Go Ahead and Take the Plunge with these Two Bros

Two Bros. BBQ Market
12656 West Ave.
San Antonio, TX




Smoking brisket is like taking the plunge into marriage.

The choices you make upfront can lead to results that are very good.

Or…

…Very, very bad.

Without the right commitment to quality meat, good rub, ideal hard wood, a top notch smoker and lots and lots of patience and time, you are in for a final product devoid of spice, flavor or tenderness.

It will be nothing but an expensive exercise in wasted effort.

You’ll be looking to sign divorce papers as soon as you bite into a bad brisket that tastes like a dry, tasteless hunk of unchewable roast beef.
Don’t even think about walking down that aisle unless you commit to doing it right.

I’m happy to report that the bros at Two Bros BBQ Market on the north side of San Antonio know exactly how to do brisket right.

Any doubt is dispelled the moment you pull up into the parking lot and notice the smoke billowing up from the smoker out back.

You’ll know you made the right choice as soon as you open the front door and are greeted by the sweet aroma of cow fat being slowly melted by the embers of Texas post oak.

Two Bros is nothing like the scary dilapidated old brisket smoke shacks down around Lockhart like Smitty’s and Black’s.

This place has been around for only four years, an infantile newcomer to the century’s old art of smoking briskets in the Lone Star State.

Rustically located under some old live oak trees -- a few of which grow right up through the middle of the restaurant -- it’s still hard to camouflage the new construction feel of Two Bros BBQ Market.

But what it lacks in old school credentials, Two Bros more than makes up for with its real deal authentic Texas barbeque.

The pit master sliced off a couple thick swaths of brisket and a smoked sausage onto my butcher paper.

Unlike in Lockhart, plastic utensils are available at Two Bros -- but you won’t need them.

The hunks of beef fall apart at the mere touch of your fingers.

The thick dark crunchy bark on the edge of each slice ignites a combustion of salty flavor in every bite.

The soft tender inside of the slice offers a smoky succulent counterbalance to the bark.

Each bite of decadent fatty beef almost melts in your mouth like bovine butter.

Absolutely extraordinary!

It’s like giving a make-over to Kate Upton, but I couldn’t resist the urge to dip a few hunks of brisket into Two Bros warm homemade sauce.

The sauce is completely unnecessary -- yet completely delicious with a nice balance between spicy tang and tomatoey sweetness.

The sausage approached heights of perfection as well.

Taught and smoky, each bite offered a nice snap of greasy meaty flavor.

Well done, bros, well done.

Even the sides were top notch.

The mac and cheese was thick and goopy the way your grandma made it.

The beans were a kaleidoscope of flavor, balancing the savory goodness of bacon with the sweetness of Texas peaches. You won’t find anything like this in the canned goods aisle of your local grocery.

That’s for sure.

Since it was the middle of a Suit757 workday, a Shiner Bock to wash all this Texas barbeque down just wasn’t an option.

So I went with the Texas BBQ Plan B Beverage -- a can of Big Red -- the syrupy sweet red soda that leaves your tongue stained with artificial coloring for 24 hours.

Big Red is so bad it has never managed to spread much beyond the borders of the Lone Star State.

But as Texas songwriter Robert Earl Keen explained in his song “Barbeque”, “a cold Big Red” is considered obligatory when dining on Texas brisket and sausage.

Like marriage, picking a place in Texas to eat brisket takes something of a leap of faith.

Sure, I did my homework and read about Two Bros awards as one of the top BBQ shacks in Texas, but until you commit to lifting that first bite of beef off your butcher paper you can never really be totally sure what you are going to get.

That’s where Suit757 comes in.

Consider me to be your brisket marriage counselor.

If you in San Antonio -- heck, if you are ever within 100 miles of San Antonio -- do yourself a favor.

Make the commitment. Tie the knot. Take the plunge at Two Bros BBQ Market.

You’ll live happily ever after.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!

Damn Goode for Big City Barbeque

Goode Company Barbeque
5109 Kirby Dr.
Houston, TX



Houston is a big city. I mean, a really, REALLY BIG city.

It takes at least an hour to drive from one side to the other – without traffic. And there is ALWAYS traffic in Houston.

It’s so big, I once caught a flight from Houston Hobby Airport to…

…Houston.

Yep. Flew out of Hobby and landed at George Bush Intercontinental where I caught my connecting flight home.

Now THAT is big!

But that’s okay. Texans like big things.

And no matter how fast-paced and cosmopolitan of a city you find yourself within the borders of the Lone Star state, Texans always make sure to let you know you’re still in Texas.

That fact always comes to mind whenever I find myself at Goode Company Barbeque.

Authentic barbeque comes from smoky shacks on the sides of lonely bluebonnet emblazoned farm-to-highway two lane roads. Nestled in the Hill Country. Or in the center of barbeque crazed small towns like Driftwood, Elgin, Luling and Lockhart.

But part of what makes Texas such a great nation is that you can find it here too.

Smack dab in the urban hell of sprawling Houston.

This is Big City Barbeque.

If sitting in the horrendous traffic on Kirby Drive makes you forget you are in Texas, you’re reminded as soon as you park your car.

Emblazoned on the side of the barn-like barbeque shack is Goode Company’s mantra:

“You might give some serious thought to thanking your lucky stars you’re in Texas!”

You can also get that timeless bit of wisdom emblazoned on Goode’s T-shirts, coffee mugs and to go boxes of whole pecan pies.

The set-up is classic Texas.

The smell of meat slowly smoldering over mesquite. Guns, beer signs and other rustic décor inside. Beers iced down in an old fashioned tub.

And a long line of hungry customers slowly making their way toward the scary looking dudes with the meat and knives.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear you were in La Grange.

That is, except for all the dresses, suit skirts, ties and Cole Haan dress shoes in line with you.

A trio of indecisive suit-wearing high-rise office dwellers on their lunch break in line behind me tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if the jalapeño sausage was too spicy.

You know you’re in the big city when the locals turn to Suit757 – dressed in a suit – to ask for advice on what’s good here.

They’re asking me?

In reality, I’m always the best person to ask – I mean, that’s why I write this blog. I’m been everywhere, tried it all and lived to tell about it.

But I don’t get asked for advice by locals anywhere else I go.

More like stared at suspiciously.

I’m always subject of the ubiquitous, “You ain’t from around here are ya?”

The perpetual out-of-place out-of-towner. The object of the collective head swivel. The guy at Cheers whose name nobody knows. The suit at the pool party.

But here in the Big City, dressed in a suit, like everyone else, I actually -- dare I say -- fit in! I look like a local barbeque connoisseur.

Suit757, we’re not in Lockhart anymore.

“Naw, the jalapeño sausage isn’t too spicy. You’ll love it,” I confidently declared. “And don’t forget your pecan pie. It’s legendary!”

“Great. Thanks,” my fellow suit-wearer said.

After a brief pause, “This is our first time.”

I can’t tell you how hard it was to resist the urge to smugly reply, “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Well, you’ll love it”, I politely said instead, as I thrust my hand into the ice chest to retrieve my drink.

Frosty Shiner Bocks, Lone Stars and Coors Lights all looked tantalizing laying there snugly in their icy beds.

But alas, Suit757 was working today, like everyone else in line.

So I opted for what I thought was a good compromise – a St. Arnold’s beer.

Root. Beer.

Houston-based St. Arnold’s is my favorite microbrewery in all of Texas. Unlike most Texas brewers, St. Arnold’s isn’t afraid to make brews with real taste.

While a St. Arnold Root Beer can’t compare to an Elissa IPA, I liked the idea I was supporting the folks who do such a good job putting a smile on my face once my Suit757 workday is done.

By the time I toted my tray of Texas barbeque to a vacant end of one of Goode’s picnic tables, I only had ten minutes to enjoy my lunch before I had to snap back to reality and negotiate Houston traffic for my 2pm meeting.

But it was the best ten minutes of my day.

When in Texas, you get brisket.

Goode’s brisket was thin sliced and fall-apart tender. Like beef transfigured into butter. Delicious under a thin coating of Goode’s famous sweet tomato-based sauce.

That sauce also covered the jalapeño sausage which was sliced diagonally into big bite sized ovals of smoked meat.

It tasted great, but I was disappointed in the lack of spice. Either the cleaver guy gave me the wrong kind of sausage or my link just didn’t have much jalapeño.

Believe it or not, the spiciest item on my plate was the bread – jalapeño cheese bread impaled into the meat with a plastic spike. Soft Texas toast infused with bits of cheese and peppers, my jalapeño cheese bread was perfect for lapping up that extra sauce and grease.

But man can not live on bread and meat alone.

You can’t come to Goode’s without getting some of their famous over-the-top sides.

Like Texas jambalaya.

Houston shares a lot in common gastronomically with its neighbor to the east, Louisiana.

It’s not hard to find Cajun specialties like gumbo and jambalaya here in “The Bayou City”.

Goode’s Texas version of jambalaya is mostly rice with some peppers, onions and smoky ham mixed in. Trust me, you won’t find that on the menu in Lockhart.

You won’t find anything resembling Goode’s baked beans either.

These beans have no relation to any other you’ve ever tried. In fact, the beans are a mere afterthought compared to the peppers, onion, bacon and stewed apples that make up this incredible recipe.

The spice of the peppers, the savory smokiness of the bacon and the sweetness of the apples create a Mardi Gras of flavor in every bite. Absolutely delicious!

Like all traditional Lone Star State BBQ joints, dining at Goode’s is on long communal picnic tables outside in the Texas heat.

You sit shoulder to shoulder with your fellow diners and make small talk about how good the food is.

When I finally sat down to eat at 1:41pm I thought about how I didn’t have much time for conversation today.

At 1:45 a couple blue collar black guys joined me across the picnic table.

Fearing that my frantic chewing and gastrological grunts might be taken for rudeness, I explained that I had a 2pm meeting I had to get to.

“I don’t think you’re going to make it,” the older gentleman said.

“Well, being late isn’t an option. But leaving any of this great food behind isn’t an option either,” I said as I further accelerated my food shoveling.

I think they were impressed with the eating capacity of this white boy in a suit as we made conversion about baseball and the hapless Astros between chews and swallows.

Sure enough, at 1:50 on the button, I stuffed the last bite of sausage in my mouth, garbled my fellow BBQ eaters a good day and headed off to the rental car in the parking lot to race back into Houston traffic.

As I miraculously arrived at my meeting at exactly 2:00, popped a breath mint in my mouth and checked my teeth in the rear view mirror for jalapeño remnants, I thought to myself, “Suit757, you need to slow down and relax.”

Some day.

Some day I’ll be able to leisurely mingle under the Texas live oaks out in some wildflower-lined Lone Star countryside, food slowly digesting -- and even go back for seconds of that legendary pecan pie.

But not now. Not in Houston. Not with my Suit757 schedule.

As long as I’m still working to pay “the man”, Big City Barbeque will have to do.

Rating: Bought the Shirt! (Or at least I would have, if I had time)

Pig Out!

The Georgia Pig
2712 U.S. 17 South
Brunswick, GA





If I were ever to get around to compiling a Suit757 Top Ten List of Barbeque joints across America, The Georgia Pig would be on it.

Yeah. This place is THAT good.

The Georgia Pig is everything a great barbeque place should be.

It’s a muddy-parking-lot roadside shack under the towering Georgia pines. A dilapidated log cabin with a warped floorboard front porch.

Once you push in the creaky wooden door, you enter a haze of hickory smoke so thick you can barely see the assortment of Elvis posters and dancing pigs on the far wall.

The moment the perfume of slowly melting pig fat and hardwood meets your nostrils, your stomach will commence an impatient growl.

The chop, chop, chop of the pit master’s cleaver rendering the tender pig meat is the only soundtrack you will hear.

Yep. The Georgia Pig looks, smells and sounds like an old Southern BBQ shack right out of central casting. This place is THAT good.

Better yet, it tastes that good too.

The pork is smoked right there behind the sauce jar-laden counter. Generous hunks of tender pork are then chopped into bite sized pieces right before your eyes, placed on a fresh sesame seed bun and spritzed with a splash of that famous Georgia Pig sauce.

But wait a minute. You’re not ready yet.

Just when you think your growling stomach can’t stand another second of anticipation, your barbeque sandwich undergoes one more crucial step.

The pit master places the sandwich on a well worn “sandwich press” that warms it up a bit, flattens it to manageable thickness and toasts the bun. Both top and bottom toast to a perfect crisp that combined with the soft pork and runny sauce, produces one of this world’s (or the next) most exquisite culinary textures.

Warm toasty bun. Soft smoky meat. Sweet moist sauce.

Yeah. This place is THAT good.

The Georgia Pig sauce is a bit of a departure for this corner of the Southeast coastline. Most BBQ shacks in these parts serve a peppery version of a South Carolina mustard-based sauce.

But at The Georgia Pig, you get a sweet tomato based sauce. Not too thick. Just thin enough to permeate the pig meat.

It’s good stuff. I bought a jar of it on the way out, still warm from the vat they were brewing in the kitchen.

The baked beans are four star too, loaded with even more pork. (Beans always earn an extra star for meat, in Suit757’s book.)

Of course the most intriguing side dish is Brunswick’s namesake – Brunswick Stew.

When in Rome, you know?

Of course what if there was more than one Rome? Do as WHICH Romans do???

Brunswick, Georgia and Brunswick, Virginia have had centuries running dispute over which Brunswick originated the famous dish.

Suit757 hasn’t been around long enough to settle the argument.

However, I have to admit that Virginia has a more compelling story involving a group of politicians, a hunting expedition, a few unlucky rabbits and a creative-minded slave.

Interestingly, the Georgia Pig’s stew is closer to the Virginia version than most of the Georgia stews I’ve had.

Thinner than the mish mashed hash served at other Georgia BBQ shacks, the Pig’s version has a wide variety of vegetables to compliment the shredded pork. Lima beans, carrots, tomato, corn and peas, it was like vegetable soup with barbeque mixed in.

The only knock on The Georgia Pig I can see is the glum attitude of the staff.

Besides “The King” and some fiddling pigs, the rest of the décor consists of hand-scrawled signs barking orders to the customers about what not to do. No dogs, no sauce outside, no standing by the counter, no pictures (oops, as Rick Perry might say).

The cleaver guy is a bit surly. The lady at the cash register is all business – and a bit impatient with those pesky I-95 tourists who pass through her restaurant.

So, okay. This isn’t the Whistle Stop Café. If it is faux Southern hospitality you are after, try the Cracker Barrel up the road.

But if you can appreciate barbeque that breaks into Suit757’s all time Top Ten, you’ll feel right at home at The Georgia Pig.

Yeah. This place is THAT good.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!