My birthday falls during Fourth of July weekend — always has, always will — which has both its culinary ups … and more ups.
It means that, at least on the Fourth, I’ll spend the day inhaling hot dogs and hamburgers, cornbread and corn on the cob, and baked beans swimming with burnt ends. And to set my birthday apart from the Fourth, I’ve made it a day to celebrate myself with BBQ — lots and lots of BBQ. Meats redolent of smoke and sauce, tender and melting, so good that I lose all control. It’s my birthday, after all. I can always diet with … another hot dog.
We live in an age when comfort foods are not just desired, they’re essential. Oreo cookies comfort me. So does dark chocolate gelato — the darker the better. And then, there’s BBQ, the ultimate non-vegan experience. Chewing on a nice meaty pork or beef rib, or some brisket, slow-cooked and filled with the flavor of burnt wood — that’s the way to celebrate.
For the sake of standardization, let’s call it “BBQ.” I know it’s also “bar-b-q” and “barbecue” and even, in more rarefied lands, “barbeque.” But that “que” seems pretentious. By changing “que” into “cue” and then into “BBQ,” there’s an element of Americanization at work, turning the word from its French roots to street lingo, smacking of dingy bar stools, beer from a bottle, and whiskey out of a fruit jar.
BBQ is real people’s food. It may parade in classy duds, but underneath is a taste of smoky rooms and bad-tempered Saturday nights. BBQ is food you eat with your teeth, your jaws, your whole being. I’m not talkin’ quiche here, I’m talkin’ ribs.
Ribs are, of course, not just ribs. Beyond the quality of the meat — and the care with which the pitman works the fires of the great brick oven, and the nature of the wood used to flavor the smoke — there is the sauce, which often comes in two forms.
The first is what Texans called the “sop” or the “mop,” which is the marinade in which the meat is first soaked, and then basted throughout the cooking process. The second sauce is the one you slop on the ribs when the crucial moment of ingestion is near. That sauce comes in mild or hot versions. Do not take these labels lightly.
Some years ago, I was waiting for an order of ribs at the fabled Vic & Betty’s Soul Bar-B-Q in South San Francisco, when the woman working my order sighted a pimpmobile rolling by outside. “Uh-oh!” she declared, “there goes that baaaaad dude. If he comes in here for some ’cue I’m gonna give him the hot sauce to get rid of him.”
I swallowed hard, and got ready for a long evening, for I had already ordered the hot sauce. She was right — it had me sweating, gasping and making strange noises for hours afterward.
These days, what I go for is the flavor of the meat, as unsullied by sauce as possible. Which is why I love BBQ from the following local wonders, where smoke is not just in the air, but in the meat as well.
Get ready to chew … with a smile. And for me, to celebrate another year in high-cholesterol style. And in case you’re wondering, the best thing to drink with BBQ is beer, preferably on tap. But a six pack will do.
Britt’s BBQ
408 Main St., El Segundo; 310-640-0408, www.instagram.com/brittsbbqandcatering/?hl=en
At Britt’s BBQ, there are salads on the menu — a bit of a concession to those who can’t live without a salad, though the BBQ chipotle salad is topped with a choice of smoked meats, which seems to make it more of a plate of meat with greens, than of greens with meat.
More substantial are the feeds listed under the heading “Meals” — the BBQ bean bowl made with hot links, pork and brisket; and the BBQ tacos, with a choice of pork, brisket or chicken, and two sides. The menu is thoughtful enough to explain the difference between rib cuts, though I am still befuddled.
There are spare ribs. And there are St. Louis ribs, which are spare ribs with the rib tips cut off. We’re told baby backs are “the filet mignon of ribs.” And there are rib tips as well. Pictures would help.
Or, maybe you could just cut to the chase, and order the two-, three- or four-meat combos — a bit of everything, including the smoked chicken.
My attitude toward ribs has long been, if they’re in front of me, and they’re properly tender, I’ll eat them all. Though if I’m feeling like taking it easy, the pulled pork, pulled chicken and beef brisket sandwiches are very tasty. Ditto the smoked meat sliders — little sandwiches, that allow you to pretend you’re not eating much.
Harry’s Oklahoma Style Smokehouse BBQ
25501 Narbonne Ave., Lomita; 310- 326-9842, www.homeofharrysbbq.com
Harry’s Oklahoma Style Smokehouse BBQ used to have a dining room. But so much of their business was takeout and catering — and for good reason! — that pitmaster Jon Harry Bayouth, and his wife Margot Dean, decided to go takeout only. Which means drop by their shop on Narbonne Avenue, and expect to go stark raving bonkers from the wonderful aromas rising from your takeout package.
This is a meal of pure BBQ madness. Usually, my meat of choice is brisket. But one taste of the melt-in-your-mouth tri-tip at Harry’s made me reconsider that leaning. This is meat, thick with smoke, tender as a mother’s love, that I’ve long imagined is found at the sort of roadside ’que shacks that fill the Midwest and the South — the sort of obsessive joints we Southern Californians dream of finding.
And there’s more, of course. There always is. The chicken breast is as good as the tri-tip. The baby back ribs hold up their own. There are fine beans to have, along with classic cornbread, and a vinegar-based “sassy” slaw that’s a dish that should not be ignored.
The meat is turned into sandwiches, and salads. There are sizable dinner portions that come with two sides, rolls and butter. And then, there are the combos, pre-set, which give you an idea of the extent of the catering available.
While you wait, take note of the photos of Jon Harry with a lifetime of celebs. Ricky Nelson! Glen Campbell! The man has fed them all! And us as well.
Joey’s Smokin’ BBQ
25308 Crenshaw Blvd., Torrance; 310-257-1324, www.getmesomebbq.com
There are plenty of barbecue shops around town that offer minimalist menus, in the style of roadside stands in the Carolinas or Texas. Joey’s Smokin’ BBQ is not one of them. The menu here is considerable, with an array of appetizers, salads, sandwiches, burgers and sides, along with the various and sundry BBQ combo plates.
There’s also a dueling option of a Texas baked potato and a Carolina baked potato — that’s good, tasty, sort of gluttonous fun! I actually don’t know if either can be found in Texas or the Carolinas. But I’m not one to quibble over authenticity.
The Texas model is packed with chopped smoked brisket, bacon, cheddar, jack and sour cream. The Carolina version is pulled pork, bacon, cheddar, jack and sour cream. Sweet sauce goes over both.
There are brisket stuffed potato skins as well, for those who might be watching their carbs. And for those who aren’t, there are some very good, very crispy corn fritters — they’re much like falafel balls, but without garbanzos and tahini. They come with a chili lime sauce that Joey’s should bottle and sell.
At a lot of BBQ shops, the beans are just an afterthought. Here, they’re a tasty combination of brown pinto beans and red kidney beans; the kidney beans add a serious taste and texture to the beans. They also make the beans kind of, well, pretty. They’re as nice to look at, as they are to eat. Though they will be eaten, every last one.
And so will the baby backs, which aren’t quite sliding off the bone, but they’re close. The smoked brisket, dense and intense, and as I said, is even better well-sauced. Ditto the tri tip; it’s hard to say which is better, and that’s okay, since the combos allow you to mix and match as you wish.
There are beef ribs as well, along with pulled pork, smoked chicken and Cajun hot links. Everything comes with a side of very moist, very fluffy cornbread; order extra, since it will vanish fast.
Willingham’s World Champion BBQ
443 S. Pacific Coast Hwy., Redondo Beach; 424-390-4300, www.willinghambbq.com
With a grandiose name like Willingham’s World Champion BBQ, you’d expect a Las Vegas style production, with neon, fireworks, skydivers — goodness knows what else!
What you might not expect is a storefront in a Redondo Beach mini-mall, dominated by a local bottle shop called Ruby Liquor. There’s a Ramada next door. But then, as those of us who believe firmly that BBQ is a gift from God know, the best ’que is often found in the least expected of locations — in funky markets in the Texas outback, in cinder block shacks in the Carolina Low Country … and right here in a Redondo mini-mall.
How good is Willingham’s? Let me tell you; I’d gladly shut down my laptop for the day for a bite of John H. Willingham’s much lauded brisket, his sublime chili, his astonishing St. Louis pork ribs. The man wears the title of Overall World’s Bar-B-Que Grand Champion, awarded to his cooking team, the River City Rooters, back in the early 1980s — and, far as I can tell, was never taken away.
The back page of his takeout menu is a long list of the cook-offs at which he was named grand champion. And here he is, in a mini-mall shop with a handful of tables, serving eat-in, and takeout to the well-tanned masses.
Or, at least, here’s his BBQ. John left us at the age of 80, back in 2013. His legacy continues. You can get your meat by the pound, which is good for takeout, or if you’re just feeling especially peckish. Half-pound, and pound orders of the brisket, the pulled pork, the turkey breast (nice and smoky), the jalapeño sausage and the St. Louis pork ribs, along with the half slabs (short end or long end) and the full slabs is my idea of comfort food, when the world is too much for me.
I’m not sure I have the words needed to properly describe the brisket, which may well be the best found here in SoCal. It has a layer of crust, over a cap of tender fat, with a savannah of meat sweet and tender as a mother’s love, and a second layer of crust redness on the bottom. It’s smoky, but not so smoky as to make you feel like you’re eating a cigar. It hammers you with new levels of taste with every bite. It’s not so much a dish, as an accomplishment.
If I had taken some home, and put it in the freezer, I’d worry I’d eat it before it defrosted — a brisketsicle that could be sold on a stick.
And though it’s probably the high point of the pit master’s skill, it’s far from all there is. The pulled pork is so tender, and in such a vinegary sweet sauce as to potentially pass for a dessert dish — for those of us who consider ’que to be a perfectly acceptable dessert.
The pork ribs make me glad I’ve got all my teeth, and that they’re well anchored; it’s a dish you’ll want to gnaw on till there’s nothing left.
Sauced BBQ & Spirits
Park Place, 2015 Park Place, El Segundo; 310-426-8783, www.saucedbbqandspirits.com
On a page near the deeply pork-intensive house brew section of the menu at (Hawgs ’n Heifersweizen, Piggy Style Pale Ale, Pig Head Red Ale, Dirty Little Pig IPA and so forth), you’ll find a page headed “How to get some axe.” (And yes, they do love their off-color puns here!)
We learn that the lanes open at 3 p.m. weekdays, and noon on weekends. And that if ax throwing isn’t your thing, you also can make reservations for bocce and shuffleboard.
All of that made me feel kind of indolent and downright lazy. Since my main activity at Sauced was elbow-bending and both heavy chewing and swallowing. Along with intensely staring at the multitude of big screens everywhere you turn in the massive space.
And then, there’s the barbecue — which really should not be given short shrift among all these sports to watch and play, all this energetic elbow bending. Meat is at the heart and soul of it all, both pork and beef, with the occasional excursion into the realm of chicken and smoked jackfruit. (Sauced is a California chain, with six branches between the North and the South of the state. Vegetarian options are called for. Though in my humble opinion, they miss the point. Jackfruit will never replace pork belly burnt ends, try as it might.)
The slogan on the front of the menu reads, “Eat our meat.” Within, there’s a box that reads, “Our butts … a good rub” and “Pork out with your fork out.” (There are no slogans about jackfruit or veggies of any sort!)
The meat is darned good for a massive operation — reasonably chewy St. Louis cut spare ribs, those pork belly burnt ends along with (for my money) even tastier brisket burnt ends (twice-smoked and twice-rubbed), properly addictive brisket, seriously tasty Carolina pulled pork with a “vinegar-based mop sauce,” and a super tender smoked chicken with an apricot glaze that doesn’t detract from the smoke.
They turn the meats into plates, and they turn them into sandwiches. But better still, several of the meats are part of the appetizers — which are more than big enough to be meals in themselves.
Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.
