience when he opened his Bikram Yoga studio and began pursuing a healthy state of bliss.

• Kim: Steve’s wife. She’s by and large a vegetarian and isn’t quite sure why she was drafted for this mission, although she’s pretty sure it’s because they needed an official scribe/photographer. Her one meat weakness, though, is sausage and Steve has promised her amazing sausage on this adventure.

• Jen: Arnie’s wife and partner in the yoga studio. She’s a born and bred Texas gal, who, and this is incomprehensible to Steven, has never had authentic Texas BBQ. In addition to being an adventurous spirit, it turns out she’s also the one on this trip who saves us all from ourselves when it’s clear that we’ve lost all self control.

9:00 am Friday: The Woodlands, TX--Buddha or BBQ?

Well, it's 4 pm and we haven't had any BBQ yet on day one of the 2008 Gods of Brisket BBQ Tour. In fact, we haven't really had any food at all.

We are staying with our friends Jen and Arnie in Houston, and they own the Bikram Yoga studio in The Woodlands, TX. So instead of beginning the BBQ jaunt with bacon and eggs, or some other appropriately fatty dead animal part, we had matte tea with Merlin's Magic Herbal Powder (that's a trade name, not a description) and Agave Nectar. Steve detects an alarming drop in testosterone production, and urges the group to make haste towards the first meat palace to rectify the situation.

But first, we have to take a 9:30 a.m. yoga class, and some private instruction to sufficiently cleanse our temples prior to embarking on our journey. Then, apparently, there is some mandatory hanging out. Finally, at 1:30, Arnie sent us on our way with a flax/soy/banana/mango/almond paste/rice milk smoothie.

So, now it's 4:15 pm and we are pulling up to our first BBQ destination: Louie Mueller Barbecue in Taylor, TX.

4:15 pm Friday: Louie Mueller BBQ - Are the BBQ Gods Against Me?

We should begin with a description of our plan for this journey. Steve will eat anything, but primarily wants brisket. Kim, as many of you know, leans toward the veggie side and wasn't really interested in the adventure until Steve started telling her about the amazing sausage - her one meat weakness.

We arrive at Louie Mueller and spend a few minutes deciding whether to be a purist and go with regular sausage or go with the more exotic chipotle sausage. Maybe a link of each?

Turns out, the two old cooters who arrived literally two minutes before us (yes those two minutes we spent lost on Rt. 79, not Rt. 79 business) scored the last two pieces of sausage in the place. Not a good omen!! Kim actually considered asking them for just a bite - it looked amazingly good.

Instead, she was left with a stack of wonder bread (which she comes to learn is the only truly acceptable bread to serve with real BBQ) and some tasty BBQ sauce while Steve dove into his first real Texas brisket in nearly 20 years.

Now, the ratings:

Ambience: 9 (10 if the jukebox had been playing). It's definitely an old school joint in a town with about 15 buildings total that took us 3 hours of driving through the Texas plains (oh, I mean what the Texans call Hill Country) to get to.

The menu—all seven items--is hand written on pieces of butcher block paper taped to the wall with masking tape.

This place is actually a James Beard Award winner from 2006, and has been featured on many TV shows. We can see why. It’s as close to stepping into a time machine and returning to a time none of us are old enough to remember as we are ever likely to get. The top of the walls and ceilings are covered with grease that has been carried through the air via the smoke of the BBQ and then has slowly dripped down the walls. This, we will come to learn, is one of the true marks of a BBQ joint versus a BBQ restaurant.

Clientele: 10+ - the two old cooters plus one lone 500 lb BBQ aficionado.

The Meal: 1/2 lb of brisket and 1/2 lb of beef ribs. Like all true BBQ joints, the meal is served straight onto butcher paper with no utensils. You eat with your fingers, just as God intended. As Thomas Aquinas said in his Apologia “If God had intended us to use this infernal device called a fork, he would not have given us fingers.”

This is a bit jarring to Kim, but she quickly conquers her aversion to actual contact with her food, understanding that this is a brave new world she’s stumbled into, and she must somehow try to face it head on if she is to survive this quest.

The brisket was tender and moist, but served thicker sliced than Steve's used to. The beef ribs were big and outstanding, with a really crisp, hot peppery crust, dripping with moisture and probably outshine the brisket...enough so that the rib we were going to box up to go is quickly disappearing. A side of BBQ sauce accompanied it. It was on the watery/oily side, but with a nice spicy kick.

Not wanting to be left out of the rating game, Kim reports that the wonder bread is just how she remembered it from childhood – perfect for balling up.

All in all, a soul-satisfying reintroduction and a reminder that BBQ in Texas bears no resemblance whatsoever with what the Mid-Atlantic calls BBQ. The pig is a nice little animal, good for a pet or runing into bacon, but BBQ is for cows.

Even in Texas, though, DC is not far away. The TV is playing CNN with talking head coverage of the Clinton/Obama race....a little jarring and possibly a reason to mark ambience down to 8 :)

Fortunately, or unfortunately, the next joint is just 20 minutes away...not a lot of time to digest the first pound of meat.

The rating: Louie Mueller’s is worth a special destination trip.

6 pm Friday: Meyer’s Sausage Company, Elgin, TX -- Ugh.

Kim’s guessing that this one is on the menu for her sake since this place is all about sausage. But that’s ok since she was robbed at the last place. And by now, she is literally beyond starving.

Too bad…this place is horrible. The atmosphere is like a fast food restaurant from a nightmare; it most reminds us of an Arby’s in hell where the Devil has come in and sucked out all the soul. There is no pit and no pit master – just mindless teens insouciantly slopping bad food out of steam trays.

We were new enough to the journey, however, that we mistakenly still had high hopes based on the reviews we found for the place. We took our plastic tray piled with sausage, peppers and a stack of white bread on a paper liner to a booth and got to work.

It should be pointed out that Steve’s innate sense of food radar had already told him the BBQ Gods had long ago forsaken this sad establishment, so he opted to just make a pity purchase of a baked potato with chopped brisket on top. The food ended up being absolutely awful.

Wrinkled, wizened sausages and mushy tasteless brisket that would be unable to inspire even a flicker of interest in even the most dewy-eyed BBQ novice, let alone hardened warriors such as ourselves. We have no idea how this made it onto anyone’s BBQ radar. Still, in her starving state, Kim consumed three links and many slices of white bread in the 15 minutes we were there.

No longer starving, but not entirely satisfied, we head off to Lake Travis to the lakefront condo we’ll be staying at all weekend.

The rating: Run Screaming in the Opposite Direction from Meyer's Elgin Smokehouse

2 pm Saturday: City Market, Luling TX--Bliss Achieved

Our two-person research team has expanded to four since we were able to talk longtime Houston friends Jen and Arnie into joining us. We had a lazy morning at our lakefront condo and didn’t get on the road until after 12 pm, which means we have a lot of BBQ to consume in a shorter period of time. Our first destination is two hours south.

We actually passed one of today’s later BBQ destinations on the way to City Market, but we’ve been warned that City Market sells out early (something we’ve already experienced firsthand a la Louie Meuller) so City Market goes to the top of the list for the day. We will not be disappointed again!

Luling is a classic small oil/railroad Texas town: one main street along the tracks, half the storefronts empty and windows full of posters of local high school girls lobbying to be elected “Thump Queen 2008.” (something to do with watermelons). As we pulled into town, we could literally smell the BBQ smoke before we got out of the car (and our windows weren’t down). We interpret this as a positive omen.

The dining room at City Market looks like a community hall or a bingo hall with long picnic tables crowded with locals (we later discover this is standard in the best places). While the dining room is pretty cool, the pit room is completely outta this world. Located in the rear of the restaurant, it’s a small enclosed room of big smokers, big men and big meat (and a big sign instructing us to close the door to keep the smoke in).

Customers go into the pit room to get their meat, then come out to the dining room for sides and drinks. We’re feeling good about ourselves when our order—a half pound of ribs, a half pound of brisket and 2 sausage links—elicits a “good man, good man” to Steve from from the pit master (although that was probably because he thought the order was for Steve alone). After 10 minutes in the pit room, we had to get out the smoke was so thick.

Again, per tradition, the meal was served as big piles of meat on butcher paper. No utensils. In fact, the sign outside the pit room explained “use your fingers, no forks.” On the side were the usual suspects: pickles, sliced raw onion and jalapeno peppers.

Finally, at 2:30 pm, we are about to begin our first meal of the day. And it turns out to be possibly the best on the trip. We thought Louie Mueller had good brisket (and it did), but City Market’s made it pale by comparison.

It was thinly sliced and incredibly moist, with a hard peppery crust, and not as overwhelmingly smoky as we'd feared given the smokiness in the pit room. Although the ribs were pork, not beef (and our group is comprised of beef purists), they got high ratings.

But the thing that makes City Market worth a special trip is the sausage. It was by far the most amazing sausage any of us had ever had. You haven’t had real sausage until you bite into the link and a burst of flavor fills your mouth and a burst of oil pours out of the casing.

The pile of oil on the butcher paper was a sign that this was not your usual sausage. A course mash of chunky ground meat, cubed fat that had melted away, and the perfect blend of peppery and savory spices marks it as a near perfect link.

City Market didn’t just excel at its meats though. The bottled sauce on the tables was rated best on the trip. A beautiful mustardy, (strangely, a la Carolina Que) piquant BBQ sauce, but not overly spicy.

The most surprising find, though, was the potato salad. Our plan of action for this research was well established. We would get half a pound of brisket, half a pound of ribs and some sausage at every place.

We agreed we would not dilute the meat fest with sides . But fortunately for us, Arnie lobbied hard for potato salad and we gave in. It was a good decision. They completed every bite of it and ended up in a serious discussion about the merits of various styles of potato salad. This one has the perfect mustard/vinegar combination, and finishes as best potato salad of the trip.

All in all it was a hugely satisfying experience and very worth the nearly two hour drive.

The rating: City Market is absolutely, positively worth a special trip.

3:30 pm Saturday: Smitty’s, Lockhart, TX--We’ve reached the “heart” of Texas BBQ Country

Our next stop was Lockhart, TX – a 30 minute backtrack from Luling and the epicenter of Texas BBQ country. Lockhart is also the site of the BBQ version of the Hatfields versus the McCoys, or in this case Kreuz Market versus Smitty’s.

Smitty's was originally named Kreuz and it dominated the Lockhart BBQ scene for decades. But when the founders died, their children couldn’t agree on the future of the business. So one sibling took the original name and built a big, brand new BBQ business out on the highway. The other kept the original location and renamed it Smitty’s. We started downtown at Smitty’s.

Even though it was less than an hour after our first BBQ meal, we knew the overly stuffed feeling that was in our future was going to be worth it as soon as we walked in.

We are now comfortable with the Texas BBQ experience—bingo hall environment, no plates, no forks, raw onions on the side and piles and piles of sliced white bread. BBQ in Texas is a no muss, no fuss experience, and each one of these small town places feels like we’ve stepped back into the Texas of 100 years ago.

We came in the entrance of Smitty’s and walked down a long, black hall hung with hundred year old photos and grease dripping down the walls. The hall ended at a room full of huge age-blackened brick smokers. At the end of each smoker was a roaring open fire on the floor directing smoke into the pits. It looks like Dante’s Seventh Circle of Hell come into blazing life. But in a way that makes you really, really hungry..

You get your food, and head out into the community room where you pick up your sides at a different register. It’s like a cousin in feel to Louie Mueller – same sense of stepping back in time to a place that may actually never have existed except in our collective imaginations – but much brighter and more crowded than Louie’s.

Once again, we detour from the brisket/rib/sausage plan and the boys substitute prime rib for pork ribs, since beef ribs aren’t available, and the pitmaster is singing the praises of his prime rib. Caveat Emptor. It ends up being a critical mistake that unfairly colors our impression of what is either the first or second best BBQ place in the state. Fortunately, we correct it later by going back and getting ribs, at which point, Smitty’s more than redeems itself.

The boys agree that the brisket at Smitty’s is slightly better than City Market. Steve declares that it has the perfect ratio of fat to meat, combined with the perfect crust due to expert and judicious sauce mopping. If you don’t understand this term, proceed immediately to Applebee’s and order the baby back ribs – you deserve ‘em.

But then things start to go downhill. The sausage is suitably juicy and greasy and has good flavor, but the group agrees that it suffers slightly because it’s stuffing is ground too finely so it has a grittier mouth feel. The prime rib is ok, but not amazing. The potato salad is good but too eggy to compete with City Market. The BBQ sauce is hugely disappointing. It would be good on French fries (since it’s basically spicy ketchup) but not for BBQ.

At this point, we decide we may have given Smitty’s short shrift by not getting ribs, so back to the pit room we go for a half pound of ribs. With grease dribbling down his chin, Steve declares them outstanding--smoky, dripping juicy, lightly sweet, perfect solid consistency coupled with the ability to pull away from the bone cleanly. Even though they are pork, not beef, Smitty’s has achieved rib perfection.

The ribs inspire a very serious discussion about how to rank the different places. How much should sauces and sides factor in?

Overall assessment: The ribs change the ranking. Smitty’s is now declared the journey’s winner thus far based on the brisket and ribs. But you have to know to bring your own sauce.

Kim has the dissenting voice, though. If the sausage isn’t the best, the BBQ joint can’t be the best. She’s holding out for City Market as the top spot. But, we all agree, as someone who would just as soon be a vegetarian (it was hard for me just to type that last bit), Kim is lucky just to be allowed to come along on this pilgrimage, and we throw her opinion out.

The rating: Smitty’s is as absolutely, positively, worth a special trip.

SIDEBAR: No Talking at the BBQ Church

As we sit discussing the merits of sauce versus meat, we witness a scene that can only be described as "Worshiping at the altar of BBQ. " Three guys come in looking like they are straight off the oil rigs. Each one has easily three pounds of meat and a half a loaf of Wonder in front of them. And there are two six packs of Shiner Bock in the middle of the table.

For half an hour, they simply eat. And eat. And eat some more. Not a word is exchanged. When the meat is finally gone, one takes a deep sigh, burps, takes a swig off his beer and then, and only then, starts chatting with his companions. Steve thinks they are the coolest guys he’s ever seen.

4:30 pm Saturday: Change in Plans

Change in plans. We had planned to leave Lockhart and set off for The Salt Lick BBQ in Dripping Springs, TX. But Smitty’s was SO amazing that we decided we had to stay and try all three of the famous Lockhart BBQ joints. Not a small feat since we now don’t even have a 30-45 minute drive between restaurants.

We took a breather and toured the downtown, almost getting locked inside the county courthouse (another story, another day) before heading to Black’s Barbecue.

5 pm Saturday: Black’s Barbecue, Lockhart, TX--So they really do have lame BBQ in Texas!

Black’s was disappointing from the first impression. No pit room and the entrance was a cafeteria line of cold salads (that look like they’ve been there a really, really long time). Then they made the ultimate mistake…they gave us forks! This was also the first place that looked like a ‘restaurant’, and not a ‘community hall’. A clammy atmosphere of dread began to envelope us.

So we were already doubtful that they would be worthy of what little room we had left in our stomachs, even before we took our first bite. But a mission is a mission, so there we found ourselves staring down another big pile of meat.

The brisket was pedestrian. No crust (meaning no mopping), and cooked at too high a temp for too short a time, giving it a compacted, rubbery texture not unlike mozzarella cheese. Pleasing in your dairy product, not so much in your ‘Que. After one bite, Steven declared himself done and turned his attention to his Shiner Black beer, which he’d never seen.

The sausage was dry, mushy and overprocessed. Where is the gloriously intoxicating mouthful of exploding oil? Where are the cubes of melting suet that declaims loudly, “I am a hand-made artisan product!”? The fat had been overmixed into the meat via robo-coupe, resulting in a compact, grainy consistency reminiscent of seasoned sawdust. The ribs had the consistency of Smitty’s and City Market, but none of the flavor.

We poked at the largely untouched pile of meat, finished our beers and discussed how good we are getting at this. Somehow, this digressed into a discussion of reincarnation and whether there are an infinite number of souls and parallel universes…ah, tryptophans (or all the beers along the trail)…either way, good stuff.

All in all a sad, depressing experience, but one we were thankful for, as it served to gloriously punctuate how wonderful the previous places had been.

The rating: “Don’t sully your stomach with this cheap impostor’s trifling attempt to play with the Big Boys of Lockhart”.

5:30 pm Saturday: Kreuz Market, Lockhart, TX: The McCoys lose to the Hatfields

We’ve been to the Hatlfield’s (Smitty's), now the McCoy’s. Smitty’s was small and local. Kreuz Market is definitely big and new. But it does its best to recreate the community room atmosphere of the old-time BBQ joints. Unfortunately, its best is nowhere near good enough. Hands down, Smitty’s wins.

The Kreuz beef ribs were actually pretty good, second only to Louie Mueller. Here they used the short rib, which is the first time Steve has encountered this heretical, yet intriguing, variation on this trip. But the brisket had an odd rubbery consistency and it was too salty.

This, coupled with an odd, molasses-redolent sauce, it gave the meat a strange and unwelcome Asian orientation. The rest have been fatty, juicy pieces of meat that melt in your mouth. Not here. At Kreuz it was as if they’d cooked the deckel only, not the entire brisket, and then pressed it under a weight. Very industrial deli, and definitely not what we were looking for.

The sausage was ok, but had only half a mouthful of oil and not nearly as much flavor as City Market. It would’ve been nice anywhere else, but when you opt to play in the big leagues, you need to come with your A-game. This was definitely a farm-team kind of product.

They also lost major points because they had no sauce (a point on which they clearly pride themselves), but ironically, theirs is the first brisket that needed sauce. Steven declares that he resents their “no sauce” policy because he feels they are imposing their BBQ will on us, the BBQ public. An unforgivably arrogant act.

He might be taking this too seriously, or maybe he’s just still operating on the level of the reincarnation conversation from the last place. He does that.

For her part, Kim declares that the Wonder bread, which she’s easily eaten two loaves of today, has been remarkably consistent throughout the journey.

By the end of the meal, it was a non-verbal, primal mastication fest. Just lots of grunting, groaning and hand gestures, yet beautiful in its own apocalyptic way.

Final words for the day came from Jen: “Arnie, are you seriously still eating?” as he dug into his second rib with a glazed ‘damn the arteries, full speed ahead!’ look in his eyes. And with that we head back to our lakefront condo for a glass of wine (no more food) and hopefully a sunset.

The rating: Kreuz Market is a fine place to stop if you happen to be passing by, or live next door, but not worth a detour.

12:15 pm Sunday: Cooper’s Old Time Pit BBQ, Llano, TX -- A # 1 Title Proves Too Heavy a Burden

Day three: the pilgrimage continues. No one is really in the mood for more BBQ, except Steve, of course, but we signed onto this mission and we commit to seeing it through.

Today’s first stop is supposed to be the best in the state: Cooper’s Old Time Pit BBQ in Llano, TX, approximately 1.5 hours from the lake condo.

1:00 pm: We pull up and it looks promising. It’s an indoor/outdoor joint. There are a series of enormous outdoor smokers under a metal roof, a line of people snaking around the building waiting to place their meat order at the pit and then an indoor dining room that resembles the many community/bingo rooms we’ve encountered thus far.

Ordering was a little stressful because there were a lot more meat options than usual, and it was so loud we couldn’t hear the pit master. Everyone else seemed to already understand the system, but Steve, being a little deaf, suddenly had visions of a “Soup-Nazi” –like experience, with the pitmaster shouting “No BBQ for you!”, as he felt the crowd getting restless behind him and the pit master’s mounting impatience. But with a little help from his fellow travelers--in the form of shouts of “hurry up stupid,” and “hey what’s wrong with you?”--he made it through.

We end up with our regular order – two links of sausage (regular and jalapeno), beef ribs and brisket. But then things take a detour when we get inside. We end up with potato salad, cole slaw and two orders of cobbler. Clearly we have crossed completely to the dark side and have forsaken the “moderation” approach to each stop.

We are also concerned to see that not only is there silverware, but it’s real, not plastic. We’ve gotten used to making do with our plastic knives and no forks, or better yet, nothing at all. But balancing that out is the fact that the tables have large jars of jalapenos and unlimited loaves of white bread already on them.

Once the eating begins, the group quickly decides that this is good, but not the best in the state. The brisket is too wet, and while tasty, is closer to a pot roast than brisket. It exhibits no sign of mopping whatsoever. The potato salad is ok, but nothing amazing. The cole slaw is over-processed and unimpressive. The ribs (beef), are quite good, and are actually the short rib variation once again.

Then the group arrives at its first split decision: the sausage. Kim and Arnie strongly argue that Cooper’s sausage cannot compete with City Market and Smitty’s. The taste is ok and is properly greasy (but not with the rapturous spillout of oil) but the texture is more like Kielbasa. Jen and Steve argue that this kielbasa-style sausage is a completely different product, and the new animal has to be evaluated as such.

In this light, they rate this is as the second best sausage so far having good flavor, good fat to meat ratio, and lacking the off-putting granular mouthfeel of Kreuz and Smitty’s sausages. Arnie and Kim vehemently disagree. Arnie and Kim leave feeling very superior and muttering something about pressed meat that you can buy at the store, while Steve and Jen implore them to broaden their encased-meat horizons.

The rating: Cooper’s Pit BBQ is another fine place to stop if you happen to be in the area, but not worth a large detour.

1:45 pm Sunday: Pillar Bluff Vineyards and Texas Legato Winery, Lampassas, TX -- The Gil & Bill Show

The next BBQ stop is 30 minutes away, but we so overconsumed at Cooper’s (note to self, don’t skip breakfast and arrive starving at the first destination when on an extended BBQ pilgrimage).

To fill some time, we pull out the laptop and search for nearby wineries. It’s not as random as it seems. Apparently Texas’s largest winery is called Llano Estacado so we assume its here in Llano, TX. We discover that it’s actually in Lubbock, which is eight hours away.

But by now our colons have decided that a winery interlude between BBQ joints is an imperative, so we Google for the closest winery. The answer is some place called Pillar Bluff in Lampassas, TX, about an hour away.

So, next stop: Pillar Bluff Vineyard. We know absolutely nothing about the place, what they make, whether it’s any good, whether they are even open.

But in the end it doesn’t really matter. We are in the middle of rural central Texas and we need to find something to do for an hour or so before we attempt to consume more big meat. We arrive at the tiny winery, and meet Bill, the owner. He spends an hour pouring us his wines (which aren’t hideous) and touring his tiny winery. We trade stories of running a small winery with him.

Next thing we know, we are driving 100 feet down the road to visit his twin brother’s winery (Texas Legato), where we encounter a lovely woman who runs the tasting counter and is possibly the most talkative person in Texas. Eight wines and an hour later, we know everything there is to know about her, her husband, her kids, her brother in law and every step that went into every single wine. Enough of the diversions, though. It’s time to get back to the BBQ mission.

4:40 pm Sunday: Burnet County BBQ, Burnet, TX -- Worst Marketing in Texas

Well lubricated on mediocre Texas wine, we find ourselves racing 80 mph down Texas Rt 281 to Burnet County BBQ before it closes at 5 pm. Turns out it wasn’t worth the speeding ticket risk.

Our research said that Burnett County BBQ was tied for #5 in the state. The first warning sign was literally a sign, and it said “Under New Ownership.” Uh oh. The signs (literally) kept going downhill. Once we got inside, we were greeted with a sign reading “We may not sell the best BBQ in Texas, but we still serve good food with a good attitude and a happy heart.” Holy crap! Talk about alarm bells going off!

Well, they were right about the happy attitude. They were really friendly. But the food was horrible. The sausage was promoted as Elgin sausage, and we all KNOW how we feel about that!. The brisket was the worst looking meat we’ve encountered on the trip—clearly the pressed meat version of Eckrich brand sausage. Dried out and almost artificial looking. Although we agree it had better flavor than Black’s. Arnie declared the potato salad “the worst he’s ever had” (although he ate several more bites after making the declaration – we blamed his lack of self control and the 10 wine tastings).

Ten minutes after we arrived, we scooped up most the food, expressed our guilt at throwing it away, but agreeing that we simply couldn’t justify allocating any more stomach room to it, and dumped it in the trash. To appropriate another tried and truism, life is just too short to eat bad BBQ.

Back on the road. Next stop: County Line BBQ outside of Austin 60 miles away.

The rating: Avoid Burnet County BBQ at all costs, unless you are a connoisseur of misguided marketing signage.

6:30 pm Sunday: County Line BBQ, Austin, TX--We’ll take the check, please.

An hour after Burnett County BBQ we pull into County Line BBQ, just outside of Austin. As soon as we walk into the place we all look at each other and agree we just can’t do it. This is a restaurant, not a BBQ joint. Texas BBQ doesn’t involve waiter service, printed menus and plates/forks. Nor does it involve a taped shtick of a Jeff Foxworthy knockoff doing his “you know you’re a Texan if…..” routine.

We are professionals, and refuse to have our integrity sullied in this place. After a drink on the patio, we were back in the car and headed for Whole Foods to get the ingredients for a big, big salad for dinner. We’re craving crisp, light, lettuce, and nothing that was ever alive.

The rating: County Line BBQ is an acceptable restaurant to take the oldsters to when they’re let out from the home on visiting day, but not a place to go for real BBQ.

10:15 am Monday: Schoepf’s Old Time Pit BBQ, Belton, TX -- Ahhh. Back on track.

A new day of meat fest starts early so Kim can get to her Board meeting in Dallas in time. We are on the road by 8:30 am and sadly, we’re back down to a duo, as we’ve lost our BBQ companions who have had to go back to work enlightening the world to the wonders of Bikram Yoga. Unfortunately, they can no longer bend over due to their distended bellies, which does present a problem in Yoga. But with proper nutrition, we feel sure they’ll soon be in top form again.

As we pull up into the parking lot at Schoepf’s, Kim is wondering if she can actually eat more meat (turns out, yes, she can, but only a little bit).

We agree as we pull in that we are now jaded BBQ connoisseurs. After bad experiences yesterday, we assume we’re long gone from real BBQ country, so we go into this round with limited expectations. Our optimism returns when we see the real pit operation in the back with two guys moving wood, stoking fires and flipping meat.

The meal turns out to be satisfying and definitely worth stomach room (our litmus test at this point), but as we expected it doesn’t rise to the level of the true BBQ Gods (Smitty’s, City Market and Mueller's).

The brisket is moist and tasty and of the consistency that you can pull apart with your fingers. But it doesn’t have the char or smoky flavor of some of the others, nor has it been mopped. We rank it fifth best, but then, as if the brisket could hear us, we explain to it that even being fifth best on the Gods of Brisket tour is pretty damn good. Both here and at Cooper’s, they store the brisket in tinfoil, which causes it to become soggy.

Things look back up with the sauce. It is easily the second best of the entire trip – house made, tangy and vinegary. Steve says that were he in Virginia, the ribs would be the best he’s ever had. They sport a nice peppery crust and good flavor and texture, but aren’t in the stellar league of City Market, Louie Mueller’s and Smitty’s. Or even Kreuz Market, for that matter.

The sausage was in between the kielbasa-style version of Cooper’s and the loosely ground meat filling at City Market/Smitty’s. They would please both camps. If we’d never had City Market’s sausage, this would be really good sausage. But we have seen the light, so this is merely tasty.

The potato salad is an interesting hybrid of fresh potato salad with last night’s leftover baked potatoes chopped in, plus large chunks of pickle. It’s an interesting variation, and one that gets high marks for leftover usage and the resultant boost to foodcost from the chef in Steve, but ultimately is more interesting than good.

And now calamity descends on our little band. After a few bites of sausage, Kim finally admits defeat. She can’t do any more. She can’t go on. She’s done. She orders a green salad. Sadly, Steve now realizes what he’s secretly known inside all along; that despite a façade of bravado, inside Kim is really weak and lacks commitment. But in a final nod to the pilgrimage, she uses the BBQ sauce as the dressing.

At the beginning of the trip, they would have gotten a mark against them for even thinking of having a green salad. But today it goes in the plus category. (That last sentence is a direct quote from Kim, and I am weeping as I type this.) Farewell brave comrade, farewell.

The rating: Schoepf’s Old Time Pit BBQ is as a fine place to stop if you happen to be passing by, but not worth a detour.

6:30 pm Monday: Angelo’s BBQ, Ft. Worth, TX -- Can Real BBQ be found in the cold hard city?

The band of intrepid BBQ adventurers has now dwindled to one—just Steve. For some unfathomable reason, Kim has gotten it into her head that her office won’t keep giving her money if she doesn’t come to work, so off she goes to her conference. Steve vows to soldier on, though, and arrives at Angelo’s for yet another BBQ dinner.

It’s an old, slightly tumble-down structure that has clearly been here for years. Sitting in a lonely industrial area that may have some life during business hours, but as evening draws on, it certainly feels lonely and a bit ominous. Inside, though, the place comes to life. It’s a new kind of experience for this trip; an authentic ‘roadhouse’ filled with regulars. In fact, it seems to be as much a beer joint as a BBQ joint.

The owner is walking around saying hello to regulars, touching tables and hanging at the bar. Thankfully, there’s a real pit BBQ with smokers billowing smoke and cordwood stacked out back. Inexplicably, the TVs are tuned to an ice hockey game, the second time Steve has seen this in a BBQ joint on this trip. Disconcerting, but no more jarring than the CNN that was playing on the TV instead of the beautiful old Wurlitzer jukebox in Louie Mueller’s, he supposes.

Once ordered, the food arrives not on the hoped for butcher paper, but at least it’s not on plates. Everything comes in those little paper hot dog boats. Not quite as authentic, but an acceptable middle ground.

Steve begins to form a thesis that possibly the most interesting element on any Texas BBQ menu is the sausage. It’s certainly where the most individuality plays out. Here, there is yet another interesting variation – Polish style sausage. Its filling is a fully processed paste, mousse-like, very light & almost airy. The regular link has good depth of flavor, and is a pleasingly bit piquant. The spicy variation actually has some kick to it. All in all, a real pleasure. With its baloney-looking filling, Steve had anticipated a bland product, but was well rewarded in the opposite direction.

The brisket has very good flavor, with a real mopped crust, but was served chopped – definitely not Steve's preference. It was moist and tender on first bite, but somehow managed to dry out very quickly. And, in an almost unforgiveable breach of etiquette, the pitmaster trimmed off the fat without asking. He actually had to ask him to put it back in. Because it dried out so quickly, had it not been added back to the lean meat, it would have been like eating dust.

Unfortunately, the ribs were nothing special. Pork only– no beef ribs here. They arrived pretty dried out, and were served tepid, making them a bit greasy. Fortunately, Steve was able to look through the faults, and realized that they still had good flavor, though.

The potato salad was pretty good, with a good balance between egginess & mustard. Not a top tier contender, but a solid middleweight. The sauce was most like an ‘out of bottle’ style thus far, very heavy and sweet. But that said, it did pack a bit of a vinegar kick, and was a much needed complement to the dry meat.

There was a strange lack of traditional sides. Good crispy jalapenos, but no onion slices. When Steve asked for onions, they looked at him strangely, and offered him the chopped onion they put on their sandwiches. No pickles, either dill or sweet, either. Strange.

The bread was the traditional wonder, but because they take it out of the wrapper & hold it in a bowl, it was slightly stale. It was probably a good thing Kim wasn’t here, because stale Wonder bread is not something she suffers lightly. It would’ve surely devolved into a good old fashioned ass-whupping, and Steve didn’t feel like dragging her out of yet another dive, fists swinging wildly.

The Rating: Angelo’s BBQ is a good, solid joint, with that interesting ‘roadhouse’ twist, and one that would certainly merit a return visit if you were in Ft. Worth, but nothing to drive out of your way for.

1:30 pm Tuesday: Sonny Bryant’s BBQ, Dallas, TX -- Can Real BBQ be found in the cold hard city? Well yes it can.

On the road again, alone, as Kim again insists on going to work. Today’s destination: Sonny Bryant’s, an old, tumble-down structure that has clearly been there for years. What it lacks in architectural integrity it more than makes up for in character, though.

Sonny Bryant’s is not a BBQ ‘joint’ like our prior destinations; it’s a veritable BBQ ‘shack’ stuck in the middle of a glistening and manicured medical complex which clearly grew up around it.

The clientele includes everyone from bums and bikers to yuppies, and medical workers in their scrubs, The inside is tiny, and there are no tables, just old wooden school desks nailed around the perimeter. The operation is best described as managed chaos. There’s no line per se, just an owner roaming among the customers shouting out their orders to the pitmaster. They’ve been here since 1910 so clearly their system works.

Sonny’s bears out my earlier thesis that Texans express their individuality through their sausage. Here it’s a hybrid. It’s kielbasa style, but not as compact as Coopers. The fat is fully integrated into the slightly chunky interior. Spices are flecked throughout, and the casing seems to be thicker than normal.

Later, the owner tells me he has it specially made by the previously excoriated Myer Sausage Co, in Elgin. Funny that they can’t make good sausage for themselves, but they manage to do so for Sonny’s.

The brisket is moist and tender with good flavor and a real mopped crust. But it’s too lean and wasn’t served with the fatty underside that is so crucial for a world-class brisket. It’s a good find for Dallas, but not in the top tier.

The biggest surprise at Sonny Bryant’s was the pork ribs. They aren’t Texas at all! In fact, if I closed my eyes, I’d be convinced I was back in the Mid-Atlantic. These were by far the best of the southern ribs I’ve been eating for the last 20 years-- falling off the bone, good outer crust and mopped with a sweet, dense Southern-style BBQ sauce, but I’m not in Virginia, folks!. I’m looking for Texas twang and these ribs just don’t fit the bill. They are good, though.

The stars at Sonny Bryant’s are the sides. The potato salad is damn near perfect, beaten only by City’s Market’s, which actually was perfect. Same for the sauce, a tasty and homemade concoction of vinegar, peppers, black pepper, mustard, and God knows what else.

Cole slaw rounded out the trifecta. It was a wonderful brew of vinegar, mayo, black pepper, celery seed, and some secret ingredients that elevated a beautifully hand hewn mélange of red and white cabbages to art. Steven elects to create a “best cole slaw” category just for this dish.

His only real complaint with Sonny Bryant’s was its bread. In some misguided attempt at originality, they have replaced the sacred Wonder Bread with a choice of hamburger buns (huh?) or hockey puck-like rolls that are stale, and tasteless.

Steve admits to indulging in one last guilty pleasure since the quest was nearing its end—the onion rings. Every single order that went out had them so he gave in to their siren song that had been calling him the whole time he was eating. Were they good, you ask? Let’s put it this way: it’s the closest he's ever felt to wondering if he was cheating on his wife. Orgiastically orgasmic.

They were that good. Giant Vidalia onions, hand cut, hand dipped, hand fried, salted, served blazingly hot and fried so perfectly that there wasn’t a trace of the frying medium left on the paper or on his hands when he was done. Best onion rings he's ever had, period, full stop.

The rating: Sonny Bryant’s BBQ is a fantastic joint, with an unusual ‘shack’ twist, and one that would certainly merit many a return visit if one is in Dallas, or anywhere in the surrounding metroplex,

1:00 pm Wednesday: New Mt. Zion Missionary Baptist Church BBQ, Huntsville, TX – Is one more BBQ joint one too many?

Last stop on the Gods of Brisket tour. We have just one last temple to worship in. one last pitmaster to pay obeisance to, one last mighty fallen bovine to honor with our ritualistic consumption.

To bring the tour full circle, in a touching nod towards sentimentality, our entire little band has reassembled. The supposedly Zen-like but often meat-crazed Arnie, the calm, thoughtful Jen (always there to save us from ourselves); the resigned and bemused scribe Kim (who has agreed to this final challenge despite vociferous protests from her digestive system) and the beautifully mad gastronaut Steve, from whose fevered imagination this whole terrifying, glorious, girth-expanding escapade sprang.

After a detour into deep rural Texas thanks to some wrong GPS directions, we arrive at the New Mt. Zion Missionary Baptist Church. From the moment we added this stop to the itinerary, we have all been wondering about what exactly a church-run BBQ joint would be like. This one turns out to be a tumbled down house next to a reasonably large brick church. And to our delight, it’s a real BBQ joint, complete with a BBQ pit out front belching fragrant hardwood smoke and a battered old easy chair for the pitmaster.

We head in, and find an interior about the size of a standard urban one bedroom apartment, and decorated somewhat as such; lamps, a TV playing soaps, a boombox belting out electric blues (at the same time as the TV), and that wonderful mix of BBQ habitués: local white collars, blue collars, rednecks, sharecroppers, et. al.

As we begin, Steven admits that when he awoke this morning his first thought was “no more BBQ.” Luckily for us all, that momentary flash of insanity passed and he is now rarin’ to go one last time.

The meal is our standard: brisket, sausage, ribs and potato salad. As we dig in, it quickly becomes clear that this offbeat church shack is fun, but not a world-class BBQ destination. To begin with, everything is served family style on platters with actual hard plates, and cutlery--and, well, you know how we feel about that.

The brisket is pot roasty and uncrusted, though tender. The pork ribs are not the crusty marvels of beef we’ve encountered out in the Hill Country. The sausage is a perfectly serviceable kielbasa-style version, but nowhere near the glorious symphony of fat and meat we worshipped in Luling. The potato salad is a bizarre whipped concoction, like
mashed potatoes with potato salad spices. It’s weird, but not altogether unpleasant. Nice tame cowboy-style beans, and the usual condiments of sliced onion, pickled jalapenos, and Wonder bread round out the meal.

Even with its limitations, it was still a great BBQ meal. In fact it was either good enough (or we were panicked that our tour was coming to an end) that we ordered a second round of all the meats. We left only a few pieces, and really that was just so we had room to try the buttermilk pie.

In the end, no, one last joint wasn’t one too many. We ate, laughed and then ate some more. Then Kim and Steve headed to the airport, and Jen and Arnie returned to their real (and much healthier) lives. But plans were already being made for another tour, this time of healthy food joints in L.A.

The rating: We rate New Mt. Zion Missionary Baptist Church BBQ as a wonderful Huntsville institution, full of nice people, and a fun stop if you’re passing through, but not worth a special journey.

Final Thoughts

Five days and 13 restaurants later, our journey came to a close with us sated and grease-sheened. Steven had come to rediscover his gustatory roots; Kim simply wanted to know what Steven had been nattering on about all these years; and Jen and Arnie were looking to break out of their prison of good health and spiritual contentment.

Initially, it was a journey of discovery. We wanted to know things like: How big are our stomachs? What constitutes a lethal dose of cholesterol?

In the process we not only answered those questions (bigger than we thought and we'll let you know when the test results are back) but also discovered that there’s still a little of the meat-loving hunter in each of us. Ok, in each of us except Kim.

We traveled through a unique landscape that evoked images of cowboys riding fence lines and experienced small towns time forgotten by time.

But ultimately, it was a coming home and a rediscovery of timeless friendships. So what started out being about food ended up being about friends. And, with that, we offer these final thoughts for anyone contemplating a comparable journey:

• You want the best BBQ in Texas? It’s not at a restaurant…it’s at the community hall BBQ Joint.
• Good BBQ is all about the cow. A good beef rib is better than a pork rib.
• Good Texas BBQ comes from towns that start with an “L” – Luling (City Market), Lockhart (Smitty’s), Lllano (Cooper’s). Clearly Louie Mueller was supposed to be in “Laylor” not Taylor, TX
• The importance of the vibe: Along the way, we’ve had a range of experiences, in joints from dead to thriving, and realized that it has nothing to do with quality. We went to one at 5 pm and it was dead. We cut it slack until we went across the street at 5:20 and it was packed. But the biggest impression is the WIDE variety of public in the dining room…yuppy golfers, local farmers, Hispanic families and biker clubs. (The best was the biker gang at Smitty’s – lots of leather and metal studs. But how afraid can you be of a big biker dude with a Harley shirt and metal belt, but carrying a great big rainbow sherbet ice cream cone?)
• Even mediocre BBQ meals in Texas are better than what the rest of the nation is used to eating on their best BBQ days.
• I was hoping to bring home some souvenirs from the quest in the form of fun T-shirts, but the real BBQ joints don’t sell “gear.” They don’t ship their meat and they don’t advertise. If you walk in and see a wall of shirts and hats and bumper stickers, you’re in the wrong place.
  

Overall Rankings

Best Brisket
#1 Smitty’s
#2 City Market
#3 Louie Mueller
#4 Cooper's Pit BBQ
#5 Schoepf's

Best Ribs
#1 Louie Mueller
#2 Smitty's
#3 Cooper's Pit BBQ
#4 City Market
#5 Schoepf's

Best Sausage
#1 City Market
#2 Smitty's (Tie: Texas-Style)
#3 Cooper's Pit BBQ (Tie: Kielbasa-Style)
#4 Angelo's (Tie: Polish-Style)
#5 Sonny Bryant (Tie: Hybrid)

Best Sauce
#1 City Market
#2 Sonny Bryant
#3 Smitty's

Best Potato Salad
#1 City Market
#2 Sonny Bryant's
#3 Smitty's
#4 Schoepf's

Best Cole Slaw (Ok, this isn't really a fair category since we only had it twice but this stuff was so good, we created a category just for it.)
#1 Sonny Bryant's

Best Atmosphere
#1 Smitty's
#2 Louie Mueller
#3 City Market
#4 Sonny Bryant's
#5 Angelo's

The End