Corinne Trang

Entering Smitty's

What I got was a crash course in brisket and BBQ lingo

Friends say that I’m obsessed with barbecue. I’ve always preferred the word “passionate,” myself.  It is an ongoing curiosity with me, and the art—because it is an art—of barbecuing fascinates me to no end. It’s also the people I’ve met while exploring this great culinary tradition that keeps me coming back for more. My Southern friends are like my European friends and family in many ways. They love to take their time to live, enjoying their meals over several hours while eating, drinking, and telling stories. Having lived in New York City for twenty or more years where everyone always seems to be in a rush is something I’ve never gotten used to. So naturally, I look forward to my trips to Austin, TX, where I get to take it all in at a slow and steady pace from the minute I land at the airport and imagine a distinct, enticing smoky aroma tickling my nose.

Kreuz' brisket

On this most recent trip I was on a mission to find the best brisket because that’s what Texas barbecue is known for. The problem is that I’ve tried brisket many times but have never really enjoyed it, finding it dry especially when compared to other cuts of beef I much prefer for their melt-in-your-mouth moist and tender character. For example, a buttery hanger steak, grilled until slightly charred on the outside and juicy medium-rare on the inside, and served with a pile of thin golden frites, a classic French bistro fare; or braised short ribs or oxtail with that sinewy tender meat that locks in all sorts of rich sauces like the fragrant traditional Vietnamese kho, a caramel and fish sauce-based braising liquid spiced with star anise, lemongrass, garlic, and chilies; or a thick slice of prime rib roasted in a hot oven until golden crisp, each bite sprinkled delicately with coarse sea salt and served with a large baked flaky potato on the side. So it’s not that I don’t love red meat, as some friends have argued when I’ve turned down brisket. I love it, but will admit to having shied away from this Texas favorite, until now.

Whole Foods' brisket: the turning point, no pun intended!

My newfound interest in brisket started this past June while I was on my book tour. There I was at Whole Foods on 6^th (the original!) preparing to teach a class celebrating my newly released book, Noodles Every Day (Chronicle Books, 2009) when I noticed a young man sitting in the classroom. He was wearing his chef’s whites and so I decided to strike up a conversation about brisket. It went something like this, “so what’s the deal with barbecued brisket?” Born and raised in Texas, he walked over to me and introduced himself as Lawrence Kocurek, the executive chef of this upscale supermarket. With great enthusiasm he responded, “I love it!” Naturally, I was curious as to why anyone would love a piece of meat that was dry. “Our brisket is not dry. It’s really good and juicy,” he insisted, “would you like to taste it?” I had convinced myself that it would be a waste of time, but when he asked “lean or fatty?” my ears perked up instantly. Nobody had ever given me a choice before in any of the barbecue joints I’d been to in the past. Excited, I quickly answered, “fatty, please,” which seemed logical to me.

Moments later Chef Kocurek returned with a white paper plate containing three thick slices of clearly juicy and fatty brisket. I couldn’t wait to take that first bite, and to my delight, it was tender, juicy, with the right amount of fat. “Why is it so good?” I asked him. “We cook our brisket at 220°F for at least 16 hours.” He then went on to describe the brisket as having two distinct parts, the fatty “top hemisphere” and the lean “bottom hemisphere.” When I explained to him that in the many years I’d been coming to Austin, not one pitmaster had ever offered me the fatty part, he responded, “yeah, they won’t unless you specifically ask for it.” Then I thought, not one of my Texan friends had ever informed me about the two cuts of brisket either, and when I’ve complained about how dry the meat was, it never occurred to anyone, not friends nor pitmasters, to explain to me that there were indeed two ways to order brisket. I was simply floored!

Shannon (meat coma, I think, but what a pal) as we finally get to City Market, our last BBQ joint on this tour.

I wanted a thicker bark and smokier flavor.

After my experience with Whole Foods’ brisket, I was intrigued and wanted to dig into the subject further. I wanted a thicker bark and smokier flavor. I called up my friend Shannon Henry, a competitive extreme mountain biker, and the only friend crazy enough to go BBQ joint hoping all day to taste brisket after brisket with me. I also knew it was Shannon’s favorite meat, and so he picked me up and we were on our way to Lockhart, a town in Hill Country, about an hour outside of Austin.

In preparation for this adventure, I sent out an “S.O.S to all pitmasters” I knew, asking them about the top and bottom hemisphere of the brisket. What I got was a crash course in brisket and BBQ lingo: 1) the whole brisket can be referred to as the “lobe,” “whole,” or “packer;” 2) it consists of two parts known as the “top hemisphere” and the “bottom hemisphere;” 3) the “bottom hemisphere” is also known as the “flat” or “lean;” 4) the “top hemisphere” is often called the “point,” “fatty”, “deckle,” or “good part;” and if you ever were curious as to where the “burnt ends” (quite literally) used to flavor baked beans came from, that would be the “point.”

“…think of it [brisket] as the unruly child of the BBQ world.”

Still, to make sure I had all of my ducks in a row, and before embarking on this beef-eating escapade, I thought I would reach out to pitmaster Bob Devine (most recently of Brother Jimmy’s in New York City) for some last words of wisdom, and sure enough he warned, “brisket is the hardest meat to cook to perfection. You have to think of it as the unruly child of the BBQ world. Not one of them is the same, every piece having a different fat and collagen content. Some will just never cook to completion. So producing a great brisket is something I admire a great deal.” This would explain the inconsistencies I’ve experienced when eating brisket.

And so with all of this in mind, Shannon and I were on our way to Lockhart where we would go to such famous places as Black’s, Kreuz Market, Smitty’s Market, and Chisholm Trail. We also went back to one of my old time favorites City Market in Luling, not to mention The Salt Lick in Driftwood, and Iron Works (known for their beef ribs, especially) in Austin the day before, without forgetting of course Whole Foods where my curiosity about brisket grew drastically upon tasting theirs. But by the time we got to Lockhart, I was confident about ordering, and when I came face to face with the pitmaster in each place I would ask for “brisket. The fatty please!”

At Black's slicing the "good part!"

Black’s was our first stop. When I reached the pit room where the pitmaster was slicing brisket, I asked for “the fatty, please,” to which he responded “ah…you want the good part,” and with that we both smiled as if we were in on a little secret no one else knew about. I walked off the line with brisket, sweet potatoes, and pickles on my plate, which I shared with my friend. I couldn’t wait to dig in and with gusto I took that first bite. Succulent with a good amount of bark, not too dark and not too light, not to thick and not too thin, it was basically balanced, perfect, more perfect than that of Whole Foods. And with that, Black’s’ brisket would become my new standard.

Kreuz was next. The massive, imposing cookers with fire pits off to the side at the very end projected about 1000 or more degrees. They were loaded with brisket among other meats, and made quite an impression. But while their brisket was good, it was not nearly as good as the first I’d tasted, being ever so slightly springy. Still this place was well worth the try and I would certainly go back just to take a closer look at these cookers. (The “original” sausage ruled, though!)

I’d been to Smitty’s before. It’s quite the place. With an old world character, it had a long dark hallway with industrial fans hanging from the ceiling, and a shop outfitted with old ice boxes, butcher blocks, meat scales, and old cash registers off to one side, with the prep and storage room next to it. The place felt as if time had stopped. Sitting at one of the long benches lined up against the wall, I quickly imagined the place decades earlier, people eating or ordering at the meat shop. I then went on to the pit room, where it was just like I remembered it years earlier. I loved the all brick cookers in a rather cramped space, noticing everyone sweating while standing on line in the steamy hot room, getting their orders served on craft paper. In the brightly lit dining room, another counter offered sides of avocado, pickles, and beverages. I ordered the dill pickle to accompany the brisket, which was good, tender, but definitely no match to Black’s’. Shannon and I moved on…

Black's BBQ Two Step!

“…I’d like to taste the point, the deckle, the good part…you know…the fatty,”

As proud as I was to know how to order “the fatty,” I would encounter push back at Chilsholm Trail when the guy completely ignored my request. I asked again, and he returned a look of disbelief asking while holding up the “flat,” “isn’t that fatty enough for you?” Standing at about 6′ and weighing about 300 pounds to my just shy of 5’4” and 125-pound frame, I pushed back “actually, no! I’d like to taste the point, the deckle, the good part…you know…the fatty,” trying every word in the BBQ brisket dictionary to make sure he understood what I was looking for. He returned with the fatty asking “how much?” And with that I said, “one slice, please!” (Remember, this was one of many I would taste that day, so I had to pace myself.) Chilsholm Trail’s walls were adorned with all sorts of recent awards. Strangely enough, their overly salted barbecue brisket (not to mention sides) was nothing to write home about.

Black’s was definitely hard to match, but still we decided to drive to Luling for City Market’s BBQ, one of my old time favorites. There’s something special about City Market. To this day, I’ll never forget the first time I went, which was about 14 years ago. Three guys just outside the joint, on the sidewalk, selling their pecan pies and peach pies while tap dancing and singing the blues, is a scene still vivid in my mind. It was one of those moments you couldn’t make up if you tried, and 14 years ago it was there for the taking. It’s a special place because this is where my love of barbecue began, where I understood for the first time how complex it was, and that it wasn’t just massive amounts of meat cooked in a large pit, but something refined with layers upon layers of flavors and textures intermingled into something that explodes in your mouth, while trying to figure out, “what?” “How?”

Black's brisket...the winner, this time!

Think of it as a religion…

Today, the brisket at Black’s’ wins. Who knows tomorrow? Everyone is entitled to an off day, and to be perfectly fair barbecue is better had during the early part of the day as opposed to late afternoon. Also, I should mention that when discussing BBQ, one should do so with caution. Think of it as a religion, as die-hard, loyal fans will swear by a specific joint, pitmaster, and style as in “wet” or “dry.” Lastly, realize that it is very much a matter of preference. For example, I like my sauce on the side, if any.

And with that, after eating barbecue for days, I came home from my trip appreciating brisket with a desire to learn more about this tough piece of meat turned tender by the low-and-slow cooking process. As soon as I opened the door to my New York City apartment, I dropped my bags and immediately went to my cookbook library, picking out my two favorite books on the subject: Ray Lampe’s Dr. BBQ’s Big-Time Barbecue Cookbook (St. Martin’s Griffin, 2005), and Chris Lilly’s Big Bob Gibson’s BBQ Book (Clarkson Potter, 2009). Written by two of our country’s most celebrated competitive champion pitmasters, both books are loaded with information on technique, styles, as well as tips for competing, not to mention delicious easy-to-follow recipes. Turning to page 59 in his book, Lampe explains that, “the whole brisket consists of two distinct muscles with two textures and very different fat percentages. The grain in both muscles is very coarse, but it runs in different directions,” which is why the brisket is generally split in two parts, the “flat,” being the “prettier muscle of the two,” and the “point” being the fattier and rarely sold alone because it is generally turned into burger meat instead. Turning to page 84 in his book, Lilly further explains that, “the toughest cuts can be made palatable through the slow-cooking process. These results are achieved by breaking down the collagen in the connective muscle tissues, yielding tenderness.”

Reading this book is like talking to Ray Lampe...Fun read with great recipes!

Full of historical and personal anecdotes, Chris Lilly makes you want to "Q!"

Combined, pitmasters Ray Lampe and Chris Lilly have over 40 years experience putting into practice what they preach, and when they talk I listen. I’ve also had plenty of practice eating barbecue, and have even gotten my hands dirty a few times (check out the video right here!). I’ve become a die-hard fan of barbecue over the years, and I too have my favorite pitmasters, BBQ joints, and styles. This year I’m especially excited about the subject because on October 24th in Lynchburg, TN, I will be judging my first barbecue competition and most prestigious of them all, the 2009 Jack Daniel’s World Championship Invitational Barbecue (sign in and click on “Happenings”). I can’t wait to sink my teeth into some award-winning barbecue from around the country when over 70 teams compete for “bragging rights,” while I satisfy my on-going craving for all things smoked…amen!

Join me and celebrated pitmasters Ray Lampe and Chris Lilly for more on BBQ on the “Home and Lifestyle Show with Ron Smith,” Saturday, Oct 17 from 9 to 11 AM on 106.7 FM TALK RADIO, San Antonio, TX.