In Search of the Illusive Q Tater

Stationed at the entrance to the Pisgah National Forest in Brevard, NC, amid the bars, ice cream parlors and tube rental kiosks is Hawg Wild Barbecue. It has become a place near and dear to my heart, and one of the three restaurants we regularly visit on our frequent trips to the mountain city.

North Carolina is a big state, and like SC, there are different barbecue traditions for different sections. Hawg Wild Barbecue offers a choice between the vinegary Eastern sauce and the more tomato-ey Western version.  

As special as is the BBQ on a bun, the thing that brings me back is a rare delicacy that is becoming hard to find: The Barbecue Potato.

The barbecue potato is hard to find and hard to beat

 The barbecue potato or "Q tater," as I call it, is a large baked potato piled high with succulent pulled pork barbecue topped with sauce, shredded cheese and sour cream. It is my version of barbecue heaven: a combination of flavors and textures that will please any Q connoisseur.

The décor is Q-joint chic with license plates from around the country nailed to the board walls, and tables topped with glass plate under which is a map of the area, and where customers have jammed their business cards. A big effigy of that great glutton of the ether waves, Homer Simpson sporting a HW T-shirt dominates the lobby.

We like the place so much that when our daughter graduated from Brevard College, and inclement weather dampened our plans for a Pisgah picnic. We knew it was the place to have the celebration. My brother-in-law, who hails from the Lexington NC area was not pleased that the Q was pulled, not chopped as it is around his place, but other than that, all went well.


The Q, the atmosphere and the location make this place a good bet for travelers and locals alike.

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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.

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