RailHead BBQ: March Madness Cinderella Story

By Tyler Jones

March 18, 2015

Sometimes the best things in life rest under rocks that have never been turned over; take great BBQ, for instance. This entry begins far away from the heat of the smoker, though: in fact, the “polar” opposite. Thursday March 5, 2015: the Southern Methodist University front office sends out an e-mail early in the morning declaring an official snow day. All activities for the day would be cancelled including the much-anticipated trip to Fort Worth by the Lambda Chi Alpha Associate Member class to see our mentor Federal Judge Robert Means. The 4 inches of snow covering the icy streets of the Metroplex guarded any safe travel, so the trip was declared delayed. On such a cold, windy day, all we could think about was the BBQ dinner we were rumored to be partaking in that night. Thoughts of steaming smoke created an imaginary blanket that coated all of our frigid bodies. Where were we going to eat? We had no idea! But in a state full of excellent BBQ, we knew Judge Means would not let us down.

Almost two weeks later, after a much-needed Spring Break trip to BBQ-dry Arizona, I had moist brisket and tender pork ribs on my mind. Thankfully, Junior Luke Twombly sent out a GroupMe notification around 10 a.m. on Wednesday March 18, 2015: “we will be visiting Judge tonight in Ft. Worth. He will show us around his courtroom and then take us out for BBQ.” To which I immediately responded: “Where?!” and then proceeded to rattle off Ft. Worth’s most famous joints including Cousin’s, Longoria’s, and Cooper’s. Twombly replied that we would definitely be going to Cooper’s. I was immediately overcome with an ecstatic demeanor; though it was not the original Cooper’s Pit BBQ in Llano, Texas, the stockyards version would certainly do. The famous Cooper’s pork chop was about to be devoured by yours truly.

Upon arrival at the Federal Courthouse in downtown Ft. Worth, Judge Means showed us around several courtrooms, and we even got to go in his own quarters: beautiful furniture, a large office space, and numerous awards outlined the palatial setting. It was very reassuring to see how successful the man is that battles day in and day out for your fraternity. But let’s get down to business—BBQ business. When he asked where we wanted to go, Twombly insisted we had made up our minds to go to Cooper’s; but Judge Means sighed and said, “I prefer Railhead.” Because we didn’t really have a choice to go against a native Ft. Worthian’s word, Judge spat out the directions to Railhead Smokehouse. So my buddies Joey, Mason, and I hopped in my 2014 white GMC Sierra (at this point the BBQ slab) and darted to the smokehouse. I was no doubt disappointed we were not going to Cooper’s, but at this point I was willing to try something new due to my watering mouth. I went for the usual—two meat plate with brisket and pork ribs. I was especially excited to try the ribs after Judge Means insisted it was their best item and when the pit master told me they were spareribs—my favorite of all BBQ cuisines. Ironically, my friend Joey and I had agreed to eat healthily just a few days before, but this is what I do: BBQ. The first bite of pork rib I took removed all remorse I had about skipping out on Cooper’s: these ribs rank at the top of my list. The tender, red, perfectly barked meat came right off the bone with just the slightest tug—a solid indication of the ideal pork rib. Also, you know they’re good ribs when Memphis BBQ snobs like Kirk and B-Rad rave about them: welcome to Texas! Needless to say I devoured the ribs. Next came the brisket—what I consider the true test of a BBQ joint just because perfecting it is such a task and an art. The brisket had a load of bark on it—something I genuinely approve of. But the brisket was no doubt over-smoked and rather dry. Flavor was lacking, but I did have one moist bite and I must admit it was rather good. I would be willing to try it again, but I would be very picky about the cut they give me off the block. Additionally, the BBQ beans and coleslaw were good, but nothing to rave about like the beans from Joseph’s Riverport in Jefferson, Texas.

After long political conversations with Judge Means, we all hit the road back to the better of two cities. The afternoon was enjoyable and a new gem was uncovered. Don’t sleep on Railhead BBQ.

Joseph's Riverport BBQ

Top 50 BBQ Tour

Joseph’s Riverport BBQ

Robert Tyler Jones

8 January 2015

The dance of decadence to Texas Monthly’s Top 50 BBQ joints continues with a visit to Joseph’s Riverport BBQ in Jefferson, Texas. Coming in at number 11 on the legendary list, the expectations were set high for luscious fare. Still, the only reason this trip took place is because the forecast of inclement weather in the Austin area. My parents and I had planned a three day long trip to central Texas to visit places such as top-ranked Franklin BBQ (Austin), Louie Mueller BBQ (Taylor), and Cooper’s (Llano). Wednesday night the 7^th, after playing poker with my friends, my dad informed me that the weather in Austin was not to be tested and that the trip would not be occurring. No doubt sensing my immediate disappointment, my dad suggested we go on a day trip to one of the Top 50’s closest venues—which just so happened to be in Jefferson, Texas. Though Franklin BBQ (the state’s and potentially the country’s best BBQ) would no longer be involved on this leg of the tour, Joseph’s Riverport BBQ did not disappoint. Driving north from Marshall into Jefferson in my 2014 white GMC Sierra while my dad and I quizzed each other over US history (typical), the first glimpse of the town was a bridge across “Big Cypress Bayou,” the first hint of Louisiana influence on the town. The town—made up of brick buildings and numerous antique malls—quickly greeted us with Joseph’s Riverport BBQ. After parallel parking the Sierra—a feat that requires consecutive spaces for execution (only possible in a small town)—we entered the BBQ domain. Upon entry I held the door open for a woman who practically shouted “thank you” in the friendliest voice as if I had known her for years—a small town vibe, no doubt. The occupants of Joseph’s consisted of mostly elderly couples who stared at us as we walked to the counter. I did not take this as rude behavior, but as an indication that they had no idea who we were because in a town that small (2,199 people according to a decorative sign inside) everybody knows everybody. After finally settling on 3-meat plates for all three of us consisting of brisket, pork ribs, and pork sausage, we took our seats at a table set for six people with foldable metal chairs. The surrounding tables had creole sauce placed next to the ketchup bottle—another Louisiana feature. Our meat platters were brought out in large, cardboard containers—something that my dad commented that he liked. My first bite of meat was taken of the pork rib, which had a perfect casing and a thick layer of red where the smoke had really penetrated the meat. The meat peeled off the bone with just a slight tug, a sign of a great pork rib. The taste was both salty and sweet. Step one—I officially approved of the pork ribs. Next I tackled the brisket (my true test of BBQ greatness). Before I could take a bite, my dad commented, “don’t even need a knife,” and he was correct. The brisket was not very juicy, but still excellent nonetheless. The best taste was when I got a thick piece of bark covering a thin layer of fat and tender beef—the pinnacle of the whole trip. Probably my favorite meat on the sampler was the sausage. I have to admit, though, it did not look overly appetizing. Just like store-bought sausage, it did not have any appealing charring or even peppery insides as it came out of the kitchen already sliced on our cardboard platters. But, when the first bite reached my mouth, I immediately warmed up to it. I am a very picky pork sausage kind of guy, so for me to enjoy that mediocre-looking meat so much, there must be some kind of secret behind it. After foregoing the massive “Swamp Fries” (jalapenos, bacon, cheese, and brisket), I enjoyed a simple side of seasoned fries and cole slaw—which was some of the best I had ever had. In addition, my dad raved about the BBQ beans (he even brought some home). After running into a food wall at full speed, I had to stop. At that point my dad suggested we order ribs, chopped beef, and brisket for the remainder of the weekend—something I am sure to appreciate in a few days. After driving around the old town, I noticed that the most modern thing was the BBQ place, which burned down and was rebuilt in 2012. Numerous buildings dated back to 1851 and were decorated ornately as if they were straight out of New Orleans. The Big Cypress Bayou used to court steamboats, which apparently brought influence from the eerie, Caddo Lake 15 miles east of Jefferson. To conclude the BBQ tour, we drove to Uncertain, Texas, which sits on the banks of Caddo Lake. We were uncertain why it is called Uncertain, Texas, but nonetheless it was the creepiest place I had ever been: the banks were lined with cypress trees dangling with Spanish moss and the water was still and murky. I just knew there were formidable things lurking in there—which was also indicative of the alligator tour signs all over the place. My mom even commented that she hoped some strange person would not follow us, and I did not laugh because it definitely crossed my mind as well. We then traveled south down Highway 43 back to Marshall where we saw their beautiful, tan-bricked courthouse (not the active courthouse, but still erect). While driving through Marshall I thought to myself how much more like the state of Texas it looked, so maybe Jefferson, Texas, should really be Jefferson, Louisiana. Next we drove west on Highway 80 to Hallsville where we gawked at their high school and my dad noted how well the town’s taxes assist the education system (this is also when I noted that my hands smelled like I had been horse back riding on a leather saddle). Finally it was back to Interstate 20 and back to civilization—or at least just Tyler, Texas. But at the end of the day, some of the state’s best BBQ was tasted in Jefferson, Louisi—I mean Texas.