Truth BBQ - Houston, TX

Everyone has a pandemic vice, and not all of them are bad. Covid has created many a sommelier, I'm sure, and for others it's a healthy new hobby like hiking or an anxiety-alleviator like gardening or crochet. 

My vice is a map of mail-order barbecue from legends such as Snow's and staples such as Truth. 

We get a bit of a sampler, and as usual, start with some Sausage. This casing has a real snap to it, the most pop of any I've had. That meat is juice-dripping so revel in those rivulets of liquid pork. Goes good with some of their semi-sweet Stay Gold Mustard. 

Racking up some points are the Truth Ribs, tender outside and crimson within. Strong smoke, though they do have to be torn off the bone with very little force. I dig this rib rub, but smearing a little of the OG BBQ Sauce on top will do. It's a thin sweet-water, and it gives that black pepper seasoning a little lift. 

The White Lightnin' sauce is as it sounds; about as thick as it can get without becoming a solid, a ranch dressing where mayo subs for milk. Smear on just about anything for a rich hit of something smooth to balance out the smoke and salt. Pro tip: Spread some on a chicken biscuit-sandwich and the result is electric. 

Alright, I already like Truth, but my truth lies in the Brisket. A hard-packed pec of hulky heifer, a notoriously difficult cut, a challenge-accepted by the star pitmasters of the Lone Star State. Meat melts on the tongue under a gooey girdle of fusing fat as smoke permeates the palate.

Truth be told, I still prefer Snow's, but I don't know if I could easily pick a favorite if I compared them side by side. Almost alike yet each with its own distinct and spectacular style. Same-same but oh-so different.

Snow’s BBQ - Lexington, TX

I’m from North Carolina, come on and raise up, and I can tell you firsthand that the barbecue feud with Texas is fierce. Houses divide, families flail, and friendships are forsaken all in the battle between whole hog with sauce vs smoke n’ salt.

It may be sacrelig for someone like me to be praising Texas, but kick me out of Carolina if you must because Snow’s is a national treasure.

I can’t travel to Lexington anytime soon, but even covid don’t mess with Texas. Come hell or high water (or a deadly virus threatening to kill us all), Snow’s still finds a way to overnight ship their smoky magic. The shipping fee is only fifty, and the rate is flat so get all you can. It all comes vacuum-packed so it’s good for 6 months in a freezer.

We started with their Original Sausage, biting into a casing both thin and crisp. There’s an audible pop as your teeth break through, and the ground filling is savory and moist. The meaty bits are myriad and you can see the different colors and textures throughout. It’s made with a shovel-sized scoop of black pepper which adds some attitude, sassy as a southern drawl.

The Brisket is the main event - it’s what made them a legend. To quote a Netflix critic, “something magic happens inside that aluminum foil.” Cut yourself a slice and you’ll see that the smoke makes perfect oval ring, encircling all the marbled morsels of lattice-work fat.

Their brisket may be legend, the Ribs steal the show. The smoke is so thorough, that the inside is ruby-red smoked all the way through. The meat doesn't just fall off the bones, it slides right off like silk. And the meat is so flavorful it doesn’t even need a sauce. 

I’ve defended my beloved Carolina barbecue more than I care to count, but I will always bow to Snow’s. They’re declared the best in Texas, but I wonder if their ribs are the best in the world.