Thank You, Houston, You Were Delicious

Let me start by saying this: I love barbecue. And barbeque. And BBQ. Anyway you spell it, I like it. I don't know that I've had barbecue that I didn't like. But I usually refrain from initiating discussions about barbecue. Many, many people have strong feelings on the topic--the definition, the process, what is "authentic," what is "best," with subtopics of type of meat, cut of meat, preparation of meat, seasoning of meat, heat source, length of cooking, type of sauce, when to sauce, sauce or no sauce, etc. I'm not saying they aren't valid and valuable discussions, I'm just saying I'd rather eat.

While staying in downtown Houston over the weekend, I was presented with the challenge of where to eat lunch on a Saturday. The hotel in which I was staying did not serve lunch in their restaurant (although room service was available). I was honestly surprised that so many restaurants in the immediate area were closed for lunch. I went to the concierge.

The hotel was rather hip and swank, so I was not surprised to find a young man barely over the legal drinking age behind the concierge desk. I was surprised that he had to wrack his brain to come up with lunch options.

"All of the steak houses are closed for lunch," he reported, obviously scanning his memory of recommendations he was trained to be expected to give to the upscale clientele of the hotel. I threw him a bone.

"Where do you like to eat around here," I asked. "If you went out of town for a while, what would you miss eating here in Houston?"

A slow mile spread across his face, and he looked around sheepishly, almost embarrassed to say in front of another hotel employee. I raised my eyebrows expectantly and leaned forward to encourage him. His answer was just above a whisper.

"Pappas Bar-B-Q." His smile was almost devilish.

"Perfect," I replied. "How do I get there?"

He grabbed the keys to the hotel shuttle. "It's not far," he replied, still looking around to see if anyone was listening. "I'll take you there."

I walked in and couldn't help but smile. This was exactly what I was looking for. The menu, posted on the wall, boasted a variety of meats: beef, chopped beef, pork, pork loin, spicy pork, chopped pork, half a chicken, assorted chicken parts, pork ribs, beef ribs, turkey, ham, sausage--I swooned. "Vegetable sides" included spicy rice, potato salad, lima beans, ranch beans, yams, coleslaw, macaroni salad, and cucumber salad. Everything was served with a thick slice of white bread (have you heard of Texas Toast? Yes, everything IS bigger in Texas). The "regular" soda was about 32 ounces.

I had to try several things, so I got a sampling of the beef brisket, pork loin, and pork spare ribs (my favorite), with extra sauce on the side. The sauce was tomato based, heavy on the molassas, generously seasoned with cloves. Just past the cash register was a cold bar stocked with sliced onions, diced onions, pickles, jalepenos and other peppers, sliced tomatoes, salsa, hot sauce and other Texas acoutrements.

I won't try to explain the flavors of the meat, or the textures, or even share too much of my opinion of the barbecue. I'll just say that I sure did enjoy it, and that it was exactly what I wanted for lunch that day.

Sometimes the best meals are like that--not planned, not expensive, not Frank Bruni's favorite four star restaurant. Sometimes the best meals are the ones that are time and place specific, that do not translate to ratings scales or when taken out of context. Sometimes the best meals are like a clandestine tryst: the memories are not meant to be shared, but savored, privately, in anticipation of the next rendezvous.

So thank you, Houston. You were delicious. Until we meat again....