Complaint: The delicious brisket was sliced too thin.
As a general rule, the barbecue biz is pretty low-tech, but we noticed that owner Robert Thompson and his wife, Linda, both wore wireless telephone headsets. Perhaps this be-prepared attitude is the secret to Thompson’s success. He insists that pecan is the correct wood and that twelve hours is the correct smoking time. Tender brisket and pork shoulder bore out his theories, although the meat could have done with a lot less salt in the rub. PS
Rating: 4.
1210 E. Loop 304, 936-544-5193. Open Tue–Thur 11–8, Fri & Sat 11–9. Closed Sun & Mon.
Notable decor: Hundreds of dollar bills from customers cover the walls.
The secret? “Love,” says 62-year-old Louis McMillan, the owner of this six-table outpost in this tiny town, just west of Victoria. Corny, sure, but that love—along with sixteen-plus hours over an oak-pecan-mesquite mix—turns out moist, tender brisket and fat little baby back ribs that are nicely charred on the outside and pink on the inside. SH
Rating: 4.
9913 U.S. 59, 361-645-2326. Open Sun—Thur 10—6, Fri & Sat 10—7:30.
Complaint: The giant pit is fenced off and cannot be admired.
The brisket fell into delectable shards while remaining moist, even after an alarming twenty to thirty hours in the smoker. We missed the ribs, but the porcine portion of the barbecue family was well represented by two kinds of sausage, plain and spicy. Darn-good sides rounded out the offerings. The thick, sweet, tomato-tart sauce had bite. A few branding irons carry out the squeaky-clean dining room’s cowboy theme. PS
Rating: 4.25.
855 W. Comal (Texas Hwy. 140), 830-334-8000. Open Sun—Thur 8:30—8:30, Fri & Sat 8:30—9:30.
Remarkable employee: Marty, the cowboy-hat-wearing grandma waitress.
The combination of the frequently awesome mesquite-smoked meats and a terrific vibe have attracted barbecue hounds from far and wide for more than a quarter century. Inside, you’ll find old-timey claw-foot tables and a relaxed attitude about housekeeping, which is to say the place hasn’t seen a mop in ages. PS
Rating: 4.
2648 I-37 (exit 65), 361-786-3995. Open 7 days 7–7.
Menu surprise: All-you-can-eat seven-meat buffet.
This tidy buffet-style cafeteria disguised as a Western saloon does nearly all its meats well. Brisket, after sixteen hours over oak, was tender-firm. St. Louis pork ribs were sweet (a little too sweet), Cajun chicken blackened and juicy. The made-from-scratch sides (gloppy mac and cheese, savory greens, and solid versions of the Big Three) change regularly, but the carrot soufflé is always available. Dull sauce. JM
Rating: 4.
145 I-10 N, 409-832-7770. Open Mon—Sat 11—9, Sun 11—8
Don’t bother going in the front door. You’ll end up in the parking lot behind the boxy brick building anyway, doing the Smitty’s shuffle: At peak hours, the lines invariably stretch out the back door. Patiently, you inch your way forward, passing the waist-high brick pits and perusing the list of post oak–smoked meats (brisket, pork ribs and chops, shoulder clod, sausage, prime rib).
Salivating, you finally place your order for a pound or so of meat (in this ancient hall there are no platters or sandwiches). You pay with cash or check (here there is no debit or credit). You proceed to the high-ceilinged dining room, staring at the meats on your butcher paper (here there are no plates). Yet again you are made to stand in line, to order sides and drinks. At last, faint from hunger, you squeeze in at one of the long communal tables and tear into some of the finest barbecue in Texas.
Smitty’s began around 1900 as Kreuz Market, a German butcher shop that sold fresh meat during the week and smoked whatever was left over on the weekend. The Kreuz name endured even after Edgar “Smitty” Schmidt bought the business, in 1948. It was still in use in 1999, when a dust-up among the late Edgar’s three children caused his son Rick to take the Kreuz name to a new building down the road (see page 126). Fortunately, daughter Nina Schmidt Sells and her son, John Fullilove, kept the fires burning and reopened under the current name. They made a few concessions to modernity, such as repainting the dining room and offering sauce (you have to ask for it). Other than that, the place is still the proud bulwark of tradition it has always been. May it never change. Patricia Sharpe
Rating: 5.
208 S. Commerce, 512-398-9344. Open Mon–Fri 7–6, Sat 7–6:30, Sun 9–3.
The old Kreuz Market was like a one-room chapel. The humble brick building off the courthouse square in Lockhart had turned out divine smoked meat since 1900. But just as churchgoers nowadays worship in larger halls, so too does the visitor to the new Kreuz Market, which opened in 1999 in a gigantic building at the edge of town. (The old building now houses Smitty’s.)
Kreuz (pronounced “Krites”) does 45 percent of its business on Saturday. The rest of the week it feels like some kind of meat monastery. You enter, footsteps ringing out in the vast, vacant space, and head down a long hall to the pit room, over which a thin haze of smoke perpetually hangs. Roy Perez, the pitmaster, who has not taken a day of vacation in 21 years, is likely to be tending the fires. The counterwomen are friendly, but solemnity pervades the transaction. The atmosphere is not convivial—you sit alone in a room, capacity 560, bent quietly over an array of absolutely beautiful meat, with no fork, sauce, or plate to disrupt the communion.
“We do things the hard way,” explained owner Rick Schmidt, who samples his fare at least once a day, usually for breakfast. “We don’t use these auto pits, where you load some sticks in, set your thermometer, and come back in eight or nine hours. What we do takes attention. You’re constantly working the fire, and you need to know how the meat’s supposed to look and smell and sizzle. It’s all feel and sight. We don’t even have a thermometer.”
The product is simple and potent. The brisket’s so smoky you can imagine the tree. Swoon-inducing pork ribs are encrusted with huge chunks of black pepper. The pork chop is submissive and the jalapeño-cheese sausage addictive. A pleasant surprise is the sauerkraut, which goes so well with brisket it ought to be more of a barbecue standby. My only complaint was with the regular sausage, the filling of which was ground so fine it slid out of the casing without much encouragement.
What sets Kreuz Market apart is its maniacal devotion to tradition. Noting the rise in the use of commercial smokers in Texas barbecue, Schmidt told me, “I call those things ‘no-brainer pits.’ What they do is give you consistent mediocrity. It’s easier. But as long as we can find people that want to learn, we’ll keep our way going.” Jake Silverstein
Be advised: Several years ago a man was arrested after breaking into Buzzie’s at four in the morning to fix himself a chopped-beef sandwich.
This clean, bright establishment in downtown Kerrville didn’t look seasoned enough to produce a brisket that had much character. But from the first bite, we felt humbled to be in its presence. The meat was juicy and packed with oak flavor, and its marbled edges were as soft as warm butter. The homemade sides—including chunky mustard potato salad and crisp coleslaw laced with red cabbage—only enhanced the experience. PC
Rating: 4.5.
213 Schreiner, 830-257-4540. Open Tue—Sat 11—8, Sun 11—3. Closed Mon.
Menu surprise: Extremely hot hot links. Seriously.
There’s always a line at this clapboard take-out shack. Plump, pink pork ribs, cooked over post oak in a steel pit for two and a half hours, were irresistible. Smoky brisket was fall-apart tender. Commercially made beef-and-pork links tasted decidedly uncommercial. The sauce was tangy, good for dipping ribs and links. The sole sides were mustardy potato salad and saucy beans, both made with care. JM
Rating: 4.75.
8307 DePriest, 281-445-7574. Open Wed—Sat 10:30— 7:30. Closed Sun—Tue.
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