Where's the absolute best hot dog in Chicago? The most delicious burrito in San Francisco? Welcome to Best in Town, where we call on a local expert to share the absolute best versions of their city's most iconic food. Kayla Stewart grew up in Southwest Houston and has been eating barbecue since she was 4 years old.
Photographs by Brittany Conerly.
Barbecue is more than a cooking method or a really good plate of charred meats in the Lone Star state—it’s serious business. The menu at most joints adheres to the tenets of the Central Texas style: a holy “Texas Trinity” of pork ribs, sausage, and salt-and-pepper-rubbed beef brisket, slow-cooked over a pit of charcoal or wood (usually some mix of oak, mesquite, hickory, and pecan). But in Houston, pitmasters are building on tradition. As opposed to honing in on just one barbecue method, the best pitmasters in this city treat it as a canvas for experimentation, reflecting the many cultural influences that make this one of America’s great food cities.
Here, cumin, ginger, and marjoram are used in seasoning rubs. Sausage—stuffed with gooey cheese—is served in tacos cloaked with aromatic salsas. Smoked turkey is nestled into bahn mi and brisket works its way into chow fun. Chefs here have carved out a barbecue landscape specific to the Bayou City and its diverse population.
It’s a relatively new phenomenon in the city. I grew up with chains like Luther's Bar-B-Q, Pappas Bar-B-Q, and Goode Company, all of which offered conventional takes on ribs and classic sides like macaroni and cheese and coleslaw. The newer influences started showing up in the early ‘aughts as part of a larger sea change within the industry. Despite the globe-spanning origins of live-fire cooking, and substantial contributions from African American pitmasters and chefs during and after enslavement, for decades the American barbecue business and accompanying media coverage have been dominated by white men. That’s no longer the case.
Barbecue fans have been highly receptive to the expansion of options, eager to try fresh takes on the food we cherish. No matter our varying backgrounds, we all grew up with these wide-ranging flavors; the intermingling of our myriad cultures and experiences is just part of life here.
Whether focused on fundamental techniques or experimenting with revelatory approaches, these eight restaurants represent the best—and most exciting—of Houston barbecue tradition.
Blood Bros. BBQ
Blood Bros. was one of the first restaurants in the country to fuse Texas barbecue with a range of Asian flavors when it started as a roving pop-up in 2013. That approach is exemplified by dishes like Thai green curry boudin and gochujang beef belly burnt ends. Brothers Robin and Terry Wong and their childhood friend Quy Hoang pack their offerings with garlic, lemongrass, and fish sauce—flavors that nod to the Vietnamese communities in Alief, the Houston neighborhood where they grew up. The smoked turkey banh mi and the brisket chow fun with bean sprouts and Chinese broccoli are crowd favorites. For a classic side, the white macaroni and cheese is ideal: a creamy, peppery blend of smoked gouda and pepper jack cheese. You’ll also find dishes like meat-filled tortas and crispy Sloppy Jack tacos filled with ground brisket, inspired by Tex-Mex cooking.
The genre-expanding impact of Blood Bros. is visible throughout Texas. The Texas-Japanese barbecue of Kemuri Tatsu-Ya in Austin, the Asian smokehouse Loro in Dallas, and the Viet-Tex Khói Barbecue pop-up in Houston all feel like clear byproducts of Blood Bros.’ work to make barbecue more representative of the pitmasters who are carrying the craft forward. The inviting Bellaire space is open five days a week, from 11 a.m. until it sells out, so plan accordingly.
Order: On Fridays, try the peach-habanero-bourbon-glazed pork belly burnt ends. The Houston 34 BBQ sauce, punctuated with zippy ginger, is a great souvenir to take home for your own grilling.
The Pit Room
The team at The Pit Room makes nearly everything in-house at this Montrose staple, which owner Michael Sambrooks opened in 2016. Flavors and cooking techniques of Texas and Mexico marry beautifully in dishes like chopped brisket tacos—drizzled with salsa roja and served on tortillas freshly griddled in rendered brisket fat—and hearty charro beans. A suite of sausages are also standouts. Try the beefy, mustardy Czech-style number, or the pork links stuffed with jalapeño and cheddar. Breakfast options, like decadent pulled pork hash and egg tacos, merit a dedicated morning trip. This barbecue is so good that Texas Monthly barbecue editor Daniel Vaughn ate here twice in one day. Be prepared to wait; even on weekdays, there’s a crowd.
Order: For lunch and dinner, I’m especially fond of the hefty beef sausages, which have a nice, soft chew. The elote is exceptional as are the charro beans. Grab some chips, too. You can get complimentary salsa with jalapeno-vinegar potato chips, or chicharrones with hot sauce—homemade, of course.
Tejas Chocolate + BBQ
What Scott Moore and partner Michelle Holland conceived of as a small but mighty chocolate shop in 2011 has morphed into one of the city’s most impressive barbecue hubs. With the help of Scott’s brother, Greg, Tejas opened the barbecue wing to its beloved chocolate shop in 2015, and, while the menus don’t intersect, the two operations share many adoring fans. Tejas slow-cooks their meat over a stick burner—a pit utilizing wood logs as the sole source of fuel.
The brisket is tender, nearly melting upon the first bite. It’s peppery on the edges with a smooth, tender, and smoky interior. The Brisket & Blues sandwich takes full advantage of that excellent meat, layering the smoky beef with juicy tomatoes, crisp red onions, and blue cheese on a potato bun. Snag a spot at one of the picnic tables outside, then tack on some pork ribs glazed in a sharp and sweet sauce. Finish the meal off with a carrot soufflé—a simple, delightfully fluffy chaser to the richness of ribs and sausage links.
Order: The Brisket & Blues sandwich, and of course, some chocolate. The truffles, studded in pecans, are particularly good.
Gatlin’s BBQ
3510 Ella Blvd., Bldg. C, Ste. A, Houston
Gatlin’s decadent barbecue and craveably sweet, balanced sauces were a welcome addition to Houston’s barbecue scene in 2010 when Mary and Henry Gatlin opened the barbecue spot in Houston Heights. Since then, their son, the pitmaster Greg Gatlin, has become a barbecue jack-of-all-trades. He applies his expertise to everything from baby back ribs to homemade spicy sausage at the restaurant’s Oak Forest location, where the family relocated in 2015. Hickory smoke lends a punchy aroma and rich bacon-like taste to everything on the menu, whether that’s chopped meat sandwiches on buttery Texas toast or chicken wings smoked for three and a half hours, fried, then slathered in a Thai chili or raspberry-habanero sauce.
You’ll find menu items inspired by other parts of the South, too, like vinegar-sauced options that mirror the East Texas barbecue tradition. St. Louis-style ‘cue, including ribs smothered in a sweet, tangy sauce, is also featured on this menu. Gatlin’s boldly aromatic Cajun-style dirty rice, made from Mary’s recipe, is great on its own, but also finds its way into Gatlin’s Kitchen Sink Sandwich: a mammoth creation that Greg piles with onions, jalapeños, sliced brisket, and sausage. The collard greens are also impressive; unlike many peers, Gatlin is careful to not overly soak the well-seasoned greens, allowing them to retain a bit of their freshness and body. Every time I try them, they’re just right.
Order: The brisket, which is marbled, juicy, and glorious, plus a side of collard greens. And don’t skip an order of Mary’s dirty rice.
Killen’s BBQ
Ronnie Killen went to culinary school in London and cooked across the US, but he couldn’t stay away from home. In 2014, the chef and pitmaster brought his grilling expertise to Pearland, a principal city within Houston’s metropolitan area. Now with several locations, Killen follows the Texas barbecue playbook—salt and pepper, indirect heat, and local wood—but his results are anything but standard. Smoked turkey, so often done wrong, can be a travesty at even the finest barbecue spots. Killen’s will show you the light.
He cooks his birds over smoldering wood for hours, until the meat is succulent and slightly sweet, with crackly salt-and-pepper-crusted skin. Customers have been known to drive 40 minutes to claim their spot in the busy dining room and indulge in the dry-aged brisket tamales, Flintstones-size beef ribs, and generous helpings of luscious creamed corn and potato salad. Each dish is, without a doubt, worth the drive.
Order: Even if turkey is not your go-to, do not skip it at Killen’s. As for sides, the creamed corn—an adult take on a childhood cafeteria dish the chef despised—is how one rights a culinary wrong.
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Feges BBQ
Feges is on a mission to convince Houston that the very best barbecue side is a great glass of wine. “There is no better beverage pairing than wine with barbecue,” says co-owner Erin Smith, who’s worked as a sommelier at Houston’s Camerata at Paulie’s, as a culinary director at the now-closed Clumsy Butcher, and did a stint at New York’s famed Per Se. The Houston native’s background and affinity for wine gave her the idea to introduce it at the restaurant’s Spring Branch location, where it’s become a more popular pairing with ribs and brisket than beer. That’s no small feat in this city.
At their two outposts (the one in Spring Branch, and another in Greenway Plaza), Erin and partner Patrick Feges take inspiration from their fine dining backgrounds to create a range of new approaches to Texas barbecue: think nachos embellished with crunchy chunks of salty chicharron and pulled pork with sweet and spicy Brussels sprouts. Add an order of hog-fat cornbread and pimento mac and cheese while you’re at it. They’re just the sort of grandiose, excessive sides you want from Texas barbecue.
Order: Though both locations serve excellent barbecue, head to Spring Branch if wine is what you want. Feges smothers their exceptionally delicious burnt ends in a syrup made with Big Red, a soda produced in Waco, Texas. Pair the meaty mains with spiced cracklins—crisped, fatty pork skin—and cornbread.
Leonard Botello IV has become a doyen of Central Texas barbecue since opening the snug first location of Truth BBQ in 2015 on a highway connecting Houston and Austin. Truth became a barbecue institution, and in 2019, he opened a large, sleek Houston outpost. “We have a lot of diversity in Houston, which pushes places around us—not just barbecue restaurants, but restaurants in general—to lean into that diversity and those flavor profiles,” says Botello.
Though he can execute an immaculate Texas Trinity, Botello’s genius lies in his success with playful experimentation. Think pastrami brisket, South Carolina-style whole hog (available on Saturdays), or brisket boudin—inspired by local Cajun and Creole culture. No trip to Truth is complete without an order of the cheesy, crisp tater tot casserole and, to round out the meal, a layered slice of coconut cake made by the restaurant's pastry chef, Kiki Wilkins.
Order: The juicy brisket boudin when it’s available, or the spicy pepper jack smoked sausage. There’s not a trip I’ve made to Truth BBQ without ordering the tater tot casserole.
Rosemeyer Bar-B-Q
What started as a hobby for friends Jordan Rosemeyer and Ben Maxwell has transformed into a locally beloved barbecue business. The pair shared an interest in barbecue while attending Sam Houston State University and to have some fun, began entering competitions. Their side project quickly became a passion project, and after quitting their jobs, they opened a barbecue trailer near a highway gas station in 2021. The sparse grassy area where their trailer is camped out has a couple of picnic tables for the lucky few who show up early enough. With traffic, it can easily take an hour to get from the city center to this food truck, but Houstonians show up in droves. One bite of Rosemeyer’s fragrant pork ribs glazed in honey syrup, and you’ll see why.
Brisket, generously fatty and redolent of oaky smoke, is doused in chimichurri and served on flour tortillas. Snappy, shimmering jalapeño sausages ooze with molten cheese. Rosemeyer might not be in the middle of town, but it’s a welcome and beloved addition to the city: two Houstonians building on the classic Texas Trinity, learning from one another, and making something wholly unique.
Order: The pork belly burnt ends, known as “meat candy,” in local circles, are exceptionally sweet and flavorful. And don’t miss the challah bread pudding studded with pecans, our state nut.
Correction: (2/28/24) Michael Sambrooks owns The Pit Room; he is not the chef. At Truth BBQ, the cake is made by pastry chef Kiki Wilkins, not by Leonard Botello IV's mother.