Dallas Food - A Quick Trip to Llano

There’s nothing quick about a trip to Llano, Texas (pop. 3,300). Far off the major interstates, Llano isn’t “on the way” to anything but rolling hills, white-tailed deer, bluebonnets, buzzards, and barbecue--cowboy-style barbecue, cooked in steel pits directly over hot mesquite coals. As I crawled out of bed at 4:45 AM on Saturday morning, my wife informed me that “sensible people” sleep in on the weekends. “Sensible people” obviously haven’t been to Cooper’s. On to the food...

About five hours after I left Dallas, I was closing in on Llano on Highway 29. On the south side of the highway, about seven miles east of town, I noticed a couple of warmly dressed people huddled over a tripod-mounted scope. I immediately remembered a good friend’s blog entry about some nesting Bald Eagles around Llano. I scanned the trees, spotted the large nest, and turned the car around to pull over for a better look.

I pulled my scope from the trunk and trained it on the nest, getting occasional glimpses of the top of an adult eagle’s head, when another adult soared into view, settling onto a branch near the top of the tree and cooperatively posing for this amateur photographer. If you want prime views of our nation’s bird in the wild, take your binoculars and keep your eyes peeled. Watch the eagles, then proceed to town for the barbecue.

First up is Brothers Bar-B-Q, on the north side of Highway 29 (W. Young) in Llano.

I had read some very positive things about Brothers Bar-B-Q. Word was that this is where the Llano locals go. The guys at the BBQ Tours web page (which, though out of date, is still a pretty good resource) were very pleased with the cabrito, ribs, and pork steak.

The place looked abandoned when we pulled in for an early lunch. There were no cars in front and the pits looked cold. A closer look revealed that a small pit in the rear was smoking, so we headed inside to order. I told the waitress that, first of all, I wanted some of their cabrito. She informed me they no longer do cabrito, because the price of goat is too high. Disappointed, we settled for brisket, pork steak, and ribs. (I asked about another item that got high praise from the BBQ Tours group--corn nuggets--and was told that it too had been dropped.)

Though Brothers’ brisket had some smoke flavor, the meat was some of the toughest I’ve had the displeasure to chew in recent memory. Neither I nor my dining companion had any desire to eat more than a few bites of it. Sorry stuff.

The pork steak wasn’t much better. The cuts we got were dry, tasting more of salt than pork. Here, too, we left more than we ate.

The ribs weren’t quite as bad as the brisket and pork steak, but they would still be below average in almost any Texas market. The exterior was gummy, rather than crisp. The meat crossed the acceptable limit of firmness. Pork and smoke flavor were both weak.

By the time we left Llano, there appeared to be a few trucks in front of Brothers. Perhaps they had better luck than we did. But the limited meat selection, poor flavor, and uniform dryness (as if reheated) of the meats we sampled there made it among the worst Central Texas barbecue joints to which I’ve been.

Next up was Laird’s Bar-B-Q, on S. Ford St.

Laird’s, opened twenty years ago by a Cooper’s alumnus, was another place said to be favored by locals. As with Brothers, the parking lot was empty.

Getting out of the car, I saw a sign on the door by way of explanation. Of all the days I could have chosen to go to Llano, it had to be one on which one of the target joints was closed.

While we were there, we walked around back to have a look at the steel pits. I would have loved to see them in action, but it wasn’t to be. Maybe next time.

Next came Inman’s Kitchen, on the north side of Highway 29 (W. Young).

I was really anticipating this visit to Inman’s Kitchen after sampling the excellent brisket and turkey sausage at Inman Ranch House during a recent trip to Marble Falls, though the ownership and operation of the two joints has been completely separate for decades. Inman’s Kitchen dwarfs its long lost sister in Marble Falls, both in its size and scope of menu. We ordered a half pound of brisket and a quarter pound each of regular turkey sausage and jalapeno-Swiss turkey sausage.

Inman’s brisket had good smokiness and flavor, but a dry and chewy texture. Something this dry would usually get low sandwich grade marks, at best. But, in this case, the smokiness and flavor were good enough that it really would make a fine sandwich, with a little sauce.

When I bit into the turkey sausage, I thought I knew what I was going to get--namely, the same coarse grind and lean, peppery meat I had at the Ranch House in Marble Falls. Not so. In addition to a finer grind and gentler seasoning, this sausage was nearly as fatty as a pork sausage, leading me to believe it’s a blend of turkey and pork. I remember the woman in Marble Falls mentioning that the Ranch House still used the same recipe they started with after the war (i.e., all turkey meat), contrasting their approach with Inman’s Kitchen which had made modifications and new versions. The “take it or leave it” attitude at the Ranch House appealed to me, at the time. And, having tried both versions, I have to say that the Ranch House sausage also appeals to me more than that of Inman’s Kitchen in Llano. This wasn’t a bad sausage. But it wasn’t as distinctive as one might expect.

The jalapeno-Swiss turkey sausage came in wide slices, rather than links halved lengthwise. Like the regular turkey sausage, it had a high fat content, suggesting a pork addition. (The greasiness is still visible in the photo, despite the fact that I patted down the slices with paper towels to cut down on the glare.) The flavoring imparted by both chiles and cheese was understated, but still discernible over the low smokiness. Because of the additional flavor components, this was a slightly more interesting sausage than their regular version.

Notwithstanding the pretty good brisket and interesting sausages, I will not return to Inman’s Kitchen. Our total tab for a half pound of brisket and a half pound of sausage was twenty dollars. At first, we thought the cashier might have made an error in computation. When asked about it, she defensively insisted that the price was correct. Whether (a) we were deliberately gouged or (b) they really do charge $20/lb for their meats, my reaction is the same: I won’t be back.

Our last stop (and primary destination) was Cooper’s Old Time Pit Bar-B-Que, on the south side of Highway 29 (W. Young).

Cooper’s is one of the most famous barbecue temples in Texas. In recent years, their prominence has grown because they’re said to be George W. Bush’s favorite joint. The higher profile has brought in bigger crowds. And several reliable barbecue lovers have related negative experiences there in recent years, suggesting that the increased popularity has led Cooper’s to cut corners. Has Cooper’s fallen?

Wandering around to the east side of the building, we saw two large steel tanks filled with flame and glowering coals. Using mesquite coals helps control the undesirable quantity and character of the smoke that would be produced by simply burning the wood. The coals alone suffice to endow meats with a uniquely flavorful smokiness.

Once the coals are produced, they’re transferred to one of many long, steel pits under a metal awning. As you can see, the mesquite coals are far from smokeless. A breeze outside and the constant operation of large overhead fans did nothing to eliminate the perpetual cloud of smoke billowing out of the pits.

Closer to the building, we watched a cook efficiently applying dry rub to one rack of ribs after another. (That’s pork loin in the foreground.)

The high, direct heat from mesquite coals turns the raw, dry-rubbed slabs into beautiful barbecue in less than two hours. (Brisket takes closer to eight.) Many Texas joints do it lower and slower. But, as Robb Walsh has documented, the famous pit at the former Kreuz Market (now Smitty’s) often operates at a much higher temperature than many might suppose. When the ends are great, you can’t sweat the means.

After the meats are finished, they’re brought to the pit nearest the entrance for holding (also pictured at the top of this article). Customers line up outside, approach the pit, and choose their meats. The knife-man seemed willing to accommodate all requests. If we wanted brisket off the fatty side, we got it. If we wanted the gorgeously crusted end off a fresh pork loin, we got it.

Cooper’s sticks a finger in the eye of those who would stereotype Texas barbecue as being all, or primarily, about brisket. Yes, brisket was available on the day we visited. But so were sausage, pork spare ribs, beef ribs, pork loin, chicken, double-cut pork chops, ham, cabrito, prime rib, and sirloin (the latter two pictured above). If anyone knows of a barbecue joint outside of Texas with a more diverse line-up of meats than this, please give me the name and address.

So, back to the holding pit. You tell the knife-man what you want. He carves it off, asking if you want sauce on it. If you say no, he slides it off the meat-fork tines onto a red plastic tray. If you say yes, he gives it a quick baptism in a big steel stockpot at the end of the pit, then tosses it onto the tray. When you’ve completed your selections, you carry the tray inside, where the meats are weighed and your wallet is lightened. Some typical sides are available. And at the end of the dining room rest two large pots. One contains complimentary pinto beans (heavily seasoned with garlic and jalapeno). The other holds barbecue sauce. I usually don’t discuss sauces, but Cooper’s warrants a mention. The thin, vinegary sauce gets a hefty infusion of meat drippings. The first sign of that uncommon addition is the oil slick sheen across the top of the pot. After dipping your finger in, the watery sauce quickly drips back into the cup, but leaves a slippery residue on the digit. And when you pour a little over the meat, you can clearly detect the flavor boost. Despite the interesting, tasty sauce, we ate the bulk of the meats dry.

The beef rib, pictured above, had a firm, tightly grained texture, but was neither tough nor dry. A very tasty hunk of meat. My pictures of the brisket didn’t turn out because the steam rising from the meat fogged the lens. But the moist, tender slices had a good crust and incredibly intense flavor. Definitely “eating brisket,” though with a distinct character from what one finds in the post oak shrines east of Austin.

The pork loin, pictured above, was as good as I’ve ever had. Juicy, fork tender, with great internal flavor and a perfect salty-sweet crust. Barbecue doesn’t get much better than this. However, the spare ribs (photos of which were also ruined by the steam-obstructed lens) were sub-par. The meat was soft, almost to the point of mushiness. There was no bark to speak of. And the ones we got were way too fatty. The pork ribs were the only misstep we experienced.

When we first ordered, they didn’t have sirloin or cabrito ready. After finishing the first round of meats, we got back in line to try both. We took about a half pound of sirloin off a remainder end. (The whole sirloins are approximately two pounds.) Though the meat wasn’t quite as moist as I would have liked, it remained tender and packed a ton of flavor. For some reason, the expression “melts in your mouth” has become a cliché in barbecue reviews. Not only is it used often, but it’s almost always applied inaccurately. (More than once, I’ve had brisket that some food writer has said “melts in your mouth.” It usually proves to be about as susceptible to melting under the action of human saliva as a Goodyear retread.) But I have trouble avoiding the expression in describing the luscious rim of fat encircling the sirloin. Upon hitting the tongue, it almost instantly dissolved into a rich, salty sweetness, with no chewing required. When I return, the idea of getting a whole sirloin will be hard to resist. At just under $10 a pound, this is a great value for steak.

When I told the knife-man I wanted a half pound of cabrito, he picked up a rack of ribs and asked if that would do. I asked if ribs were their only cut. He said, “I’ll show you,” reaching to the side of the pit and grabbing a foil bundle. As he tore it open, out tumbled various subprimals: shoulder, foreshank, and leg. I picked a cut, took it inside, and went to work. The photo says it all. This cabrito was very tender and moist. The meat was mildly, agreeably flavored, boosted with good smoke penetration and the tasty dry rub. A very nice bit of barbecue.

Apart from the spare ribs, everything we sampled at Cooper’s ranged from very good to sublime. This was serious barbecue, competitive with the best I’ve had in Texas. If Cooper’s has slipped in recent years, what I wouldn’t give for a time machine!

Summary of Results: On this day, Cooper’s lived up to its reputation as one of the best in the State, with excellent quality across a wide range of meats. Inman’s Kitchen, though good, wasn’t in the same league at Cooper’s (or Inman’s Ranch House in Marble Falls, for that matter). Brothers’ performance would be weak in any Texas town. Perhaps my next visit to Llano will give me the chance to try Laird’s.