
It’s long been said, by those with long memories and revanchist tendencies, that the South shall rise again. Demographically the wish may be coming true, as the U.S. population abandons the Rust Belt for sunnier southern climes at an accelerated clip.
Thankfully, there are Souths other than that of Rhett and Scarlett. In a kind of local reverse migration, South Barbecue has left its previous location on the city’s South Side for new digs next to Lovers Pizza near Monte Vista. It’s too early to say if this is a trend.
But it’s not too early to declare that South Barbecue has lost none of its endearing accent in the move.
Some may find the setting’s exposed brick, tall wood-topped table running through the restaurant’s center and pale green walls set off by dark green upholstered booths almost too classy for authentic barbecue.
Don’t be fooled, though: brisket — that essential foundation of true, Texas-style pit mastery — emerges head held high. It’s got the essential peppery and bark-crusted exterior, there’s just enough fat to keep things moist and the flavor of beef isn’t masked by acrid smoke, thanks to skill and the choice of Post Oak as a fuel.
Barbecue sauce, that mysterious potion that is another essential aspect of barbecue joints around Texas, is a personal thing. If you love the sharp, sweet-sour rendition offered at South I won’t think less of you. However, I’m still trying to make up my mind.
The sauce isn’t a requirement for the brisket, but it could be a welcome amplifier for the lean, pork ribs.
Yes, “lean” is the faint praise you think it is. The delicately porky ribs are mercifully unencumbered by sticky-sweet sauce of their own, but they’re a tad dry. Give the house sauce a whirl and see if that helps. I imagine that pulled pork could use the help, too, though I didn’t try it out of stubbornness. The turkey breast would surely be overwhelmed.
But Smoke has created a mustard-based anointment for the turkey sandwich should you need a less robust alternative to burly brisket. A sturdy potato roll and spiced — but not spicy — pickles complete the compact package. No such packaging is immediately obvious for the sausages. Not even the better-than-Wonder potato bread slices that come with most orders.
What more to say about a sausage? They’re of the expected size and shape. The skin is suitably snappy, and the stuffing is neither too coarse nor too fine. The Regular Hot Link — there’s also a Jalapeño Cheddar — is comfortingly regular if not especially hot, unless you dunk it in the house sauce. Which was beginning to seem spunkier with each dunk.
But if it’s serious heat you’re after, order the Pickled Roasted Jalapeño. It gets your attention and is among the “extras” which include the same homemade flour tortilla that swaddles South’s barbecue tacos. Sides were always especially thoughtful at the original South location, and they’re also worth trying here.
The most memorable of those was the green bean and tomato salad. The fact that the beans hadn’t been cooked to an army-green mush, in traditional BBQ fashion, distinguished the dish from others. Cotija cheese and a few slivered almonds further fancified the presentation. That salad survived the move, but somehow seems less rebellious. At the very least, it needs salt and even a grind of pepper.
South’s borracho beans, on the other hand, didn’t disappoint, retaining all of their remembered savoriness. And “vinegar slaw” says it all for that other stalwart of the BBQ canon: cabbage, carrot, vinegar and not much more provide a perfect counterpoint to lush brisket.
My memories of the creamed corn are less distinct, but odds are that South’s owner-pitmaster, Andrew Samia, has continued to execute that staple well. Also known for his association with Curry Boys and the late Dignowity Meats, Samia has enough experience under his belt to elevate South even further.
A sign of this is the appearance of cocktails on the menu board. Of the three currently available, the Sugar Magnolia with bourbon and sweet tea is the most obviously barbecue adjacent.
At this point, Samia has put down roots at every cardinal point in San Antonio save one: the West Side. A further exploration of the Mexican-barbecue cultural hookup already suggested by South’s tacos and nachos would surely be welcome.
And while we’re at, a neighborly liaison with Lovers — brisket pizza, for example — might prove fruitful. The pair will have to share limited parking on days both are open in any event, so why not exploit the adjacency?
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