Lewis Barbecue is another of those Texas-style brisket restaurants that have been invading pork country in the last few years.
Apparently, they can’t leave well enough alone.
At least Monkey Wrench and The Smoke Pit have the decency to leave the B word off their portmanteau. As everybody knows, beef ain’t barbecue.
Lewis is a recent transplant from Charleston and has taken
over the edifice of the iconic Tommy's Country Ham House whose memory is still
regarded fondly by the locals. Gone is the hung ceiling with its accustomed water spots. The vaulted ceiling gives the place a nice airy feel. There is ample seating inside and a bar that serves all the
standard libations. There’s a porch if that’s what it’s called, where people
can sit on bar stools at a long shelf-like surface and look out over the
spacious portico, filled with picnic tables made in a style that I might call a
cross between 19th Century barn and Twentieth Century industrial. A nice touch are the horseshoes under the
shelf on which to hang hats, purses, and presumably, gun belts—it
is a Texas-style place after all.
But enough about the atmosphere. As I like to say, you can’t
eat it, you just pay for it. When I walked up to the bar the guy shoved a
glistening piece of brisket in my face like a hawker at the fair. I popped it
in my mouth and remarked, “This tastes like a dead cow.” My wife had to explain
the joke. After sticking the hunk of beef in my face, he pronounced that
they most certainly did not give samples of their sausage, which has the
extremely appetizing moniker of Hot Guts. Nor do they offer burnt ends. They do
have pulled pork, kind of shoved off to the side as if they hope nobody
notices, but for the sake of journalism, I compromised my principles and went
for the beef. My wife, who’s from near Lexington North Carolina, and therefore more of a
purist, ordered the pork.
They have a variety of Texas-style sides, including Cowboy
Pintos and Corn Pudding, as well as slaw, and fries, which, at first, I mistook
for pork skins due to their odd shape. Noticeably absent was that old standby
of Carolina ‘Q joints, sweet potato crunch.
The meal is served, again, Texas-style, on pink butcher paper. My wife and I each got ½ pound of meat, which they boldly proclaim is the
“recommended portion” (Priced by weight, of course) with two sides, drinks, and
a couple of sausages to take home. I was hoping I didn’t get stopped by a cop
on the way.
“What
you got in that bag, sir?”
“Oh, It’s
just some Hot Guts,”
“STEP
OUTTA THE CAR!”
For the food, and including the tip, which alone was more
than I’m used to paying for a barbecue sandwich, (and I hit the middle button)
the bill came to almost $75. It kind of reminded me of when I ate at the Boat
House on the Isle of Palms and got shrimp and grits for $8.00 per crustacean.
That may fly in a tourist trap like Charleston, but IMO it’s a little steep for
up here in good ole boy central.
 |
| $75.000 on a tray. Here's what $75.00 will get you at Lewis. Note the fries disguised as pork skins |
It was a little disconcerting, in this town built by farmers
and mill workers, to have spent tad shy on one meal, of what would have been a
week’s pay for my grandfather when he worked at the old Union Bleachery back in the '60's.
The brisket was fork-tender and juicy with great bark, good
smoke, and the standard Texas rub, which is loaded with black pepper. The pork
was tender with good smoke and a sweet finish.
The Cowboy Pintos were well cooked and garnished with minced onions and jalapeños, but a little heavy on the chili powder. They have three sauces to choose from if that’s your thing and a cute dispenser that spits plasticware at you one piece at a time like R2D2 sticking out his tongue.
Everything about the meal was pleasing and satisfying, but at that price, I decided the next time I want some smoked beef I’m going to go out on the back porch and fire up the old Masterbuilt.
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