Pitmaster John Mueller was unceremoniously relieved of his duties by his sister LeAnn Mueller who owns the place. An excellent version of spiced up pinto beans made it a good meal, if only the brisket had been left off. Still, the unevenness of the three trips of and of this single plate was frustrating. These ribs were perfectly cooked and plenty moist. The meat needed a small tug to come off the bone, but the smoke was there. The dark red crust was flecked with pepper and just enough salt. Somehow the ribs had improved by leaps and bounds. It was serviceable roast beef and not much more. Thick slices of gray meat lacked good fat, crust and smoke. This pale brisket didn’t really have a chance anyway. They began with a bit of a disadvantage since my fried Scott and I were fresh off a great visit to Pecan Lodge which was phenomenal. The smoker was still in hiding it seemed. This time it came straight from a warmer off to the side of the patio. Still no sausage, but the combo plate of brisket and ribs appeared quickly. I waited until a Saturday afternoon and snuck into the patio. It started out as Friday, Saturday and Sunday, but they shaved off the Friday service. My next try was thwarted by the ever changing hours of their barbecue availability. It was even better than what we had at the table. On the way out I grabbed a slice of the fresh brisket from an unknowing meat carver. Despite the ribs, as we left the table, the consensus was that they were destined for greatness. We’d been visited by the pitman, the owner and the kitchen manager at a few points during the meal, so I had learned my lesson about getting too friendly. Their pleasing bronze bark and simpler rub did make for a deeper smokiness. He was still learning, but the ribs were as advertised – disintegrating. I cringed when Eduardo told the table (we were dining very much NOT incognito along with the Texas BBQ Posse) that he knew the ribs were done when they were falling off the bone, all with a gleam in his eye. The ribs didn’t seem to be aspiring towards anything. After a quick glance and one bite it seems right, but after a couple of slices you just realize that it’s a fake. This was the Louis Vuitton bag that you get in the subway station. Wrapping the meat with 1/3 of the cooks still to go probably had a negative effect as well. The depth of oak smoke was missing, and the heavy mix of rub ingredients that included sugar along with the liberal use of a basting spray (which had bourbon in it) throughout the cooking process was washing out the smoke. The crust was heavy with coarse black pepper and plenty of salt, the surface was black and a line of fat was perfectly rendered, the smokering was deep and the meat was on the verge of falling apart. Some familiar elements of Aaron Franklin’s brisket were there on the first visit. In three visits over ten weeks, I never did find the In my opinion), and are still working with a local supplier to get anĪcceptable recipe. Reincarnation (which is the least of the four cuts offered at Franklin The sausage caused a short-lived local ruckus and seemed more like an Shooting for such a high quality target, but the reverse engineering of Recreate the barbecue of Franklin Barbecue in Austin.
Instead of letting him find his own way, he was asked to Passion if not commercial barbecue experience. Worked his whole life in one kitchen or another. Theįirst thing I told them to do was hire a real pitman who would beĭedicated to making great barbecue, not just an hourly worker who mightĪdd a log every hour or so. Hard to locate these days, but I have feeling that’s by design. Original uncovered configuration in an Uptown parking lot.
A little too big to hide from the health inspector in its
It was built by local welderĮverett Klugston (this was his first smoker ever produced) and it was a When they first asked me to come in, they’d already secured a large
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