which has brought cooler temperatures. So our Tuesday afternoon errands in San Marcos provided an opportunity to indulge in slightly heavier fare: cue … as in barbecue, bar-b-que, BBQ, or simply Q. Which means beef brisket if you live in Texas and something else entirely if you don’t.

Growing up on Long Island, a backyard barbecue meant burgers and hot dogs. In Virginia, Pierce’s Pitt Bar-B-Que was the non plus ultra, where the meat was pork and the sauce had a tomato base. 

Nothing could beat it for succulence.

So I didn’t really “get” Texas brisket at first. It seemed kinda dry and not all that flavorful. Until the fateful day when I stood behind someone in a cut-to-order line and overheard, “Fatty end with bark, please.” Ah, that’s the secret!

Because really, lean makes no sense. If you’re going to eat cue, you need to go all the way. And I’ve since learned that properly smoked brisket, with its blackened exterior and red halo line, needs no sauce if the meat is already dripping in its own juices. All you need is some white bread to soak up the excess drippings and some vegetal sides so you can convince yourself you’re eating something healthy.

Something like this …

N.B. I just slipped in a retrospective post for last Sunday: http://imgoingtotexas.blogspot.com/2016/08/up.html