My fingers smell like smoke. My hair smells like smoke. My skirt and my sweater smell like smoke too. I've just come back from lunch at Hill Country Barbecue, and if I close my eyes I can pretend that I'm still there, eating slices of brisket. I hate it when people talk about meat "melting" but that's really the only way to describe what happens when you pick up a slice of this beef and slap it between two slices of bread. Magic! The beef ribs are incredible too, and the sausage, from Kreuz in Lockhart, Texas is zinged with jalapenos and laced with cheddar cheese. There are pork and chicken, smoked to the bone, but this is Texas Hill Country-style barbecue, and beef is the thing here.
Atmosphere? Hill Country rustic, with everything sold by the pound and served on pink butcher paper.
Quibbles? The bread's too dense and the sides aren't stellar. But the meat is everything a 'cue addict could ask for.
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