Stuffed and smoked in TEXAS

They take barbecue seriously in Texas. Several of the joints here have been around for generations, and their rubs and recipes are all very hush-hush. At only 14 years old, Franklin Barbecue has risen to the top as one of America’s best barbecue places, and we had to see it for ourselves. So we went to Texas and met the people behind the BBQ boom.

Aaron Franklin gets to work early, like bakery early, around 3:30 am. But then, it does take a few hours to smoke a brisket. So while the smoke is curling away, Mr. Franklin sits down with a coffee (or several), reads the newspaper, and checks in on the temperature from time to time. Temperature, patience, and the newspaper are the three main ingredients required to make what Bon Appétit magazine calls the best barbecue in the United States.

And boy is it good. As early as nine am, the most devoted followers start lining up outside the simple brick building. Franklin Barbecue opens at eleven, and people wait in line for up to three hours. Aaron, his wife Stacy, and their staff sell brisket, sausage, pulled pork and ribs until the cows come home. Or rather, until they run out, which they do every single day.

Backyard Bbq

But people don’t mind the wait, and there isn’t a single grumpy face among the crowds. Some read books, others stand around chatting. When you get to the counter, you are asked if you want the fatty or the less fatty piece. You choose the fatty piece, for sure, and maybe get a little taste on the side. If you’re lucky, you get the end piece, the one with extra mud on it. Y-U-M.

My own blood sugar levels had not planned on such a long wait — nor factored in the amazing smell of grilled meats for the duration of it. Fortunately, we’ve been invited back to Aaron and Stacy’s for a traditional backyard BBQ, Texas style.

Or rather, not so much to theirs as to their neighbors’ dilapidated backyard. It looks less like a yard and more like a post-Mad Max wasteland, full of scrap metal and old propane tanks. A chicken pecks at the grass, blissfully unaware that the dog is occupied with a piece of brisket nearby. Behind one of the propane tanks, Aaron is busy checking the smoke temperature, because this is what the tank has been transformed into. Aaron himself cuts and welds them into giant, proper, working smokers. It’s impressive. We sip on Lone Stars - Texas’ lightest beer - which is perfect in the heat. Aaron tells me his dad had a BBQ joint in Bryan, Texas, where he grew up. Aaron’s interest grew, and after some experimentation in the backyard, he started Franklin Barbecue in 2009 with his wife Stacy in a parking lot in Austin. Rumor spread quickly and the queue grew in step. Soon they were selling out every day. Today, Franklin Barbecue lives in a different building in east Austin, but the lines continue to snake around the block. They still sell out every day.

Deviled eggs? Yes, please, ma’am!

THE FEAST IS ON

“Time to eat!” Aaron yells out. Everyone snaps to attention, wide grins spreading across their faces. He’s had the time to grill steak and smoke ribs. Stacy served deviled eggs with the drinks, and has now grilled okra and Brussels sprouts. More guests have arrived, each with a sort of excited, glossy look in their eyes. I ask Mason, the neighbor, if he gets a VIP entrance straight to the counter at Franklin Barbecue.

“Absolutely not,” he says, arms flailing. “This is Texas. You don’t cut the line at a barbecue joint.”

BARBECUE IS SERIOUS STUFF IN THE LONE STAR STATE. I sink my teeth into the most tender piece of meat I’ve had this side of Florentine steak. Lord in heaven this is delicious. It’s easy to understand how this fairly shy Texan became popular with Austinites, food bloggers, and BBQ enthusiasts alike. He’s even won a James Beard Award, the most prestigious award for chefs in the US.

The evening carries on, with the guests all eating more meat than could possibly be good for a human, myself included. It’s just impossible to stop. By the time we bid the Franklins and their guests farewell, I promise myself never to eat this much again.

But the stomach’s memory is short. When I come home I’m going to go about finding a propane tank and a welding course.