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• #Barbecue restaurants mac#

Last winter, Sonderman and his boss, Steve Salis, rolled out the 25-foot Fedmobile, which plowed right through the red tape holding up Fed Pig’s Hyattsville smokehouse. I don’t know who’s been more frustrated with Fed Pig’s long-delayed debut in Hyattsville, Md.: me or pitmaster and partner Rob Sonderman, the man who gave Washington its first taste of craft barbecue when he was leading DCity Smokehouse.

#Barbecue restaurants mac#

But everything else was dead solid perfect, and don’t forget to order the smoked Gouda mac and cheese because anything worth doing is worth overdoing. The brisket on my latest trip was tighter than usual and the pulled pork a dash or two below its standard seasoning levels. Monk’s boasts one of the most ambitious menus anywhere, a Brobdingnagian spread of wings, pulled pork, burnt ends, sausages, chicken, pastrami, turkey, spare ribs, brisket and even bacon on a stick, all house-smoked and all worth a try. That kind of experience often translates into consistency, arguably the hardest element for any smokehouse to lock down. The crew at Monk’s has many years working the seven smokers that occupy the patio next to the main dining room.

Such devotion doesn’t happen by accident. The namesake pitmaster credits his ability to resume catering operations last year, but Monk’s also has a loyal following at the restaurant, too. Unlike some of their peers in the big city, the couple’s smokehouse in Purcellville, Va., has seen its revenue rise during the pandemic. Give Chanin, 25, a few more years, and the right equipment, and watch him move up this list.Īll things considered, life has been pretty good for Brian Monk Jenkins and his wife, Kirsten, out in Loudoun County. Self-taught in the art of smoke, Chanin was initially a disciple of Texas pitmaster Aaron Franklin, but he’s developing his own style, including a cheesesteak sausage (you read right) big, toothsome and intoxicating spare ribs and dark, crusty slices of brisket that rely on one of Texas’s worst-kept secrets: Lawry’s seasoned salt. Grubbing Hard still has no bricks-and-mortar space - that’s on Chanin’s to-do list - but the pitmaster has developed a devoted following with events and pop-ups, relying on a surprising variety of meats that he cooks in reverse-flow and cabinet smokers at the commissary. Chanin put up a Facebook post, announcing his DIY barbecue venture, “and I got, like, 15 cars lined up in front of my parents’ house waiting to get food.” A year ago, Chanin outgrew the family’s backyard and moved to a commissary kitchen in Gaithersburg, Md. Chanin had been cooking meats on his folks’ patio as a form of recreation, but when he lost his job, friends challenged him to go to work for himself.

Allman’s sells brisket only on Sundays, which I have yet to sample my recommendation is based mostly on Deaton’s pulled pork and spare ribs (smoky, unpretentious, honest) and his terrific chicken, a pile of pulled bird mixed with Allman’s house sauce, a clove-heavy condiment that locals love so much, Deaton says, they will go through a whole bottle in one seating.įurloughed early in the pandemic from a law firm, where he was pushing paper for attorneys, Matt Chanin found his true calling in his parents’ backyard. “I really want the meat to tell the story,” he says. You could call it elemental: His rub is little more than salt on pork, and salt and pepper on beef. Over the years, Deaton has stripped down his approach to barbecue. The pitmaster’s first order of business was rolling in two Lang reverse-flow smokers so Allman’s could get back to cooking with live fire, not ovens. Mountain Song was a pandemic-related casualty, but Deaton has landed softly in Fredericksburg, Va., where he has partnered with co-owner Matt Haney to drag this historic restaurant into the era of craft barbecue. You might remember Matthew Deaton as the guy behind Mountain Song BBQ, the short-lived collaboration between the pitmaster and Neighborhood Restaurant Group.