BBQ & Pickles

As regular readers know, I hail from South, and I'm here to tell you that the great Republic of Texas is not, properly speaking, part of the South. But Southerners and Texans do share some things in common: we all say ya'll, we know how to use "ma'am" and "sir" and we eat barbeque.

On Saturday night, Willy the Quince Wrangler, his lady friend Jennifer, my fellow Southerner Craig and I went down to Bludso's in Compton to try for ourselves the BBQ joint widely regarded as the best in our sprawling metropolis. Bludso's motto is "A Lil Taste of Texas."

It's more like a big taste of Texas. The four of us shared a single order called The Texas Sampler—several pounds of beef brisket and ribs, mixed sausages and chicken, all for $25. It was good, greasy fun, ya'll. Even if it wasn't South Carolina barbeque.

In South Carolina, where I spent my formative years, barbeque is the coronation of King Pig. What you do is get a whole pig, dressed and split into sides, then roast him skin-side down over woodcoals all night. The menfolk play cards and drink whiskey while they tend to his wants, and then around noon the next day, everybody else rolls in for what's called a Pig Pickin'. It's my favorite way to eat: you assemble yourself around King Pig in an orderly fashion and reach over the fire to pull off a chunk of pork, drag it through a thin, piquant sauce and lift it dripping to your mouth. With admirable literalness, we call such a feast "pulled pork." My advice it is to not wear a necktie or a fine blouse to a Pig Pickin'.

Down in Texas cow-country, they slather slabs of beef in a complex sweet-sour tomato sauce and cook it in a smoker until the exterior is charred and sticky It's a good way to eat, but to my mind such barbeque calls for something tangy to cut through the sweety-fat flavors.

That's why Saturday night I took a half-gallon jar of my homemade pickled pimientos de Padrón to the Bludso's tasting. (Pimientos de Padrón! Algunas pican—y otras non!) The fresh peppers came from Windrose Farm, and I put them up last September when I started craving the taste of the pickled Chileno peppers I used to eat when I was working on a ranch near Bishop, California. Chilenos, brought to the region by South American sheep herders, are still grown and preserved in the Owens Valley, and they are rightly famous as a High Desert delicacy. Their fiery secret is a pickling brine bravely flavored with garlic and oregano. My version, made with Spanish peppers, would remind you of feisty pepperonici. I know that all sounds like a UN conference in a jar, but the pickled peppers got along dandy with Bludso's fare. I'll dig out the recipe for you some time.

Willy upped the ante by opening a jar of pickled turnips. But what really caught my eye was a quart of his salt-preserved lemons on the counter. I intend to make me some soon. Check back for details.

Meanwhile, get yourself down to Bludso's with a pint of pickled peppers, and be sure to ask for extra napkins.

All hands on deck: the proper way to eat BBQ.

Comments

[Acai Berry]

Wonderful post... Very informational and educational as usual!

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