It's the Brisket, Stupid: Offset Barbecue and Francis Smokehouse Serve Very Good Texas-Style Barbecue

Barbecue, like love, is a many-splendored thing. And, like love, it manifests itself in many forms. Memphis barbecue is distinct from Carolina barbecue, which differs from the Kansas City style. 

Nevertheless, barbecue is strictly a Southern phenomenon. There is no such thing as Boston-style barbecue, and if you order barbecue in a New  England restaurant, you will likely be served Yankee pot roast smothered with a sauce made from a catsup base.

I've eaten barbecue all over the South, and it is all pretty good. However, Texas barbecue stands alone; when it's made right, Texas barbecue is the food of the gods.

What makes Texas barbecue unique from other regional varieties? What gives the Texas variety its almost mystical aura?

Texas barbecue is different because the Texans know what to do with beef, and by beef, I mean brisket. The Texans prepare brisket by cooking it with indirect heat and hardwood smoke at a low temperature for a long time--up to 12 hours. When brisket is cooked correctly, the end product is a moist, fat-infused meat with a thin, crispy crust.

Yes, you may be saying, but brisket can be prepared the Texas way anywhere on the planet. Theoretically, a Texas-style barbecue restaurant could operate in Greenland.

That may be true. But if the Texas barbecue style can be made anywhere, why can't we eat Texas barbecue in New England? 

There are three reasons.

First, it's hard to get the right wood for smoking meat outside of Texas. The ideal wood for smoking barbecue is mesquite, which doesn't grow in the United States outside the Southwest. It could be imported, but what New Englander wants to spend money shipping mesquite chips to Boston? 

Second, it's tough for a non-Texan to accept that a good brisket can take eight, ten, or even 12 hours to prepare. 

Third, most non-Texans are under a delusion that barbecue requires a lot of sauce. And that's simply not true. Indeed, Texas purists insist that putting sauce on a brisket is akin to smothering a filet in catsup.

I've sampled barbecue in Louisiana for years and finally despaired of eating Texas-style barbecue anywhere east of the Sabine River. Recently, however, I found two Louisiana barbecue joints that smoke beef briskets worthy of being labeled Texas style.

Offset Barbecue on Government Street in Baton Rouge is the real deal. Offset proclaims it serves Texas barbecue, "where Southern smoke 'meats' Lone Star flavor." As its name implies, this joint smokes barbecue with an offset firebox that slow-smokes brisket through indirect heat. Offset's brisket is as good as the premier barbecue joints in Texas--and that's saying something.

Francis Smokehouse and Specialty Meats in St. Francisville, Louisiana, also serves Texas-style brisket. I've eaten this restaurant's sliced brisket sandwich several times and always request a fatty cut of meat. The brisket is perfect. 

A couple of more comments about these Louisiana barbecue emporiums. First. I like the dining atmosphere at both outlets. Offset serves its food from a takeout window, and customers eat their meals at sun-shaded picnic tables in an atmosphere of understated elegance.

 Francis Smokehouse has decorated its dining area with deer mounts, a minimalist approach to interior decoration that I find appealing. The serving staff is as cheerful and friendly as they can possibly be.

A final word. Offset and Francis Smokehouse both serve good sides, which is also essential. It's not easy making Texas-style potato salad or coleslaw, but both restaurants got it right.

Image credit Offset Barbecue

Rape Pays Off For Hamas: Canada, France, and U.K. to Recognize a Palestinian State

 On October 7, 2023, Hamas terrorists crossed from Gaza into Israel and killed more than a thousand people, mostly civilians. Hamas also raped Israeli women, tortured helpless victims, and burned some Israelis alive. Hamas abducted more than 200 people and killed some of them in captivity. 

As Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu made clear, Israel cannot tolerate people who engage in such savagery. Israel has been fighting Hamas ever since the October attack, but Hamas still clings to life, protected by the surrounding Palestinian civilian population and an intricate network of tunnels.

Of the approximately 250 hostages Hamas captured on October 7, about 50 remain in captivity. Perhaps no more than 20 Israeli prisoners are still alive.

 Palestinian civilians have endured great suffering as a direct result of Hamas's acts of rape and mass murder. Many are starving, and thousands have been killed by Israeli ground and air attacks.

Without question, Israel's war against Hamas has created a humanitarian crisis in Gaza. The leaders of several nations have condemned Israeli tactics, with some accusing the Jewish state of genocide.

Three major Western nations--Canada, France, and Great Britain--are preparing to recognize a Palestinian state in the misguided belief that Palestinian statehood will hasten the end of suffering for innocent civilians in Gaza.

Israel and the United States object to this move, correctly pointing out that recognition of Palestinian statehood rewards Hamas for its acts of barbarism. Recognition also gives aid and comfort to the pro-Hamas protesters on American college campuses.

In my view, the recognition of a Palestinian state by three of the United States' NATO allies is an act of cowardice that will only encourage Hamas to continue holding the handful of hostages it has not yet killed.

Photographs of the living Hamas hostages are heart-wrenching and disturbingly similar to photos of Jews held in Nazi concentration camps during World War II. Indeed, Hamas antisemitism is equivalent to Nazi antisemitism. 

Hamas must be utterly destroyed, whatever the cost. Unfortunately, the craven acts of cowardice by Britain, France, and Canada will prolong the suffering of innocent Palestinians and the hostages that Hamas has so far allowed to live.

Prisoners in a Nazi concentration camp

Froma Harrop, Queen of Snark, Calls RFK Jr a Crackpot

 Having lost the presidential election, the Democrats have retreated into sneers, profanity, and snarkiness. Jasmine Crockett is the profanity princess, Stephen Colbert is the King of sneers, and Froma Harrop is the Queen of snark.

In a recent column, Harrop set her sights on Robert F. Kennedy. Jr., President Trump's Secretary of Health and Human Services. Froma labeled Kennedy a "crackpot" and an intellectual "subdelta."

Harrop said Trump put Kennedy in charge of "a world-renowned medical powerhouse" for two reasons. First, RFK Jr. "was well-suited to tear down another revered American institution." Why would Trump want to do that? Froma didn't say. "Ask a shrink," was her snarky response.

Second, Harrop claimed that Trump had found Secretary Kennedy "entertaining." She then jumped from this vacuous observation to attacking the entire Kennedy family, which, she charged, had wrongly claimed the status of royalty.

The Kennedys can be justly criticized on a number of fronts. Nevertheless, Harrop and the Democrats had nothing bad to say about them when virtually the entire Kennedy clan travelled to Washington to torpedo Bobby Junior's presidential campaign by endorsing Biden for a second presidential term.

Biden. Now there's a real intellectual subdelta!

Nowhere in Harrop's snark attack did she criticize any substantive decision that Secretary Kennedy has made. How could she?

RFK Jr. is attacking America's obesity crisis, calling out Big Pharma, focusing on the alarming rise in autism and diabetes, and pushing the processed food industry to remove harmful additives from the nation's food supply. Does that sound like a crackpot to you? Me neither.

Froma Harrop, like Stephen Colbert, Rachel Maddow, Joy Reid, and dozens of other denizens of the legacy media, has become irrelevant. Americans aren't listening to her anymore. She should keep quiet until she has something intelligent to say.

Froma Harrop, Queen of Snark

90-second Book Review: Four Winds by Kristin Hannah is a Fine book About The Dust Bowl Years

 Kristin Hannah's novel, The Four Winds, published in 2021, is a fine book on the Dust Bowl years in America's Heartland.

I like the book for two reasons. First, Hannah's description of what it was like to live on a Dust Bowl farm is harrowingly accurate. I wasn't born until after the Great Depression, but my mother grew up on a farm in northwestern Oklahoma during the Dust Bowl years. Her description of that time confirms the accuracy of Hannah's narrative.

The sky turned black when the dust storms rolled through, and visibility was restricted to just a few feet. Although my mother's family stuffed bits of newspapers around the windows and door sashes to keep the dust out of their farm home, it got in anyway, covering every surface with a layer of fine, gritty sand.

My grandfather had a small herd of cows but no forage. Finally, he was forced to sell them to the government for a pittance. 

To reduce the glut in cattle, government shooters came onto the family farm, gathered up grandfather's cows, and shot them. My mother saw that happen, and she remembers a line of cars filled with scavengers who followed the shooters and harvested the meat.

My mother's family often went to bed hungry. The drought made it impossible to grow a vegetable garden, and their fruit trees died for lack of water.

My grandfather came to Oklahoma from Nebraska in a covered wagon, and he prospered for a few years when the price of wheat was high. He owned three horse-drawn harvesting machines. I remember those old relics rusting away in front of his home.

As a child, I imagined those machines as Christopher Columbus's ships: the Pinta, the Niña,  and the Santa Maria. And I remember walking through one of my grandfather's pastures. No cows; nothing but sagebrush and sand.

The Great Depression broke my grandfather's spirit. He spent his last days sitting in a rocking chair and masticating Swisher Sweet cigars like chewing tobacco. I don't recall ever having a conversation with him.

I also liked Hannah's book for its description of the reception the Dust Bowl refugees got when they migrated to California. My mother's family stuck it out, but over a quarter of a million Oklahomans migrated to California in the 1930s.

Californians tried to keep them out, and when they got in anyway, California's big landowners hired them to pick fruit, vegetables, and cotton for starvation wages. Whole families worked all day just to buy their daily food.

Any review of Four Winds must include a comparison with John Steinbeck's Pulitzer Prize-winning novel, The Grapes of Wrath. Both books have a feminist theme. Elsa Martinelli, Hannah's protagonist, goes to California as a single mother with two children. By the novel's end, Elsa becomes radicalized and helps organize a farm workers' strike.

In The Grapes of Wrath, Ma Joad assumes the leadership of her extended family after the menfolk break under the strain of their flight to California. When the going gets really tough, Steinbeck implies, you gotta rely on the women to survive,

Every American should read The Grapes of Wrath and The Four Winds to understand rural Americans' desperate lives during the 1930s. They should also see John Ford's epic movie, The Grapes of Wrath, which won two Academy Awards in 1941.

It is fashionable today to view all Americans living in the Heartland as "white Christian Nationalists" who have prospered by exploiting people of color. Of course, that's not true. Most people in  Flyover Country work hard, practice their religion, and lead modest lives.

Moreover, the descendants of the Dust Bowl refugees claim a heritage of suffering, exploitation, and unbearable hardship--as harsh as any American has suffered in the twentieth century--regardless of color. This is my heritage, and I'm proud of it.

90-second food review: Ode to Jim's Barbecue in Waskom, Texas (and a Shout-Out to T.S. Eliot)

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

T.S. Eliot 

Years ago, I regularly traveled back and forth from Dallas to Baton Rouge. It was a grueling seven-hour drive on Interstate 30 and Interstate 49, with state troopers lurking in the wooded median strips, fiendishly designed to be perfect speed traps.

For years, I searched for a good place to eat on my weary travels, a country diner close by the highway that served comfort food at a reasonable price.

 Unconsciously, however, I  was looking for a 1950s diner like the cafes I knew in rural Oklahoma when I was a kid. I wanted to find a place that smelled like frying onions and hamburgers sizzling on a greasy grill. I wanted a country restaurant with a juke box playing songs sung by Lefty Frizzell.

Unfortunately, I only found fast-food chain restaurants: McDonald's, Burger King, Whataburger, and Dairy Queen.

One day, I stopped for gas in Waskom, Texas, the last Texas town on Interstate 30 before you cross the border into Louisiana. There, partially obscured by a McDonald's, I spied Ed's Barbecue with a sign that advertised barbecue and fried catfish. Could this be the end of all my exploring?

I entered, and a cheery waitress greeted me with an expansive invitation to sit wherever I liked. The joint looked right. A framed image of John Wayne hung on one wall alongside a vintage photo of Hank Williams performing on The Louisiana Hayride, an iconic radio show broadcast out of Shreveport, Louisiana, in the 1930s.

I quickly perused the menu and ordered a cheeseburger and a glass of sweet iced tea. In the long tradition of Texas roadside restaurants, my waitress addressed me with a string of endearments: sweetie, honey, and darlin'.

I remember my cheeseburger came fully dressed with a generous side of fries.

During my visit, I entered the men's room and saw an image of Don Knotts' Barney Fife holding up a single bullet for inspection. Undoubtedly, this pleasing washroom decoration had been curated by a high-end interior design firm in Dallas.

My burger was excellent, and my sweet tea was prepared just as I like: so sweet that I would be a pre-diabetic by the time I finished my meal.

I paid my bill and bought a jar of pickled tomato relish from a stack piled next to the cash register. As my waitress handed back my credit card, she asked the golden question:

Would you like a go cup for your sweet tea, sugar pie?

I realized then that my lifetime of aimless searching had brought me back to where I started, a little Southwestern town. And this was where I belonged--not in the  Harvard Faculty Club or a stuffy university, but in Ed's Barbecue Restaurant, chowing down on a cheeseburger, catsup-drenched French fries, and a large glass of sweet iced tea.

 

 

Downwardly Mobile Millennials Voted for Zohran Mamdani, and That Makes Perfect Sense

 Zohran Mamdani won the recent Democratic primary in New York City's mayoral race,  handily defeating  Andrew Cuomo, the epitome of the Democratic Establishment. Many commentators were surprised by the types of voters who supported Momdani--Jews, for example, and the wealthy elites in Manhattan. After all, Zohran is sympathetic to the Palestinian cause and has referred to some Israeli military actions as genocide. He has called for higher taxes on the rich, especially the ones living in "whiter neighborhoods."

Reihan Salam, writing for the Wall Street Journal, theorized why one particular segment of New Yorkers voted for Mamdani: downwardly mobile millennials. Salam defined downwardly mobile millennials as individuals born between 1981 and 1996 who are less well off than their parents or who perceive themselves as less well off.

Roughly 40 percent of millennials, according to research Salam cited, live in "high-cost, hyper-competitive metropolitan areas," where owning a home and paying off student loans can be "distant dreams."

Millennials in NYC and other Democratic strongholds often have college degrees and graduate credentials from prestigious universities, where they were groomed to believe they were preparing for high-paying jobs in glamorous industries and to take their rightful place among the urban elite.

Things haven't worked out so well for urban millennials. Housing costs are astronomical in NYC and other progressive Democratic strongholds. The job market for upscale jobs is fierce, and many millennials can't find jobs that allow them to pay off their student loans and still buy a home. 

Moreover, the crime rates are high in the blue cities, and the renter class bears the brunt.

No wonder so many urban millennials have turned to leftist politicians who promise to soak the rich. I say go for it!

However, Momdani supporters who are angry at the rich should reserve some of their rancor for the elite universities that charge outrageously high tuition for worthless diplomas, especially degrees in liberal arts, humanities, and the social sciences.

A few people who take out loans to get a degree from Swarthmore, Vasser, Columbia, Harvard, etc., can go to the Big Apple or other progressive cities and scramble to the top. Michelle Obama, for example, got her sociology and African American Studies degree from Princeton and is doing just fine.

However, many people who try to make the big time by taking out student loans to get a prestigious degree and going to New York, Chicago, or other expensive, crime-ridden cities, aren't doing as well. And it is these people who are voting for Zohran Mamdani and other leftist wingnuts.

If I were a millennial living in Manhattan on a salary of $90,000 a year, paying $4,000 a month in rent and $1,000 a month on my student loans, who would I vote for to be New York's next mayor?

 I'd vote for Zohran Mamdani.

Image credit Jonah Rosenberg/New York Times

"It's so cold that Bill and Hillary Clinton are sleeping together": CBS Cancels Stephen Colbert and It's the End of the World

For years. I was a big fan of The Late Show and watched it most nights when David Letterman was the host. When Stephen Colbert took over in 2015, I continued watching because I liked Colbert's comedy routines on The Colbert Report.

In time, however, I stopped watching The Late Show because Colbert got less and less funny. His monologues became snarky, and he mostly directed his witty barbs at Republicans.

Now, CBS is canceling Colbert and The Late Show franchise. Colbert makes $20 million a year, but his show was losing $40 million. You do the math.

Nevertheless, the Progressive Left is scandalized by Colbert's firing. The Writers Guild is calling for an investigation, and 200,000 people signed a petition accusing CBS of yielding to political pressure from the Trump administration. 

Senator Elizabeth Warren went so far as to point out that Colbert's termination "just THREE DAYS after Colbert called out CBS parent company Paramount for its $16M settlement with Trump[is] a deal that looks like bribery."

Colbert supporters demonstrated in the streets of New York City, chanting "Keep Colbert! Dump Trump!" One demonstrator said protesters were calling out "fascist censorship" against a Trump critic.

Here's my take. The legacy news and entertainment industry has been more liberal than the American public for half a century. Even as a kid watching the evening news on my family's Hallicrafters TV, I knew Walter Cronkite was a Democrat. Nevertheless, like most Americans, I trusted him to report the news fairly and objectively.

Likewise, Saturday Night Live and the late-night talk shows were populated by liberal Democrats, but they made fun of everybody--both Republicans and Democrats. I recall David Letterman observing that it was so cold that Bill and Hillary Clinton were sleeping together. And I remember Chevy Chase mocking President Gerald Ford for his clumsiness on SNL, and Dan Akroyd mimicking President Carter's apology for "flip-flopping on my flip-flop."

Those days of nonpartisan comedy are over. Now, Americans are in the streets demanding that Stephen Colbert, a sanctimonious sexagenarian, be reinstated to his $20 million gig on CBS, and Senator Warren hints darkly of bribery.

I miss the old days when Americans laughed at everyone in power--laughed at their pomposity, their hypocrasy, their venality, and their petty foibles that revealed their humanity. Don't you?