Lewis' Barbecue: Big Texas Menu, Big Texas Prices

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 19^th 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.

 

Monkey Wrench Smoke House: It's About the Meat

             

Legacy: Monkey Wrench resides in a building that once held the

 iconic Martha's Hardware Store.

         I’ve been wanting to visit this place despite its rumored pricey menu since it opened in 2018. Due to some internet comments about the service when it first opened, I decided to let things settle down a bit.

        The first thing I noticed was that it was dark inside, which made me wonder if my old eyes would be able to discern the menu. The décor is standard BBQ joint with exposed rafters and rustic pine furniture. For decades the building housed a hardware store that was a local landmark, hence the name.

        They have a lunch menu that offers a chopped sandwich and a drink for eight bucks, which we both went for. They offer four sauces: Kansas City, mustard, Lexington, and a Carolina favorite, Cheerwine sauce. (If you lived here, you’d know). There were no noticeable pigs in the place, but they did have a huge mural of a bovine skull which it seems would be more at home in Colorado than Carolina

A lotta bull: There were no visible pigs inside but the 

wall is decorated with this huge mural. 

The sandwich was served on a substantial bun almost guaranteed to hold up under heavy saucing, if that's your thing. The fries looked to be hand cut and were cooked pleasantly well done. The pork, while juicy and flavorful, had barely a hint of smoke. It could have been cooked in a crock pot for all I know.

       We decided the lunch special was only about a dollar more what we pay at one of our favorite places down the street. Is it enough to bring us back? Maybe for the Brisket.

           

Lunch Special  Eight bucks gets you a sandwich and fries with a drink.

🐷🐷🐷

Backcountry Barbecue

My friend Marc Hoffman has been nagging me to check out this restaurant for a couple of years. Over the recent holiday weekend, I finally got a chance. Backcountry Barbecue is located just off I-85 at the Linwood exit near Lexington. Which any Lexingtonian will tell you is the barbecue capital of the world. It is also the home of the world famous Lexington Barbecue Festival held in October, which draws thousands of people to the area.

Lexington is where I cut my teeth on barbecue, so to speak, when I was living in nearby Salisbury and through my girlfriend at the time, I was introduced to “The Monk”, which was the local name of the  world famous Lexington Barbecue restaurant, where I experienced my first “lean brown course chopped tray.” For aficionados, memory of their first real barbecue often ranks up there with memory of another first (if you know what I mean.)

One of the features of Lexington barbecue is that you can get the regular “chopped” meat or “course chopped.” Mentioning the word “pulled” is likely to have the same effect as the guy who used to say “Would you please pass the jelly?” on the telly.

Back Country Barbecue is in a non-descript building by the side of State 43. Like most good BBQ joints around here, interior decoration seems to have been an afterthought, but, as I always say, you don’t eat atmosphere, you only pay for it.

Like the rubes we were, we sat out front on the Formica®, while the locals opted for the cozy dining room with its red (painted) brick wall and faux mantel. There was also a counter, but it was crowded with papers, menus, spoon and fork dispensers and the like.

I ordered the course chopped sandwich and received a bun full of thumb-sized chunks which, though slightly dry, had excellent smoke and the bark(which is the reason you order course chopped) was immensely acceptable.

The hazard of ordering course chopped pork on a bun versus the tray mentioned earlier, is that the watery Piedmont sauce soaks through the bottom of the bun much faster than with the regular chop, giving it the consistency of mucilage. This is a feature which I had forgotten in the thirty years since I had eaten my last course chopped Q.  As I mentioned before, turning the bun over mitigates the issue to some degree, but alas, by the time I remembered this, it was too late.

An indication of the quality of the meat is perhaps reflected in the fact that I can usually count on eating one and a half sandwiches at these places because my wife seems never to be able to finish hers, but here I was out of luck. I looked up from my plate to see my wife wiping the last morsel from the corner of her mouth.

It’s tough in the BBQ business in these parts because the competition is fierce and the expectations are high. Backcountry Barbecue is in for the long haul.

Diner rating:

  

Pigging Out

High Marks. Hite's Barbecue occupies a small cinderblock building on a two lane road in West Columbia, SC. Note the smoke emanating from the rear of the building and the pickup, which obscures a large pile of wood by the back door.

The Caroliner Diner's Rules for Spotting a Good Barbecue Restaurant

It’s a shame to go to a ‘Q joint and plunk down good money for sorry meat. So how do you know if a BBQ place is good or not before having to pay nine or ten bucks for a plate? Below are some guidelines that have served me in the past. Think of your favorite place and see if it doesn't fit several of these criteria.

1) SMOKE. Al Gore be damned! There must be smoke, and to hell with the carbon footprint! Real barbecue is cooked with smoke, and the smoke has to come from good hardwood trees. You should see it, and smell it when you pull into the lot, or at least when you get out of the car.

2) WOOD. There should be a wood pile on the premises, and it should be used for cooking. Oak will pass, but Hickory is king. Mesquite will do in a rush if you’re out west. Other viable woods are apple and pecan, though these are scarce and expensive and usually only used to put a finish on the meat. Beware of “decorator wood” that is only for show where the pork is actually cooked on a gas flame.

3) FAT PEOPLE. Fat people love to eat and usually know good food when they taste it. If there are no fat people eating there, the food is probably only so-so. Beware of a restaurant filled with skinny people in exercise gear. Those people don’t know how to eat.

However fat people can’t be the sole indicator. They sometimes indicate food that is simply cheap.

4) PORTABLE COOKING RIG parked outside. Serious barbecue cookers love to compete with their fellows to see who can make the best barbecue at a given time and place. This is where their skill is honed to a high art and where they learn secrets from other cookers about how to improve their product.

5) TROPHIES. If you’re gonna compete, you better be able to win at least once in a while.

6) PIGS. Like the ancient Minoans who worshipped bulls and kept images of them around house, True BBQ aficionados keep porcine totems around them. The more pictures, statues and stuffed pigs in the dining room the better the restaurant. One of my favorites is a sign hanging on the wall at Henry’s Smoke House in Greenville, SC. Inside the outline of a pig, it says, “People Eat People’s Meat."

Nice Rack. Stacks of decorator wood outside Maurice's Piggy Park in Cayce, SC. The Barbecue is actually cooked next door.
7) COUNTRY MUSIC has to be playing on the speakers. Anyone who cooks pork in the presence of any other mode, except gospel or bluegrass has no sense of proportion.

8) PICKUP TRUCKS in the parking lot. A lot full of BMW’s indicates the pork is either too expensive or too artsy or both.

9) SAUCE ON THE SIDE, not on the meat. If they have to sauce the meat to make it palatable, there’s something wrong with it.

10) THE BUILDING. Don’t even slow down for one of those cookie cutter fancy brick and steel facades that look like they were built last year. Somebody has to pay for that building. Real barbecue cookers build the pit first and then as an afterthought put some kind of enclosure around it, perhaps getting the idea when they hear the first raindrops sizzle on the grill. Look for a simple wood or cinderblock building, preferably out in the country. The fewer lanes to the road that goes there the better. Extra points are given if it has a gravel parking lot, tables in the yard, or a porch to eat on. Barbecue is meant to be eaten outside where the smoke in the air enhances the smoke in the meat for a complete barbecue experience. Screens are optional.

11) THE MENU should have barbecue as the main, or only item. If the menu has the barbecue listed somewhere down there between the Fiesta Chicken and the Shrimp and Sausage Penne, It probably comes to the restaurant frozen in a tub or plastic bag.

12) A SINGLE ENTITY. Beware of chain restaurants. A man runnning a pit out in the country is free to live his dream. Chains come with a large beauracracy whose main job quickly becomes maintaining the status quo vs. making excellent food.