Best Bites: No matter the style, BBQ right at home in Valley
Published: 02-18-2023 9:00 AM |
‘Barbecue” means many different things to many different people. So does “BBQ.” So let’s get the first big question out of the way first: Is it barbecue or BBQ?
Google Trends, the super-brain, says it’s BBQ. U.S. searches for both terms peak each year in the summer months and bottom out in the winter months, but “BBQ” searches outnumber “barbecue” searches by 10 to 1 in the U.S. and 6 to 1 around the world.
Of all countries, only in Brazil, France, and Italy are “barbecue” searches more common than “BBQ” searches. Apparently there must be something about not abbreviating the term for cooking meat over fire that makes a country better at soccer and sex.
Here in America, where the US national soccer team manager is in a feud with his best player’s family and sex is at an all-time low, we can be thankful, at least, that our BBQ styles vary widely. We have a deep and noble homegrown BBQ tradition across the country, plus a set of bitter regional battles over style. For generations these local battles have pitted state against state, county against county, brother who lives in Ayden, North Carolina (where pulled pork is glazed with a vinegar sauce that has no tomato) against brother who lives in Lexington, North Carolina (pulled pork with vinegar and tomato).
The American belly reaps the benefits, not just of these old local rivalries, but also of the millions of immigrants who bring in versions of their own regional BBQ traditions from the Caribbean, Latin America and Asia to the restaurant table too, interpreting them as necessary for local palates. For instance, Korean restaurants like Cana, reviewed in my Jan. 4 column, serve DIY marinated meats that you cook yourself on a tabletop griddle—and this, too, is called “BBQ.” It’s not always clear what qualifies a cuisine as a type of BBQ.
One thing that is clear, though, is that the greatest BBQ in the world is made in Texas.
Although Texas BBQ happens to be the most delicious, that’s not why it’s the world’s greatest. The rule that “there’s no accounting for taste” is so old that its original language is Latin: De gustibus non disputandum est. Taste is subjective, an artifact of our inaccessibly private selves.
On the other hand, how much labor goes into something is an objectively observable fact of the world: Labor omnia vincit — “labor conquers all.” Cooking is a labor of love, like the year my dad frosted each letter of the QWERTY keyboard onto an individual Tootsie Roll to form the keyboard on the Radio Shack TRS-80 Color Computer 2 cake that he baked for my ninth birthday.
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Texas BBQ is the world’s greatest because it is objectively the most laborious. Hardwood must gently exhale onto dry-rubbed slabs of meat for 12 or 18 or even 24 hours in a meticulously tended smoker.
The preservation technique of smoking meats was first brought to Texas by German immigrants in the mid- to late 1800s. The best BBQ joints in the state are still small-town butcher counters that sell by the pound on wax paper. There are places like Southside Market in Elgin, founded 1882, that have been smoking continuously for about as long as BBQ has existed in America.
The pitmasters’ labor of love at Zack’s Texas Style BBQ, which opened in 2021 in South Deerfield, does such rare New England justice to this exacting regional craft that I think it would earn a nod of approval from folks in the deep heart of Texas.
The first thing you’ll see after pulling up to the unassuming roadside red-planked shack — just what you’d expect from a BBQ gem — will be two rough-looking, Texas-sized smokers surrounded by a few heaps of local hardwoods, whose species rotates seasonally. It was maple embers, at my last visit, that were slow-smoking their way into meltingly tender, crusty, meaty pork ribs and rich, fatty brisket (the real pride of Texas).
The most surprising find at Zack’s is the smoky, meaty chili, a totally original creation based on pulled pork. You can also sample the smoker’s versatility through smoked wings, bacon-wrapped meatballs, pork-belly burnt ends, and BBQ brisket sandwiches. Pulled pork is on the crispy end of the spectrum. Among sides, don’t miss the mac and cheese, a lovely and creamy version made with al-dente cavatappi. Brussels sprouts are another solid choice, roasted deep, dark, and crispy.
Décor is minimal, but a few signs in blue and orange are brightly painted with the names of Texas cities—most importantly Lockhart, BBQ capital of America—reminds you of the inspiration. The few tables and chairs in the room are simple and sparse, but a lot of people take out as is traditional for BBQ, which doesn’t need to be served piping hot and keeps well for days even unrefrigerated, as the early Texas Germans knew. So consider it for camping.
Warning: the ribs—Zack’s very best work—don’t come out until 2 p,m, daily. They’re worth scheduling around.
Bub’s, a log cabin in Sunderland, was the BBQ standard of my childhood, and their famous motto, “pig out in style,” will be forever inscribed on my psyche. It’s a casual but fun place to eat, with a dark wooden interior that gives off a rustic, slightly Wild-West vibe. Bub’s has long been a favorite for standards like St. Louis ribs, baby back ribs, brisket,and pulled pork.
In 2022, the restaurant was taken over by a new owner who calls his BBQ “New England-style,” with a focus on local farms (see https://bit.ly/3HVIqbq). To complement the standard BBQ menu, there’s smoked prime rib, hickory-smoked potatoes, and a few shoutouts to the Gulf Coast such as fried green tomatoes, gumbo and alligator.
Meanwhile, on the shores of the South China Sea, BBQ means something completely different: pigs and ducks, their skin lacquered and air-dried to an ethereal crispiness, their carcasses hung on metal hooks and then hacked into bite-sized chunks with a cleaver. Over the past century our many immigrants from China, especially the Guangdong (Canton) province, have decorated American cities from sea to shining sea with this unique form of roast meat preservation.
Chef Lau in Amherst is a simple Chinese lunch counter that specializes in Hong-Kong-style food—including, best of all, Hong Kong-style BBQ. The room is simple, bright, and friendly, with the feeling of an open family kitchen. Many or perhaps most customers order takeout, but it’s a clean and friendly spot to plop down for lunch.
Chef Lau’s Hong Kong-style char siu (barbecued pork) has a sweet, complex depth and a darker color and shinier texture than most versions I’ve tried. Gently poached chicken thigh, sliced and skin-on, comes with a cup of delicate garlic and ginger sauce—you’ll use every drop. Ask for a char-siu-and-chicken combo, and you’ll get some of each over a plate of rice that absorbs all the rich juices from both.
Other regional highlights of the menu at Chef Lau include Hong-Kong-style chicken pot, salt and pepper shrimp or calamari, and pork ribs with garlic. There’s also a substantial Chinese-American menu more similar to what you’d find elsewhere, like a bright, springy plate of tofu with broccoli.
There are three other American-style BBQ joints I must mention. First, Tavern on the Hill, the most scenic restaurant not just in Easthampton but probably all of the Valley, has now reopened after a devastating fire last year. Smoked pork, brisket and ribs make up the fiery kernel of their longer menu. A full review of their new-and-improved operation will follow in warmer weather.
Another legit Texas-style BBQ operation, a bit more out of town for most folks in the area, is the North Village Smokehouse in Millers Falls, whose brisket is USDA prime. Finally, Theodore’s in Springfield is even further out of my jurisdiction, but it’s the only place in western Massachusetts where you can gnaw ribs while watching live blues, and the barbecue is right on the money. Almost every time I end up getting off the Amtrak at Springfield, I stop at Theodore’s.
Speaking of stopping and starting, for the rest of 2023, my Gazette column will appear monthly, rather than biweekly. I have deeply appreciated the many notes I’ve received from readers who have written to say they’ve enjoyed reading the column, including those who have encouraged me to continue it every two weeks. But I would rather write less often than compromise the level of quality in research and writing that I expect of myself and you expect of me. In the coming months, I will depart sometimes from the strict format of a restaurant review and tell a few more in-depth stories about local food experiences that have moved me.
Robin Goldstein is the author of “The Menu: Restaurant Guide to Northampton, Amherst, and the Five-College Area.” He serves remotely on the agricultural economics faculty of the University of California, Davis. He can be reached at rgoldstein@ucdavis.edu.