While most of the Texas pitmasters battle over who makes the jiggliest brisket, Leroy and Lewis turns underdog cuts into headline acts. Towering beef ribs share the stage with chuck roast that’s as beefy and tender as any steak, and even vegetables like miso-glazed carrots have been slow-smoked to bring out their hidden sweetness instead of tossed on the menu purely for a pop of color. Brisket makes an inevitable appearance—and it’s nearly perfect.

The line for Goldee’s starts forming before sunrise, but if you show up by 9am on weekends—or a leisurely 10am on Fridays—you should be able to avoid the dreaded “sold out” signs. You’ll spend the next few hours making conversations with your line neighbors, most starting with the same question: "Do you think this line is worth it?” The unanimous answer is yes. Goldee’s nails the Texas classics.

At 2M Smokehouse in San Antonio, smoked sausage is ground with oaxacan cheese and serrano peppers, the mac and cheese crackles with chicharrónes, and on weekends, beef cheek and pork jowl appear in barbacoa form. Even with all that, the pork belly is some of the best in South/Central Texas—glazed in sticky sauce and dusted with sesame seeds—and the turkey is juicy enough to inspire its own cult following. To beat the line, arrive about 30 minutes before opening on weekends (less on weekdays).

Rosemeyer is a food truck that shares a parking lot with a gas station Arby’s, but you’re here for free beer, slow-smoked brisket, and some of the best damn pork ribs in Texas. These aren’t set-it-and-forget-it ribs—they’ve got just enough bite, with an even crust of coarse salt and pepper. You’ll spend your drive home thinking about them and the pulled pork topped with crispy cracklins. This is a food truck that can hold its own with any of the longstanding juggernauts in town.

Parish is Central Texas barbecue that spent its summers in Louisiana and found a way to seamlessly blend both worlds. Thick, salty slabs of smoked ham put anything behind Golden Corral’s carving station to shame, while crawfish stuffing and jalapeño cheddar boudin sausage feel less fusion and more “why haven’t we been doing this all along?” The brisket stands up against any classic spot in town, and the pork ribs are as close to perfect as any you’ll find in the state.

One of the best emails you can receive as a Dallasite is from Cattleack on a weekday morning: “No Line at 12.” The dining room is massive, and don’t be surprised to find folks outside at the covered patio with a cooler of beer next to their table. Direct your eyes to the blackboard for what kind of sausage you should order that week, sometimes speckled with peppers like stars in a meat sky. And for some extra local flavor, get the macaroni cheese with hatch chiles.

You could show up to Interstellar for nothing but brisket and ribs and leave perfectly content. But you’d be depriving yourself of sweet and sticky pork belly burnt ends glazed in peach tea, rich and gamey pulled lamb shoulder, and a chalkboard of daily specials that make Interstellar worthy of the 1-2 hour line.

Aaron Franklin’s brisket set the global standard, spawning the "Franklin Barbecue experience"—hours spent tailgating with lawn chairs and beer coolers. This is brisket that defined a genre: seasoned simply with salt and pepper, smoked until the fat turns to butter, and moist enough to affect the local humidity. It’s worth the three to four hour wait at least once. So grab your folding chair, crack open a cold beer, and settle in for Texas’ year-round tailgate activity.

Classics like brisket and ribs are textbook Central Texas, but it’s the extras—smoked chicken drumsticks with a peppery crust, or thick-cut turkey that eats like a steak—that makes this spot destination-worthy. Add in some Big Red tres leches or a side of creamy mac and cheese topped with crushed up Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and you’ll see how Burnt Bean layers classic comforts with a little creativity.

You don’t just casually go to Snow’s to eat some BBQ—you have to earn it. It’s open only one day a week, located in a town of barely 1,000 people, and run by a 90-something-year-old school janitor named Tootsie, who still works weekdays for the local school district. The nearest big town is an hour away, and if you show up after 8am, your shot at brisket is pretty much gone. Week after week, barbecue enthusiasts make the journey for rich, smoky slabs of brisket and chicken.

Panther City’s menu is long, a little intimidating, and covers a lot of ground. There’s brisket, pork ribs, smoked bologna, and a rotating cast of “BBQ twists,” but it’s the pork belly burnt ends that put this Fort Worth spot on the map. These lacquered little cubes of meat coated in a thick, sticky glaze steal the spotlight on a tray full of hits. Thanks to relatively short lines, you can usually roll up 15 minutes before opening and still be elbows-deep in meat by 11:15.

You’ll probably spend the 60-minute drive from the nearest town with an HEB wondering if this whole trip is really worth the gas and time, but the pilgrimage has a purpose. That purpose is burnt ends. These soft, savory nuggets have a thick, chewy bark that adds just the right amount of bite to the meat underneath. Pair them with sides like green chile cream corn and bacon green beans, and you’ve got a perfect blend of Central and West Texas worlds.

KG is about having brisket and ribs with Mediterranean rice and topped with baladi salad, tahini, and candied nuts. Or sticky pomegranate glazed pork ribs, or smoked chicken kabob shawarmas with sumac-pickled onions. Barbecue is at the heart of the menu, but they’re a vehicle for Egyptian flavors rather than just something to pair with white bread and pickles. This is a meal that reimagines the entire Texas barbecue experience.

Barbs B Que draws the longest lines in Lockhart. The name is a nod to Nicki Minaj fans, which feels fitting for a spot doing a fresh take on barbecue that’s as rooted in post oak–smoked beef as it is in Flamin’ Hot pork ribs. Brisket anchors the menu, but you’ll also find things like smoked lamb chops and neon-green spaghetti, Shrek-tinted from a rich and creamy poblano sauce. Barbs is only open on weekends for a few hours each day, so plan to show up about an hour before they open at 11am.

A few decades since first firing up its smokers, Hutchins is still one the biggest names in DFW barbecue. The menu sports all the classics, but the star here is the famous Texas Twinkie. It’s a jumbo, bacon-wrapped jalapeño that’s mercifully stuffed with chopped brisket and cream cheese. Don’t leave without trying it. Note that there’s also a Frisco location and a separate Original Roy Hutchins BBQ in Trophy Club that was born in 2023 from a family feud. Feel free to pick sides.

Every day at Blood Bros is a new experience, depending on which ribs, sausages, or wildcards they’re serving. Regular pork ribs are available daily, but show up on Wednesday, Thursday, or Saturday and you can order them glazed with gochujang. On Fridays and Sundays you’ll unlock the slightly more rare guava-glazed versions, and on Saturdays, they transform into beef ribs. Don’t show up Monday or Tuesday—they’re closed. If you're bored of the classics, there’s a menu of “specialty" entrees.

This self-described “Tex-Ethiopian smokehouse” is a berbere-spiced bridge between Arlington and Addis Ababa. Here, brisket and meaty rib tips are seared with awaze, a traditional Ethiopian condiment that adds an earthy, peppery kick to everything it coats. There’s also smoked doro wat (their take on the spicy chicken stew) and loaded injera nachos, which swap chips for crispy injera bread topped with your choice of meat, stewed chickpeas, barbecue sauce, and ayib, a fresh and crumbly cheese.

Set in a modern building on the edge of town (technically, Wolfforth), Evie Mae’s manages to feel both polished and unpretentious. There’s a cowboy trough full of free beers near the entrance, and a few minutes after making your way through the short line, you’re eating smoky, deeply flavorful turkey, snappy sausage, and pulled pork. Since Evie Mae’s is closer to New Mexico than Central Texas, you’ll also find subtle regional influences, like hatch green chile in the grits and the sausage.

You can read about the family drama, or you can just head to the small shop in Lockhart where it all began in the 1930s. The brick walls surrounding the pit wear decades of smoke like a badge of honor, and the peppery brisket tastes like a page from a barbecue history book. But the most legendary thing here is the beef rib—a hulking, bark-covered cut so soft and rich. Nearly 100 years later, and Black’s consistently shows us that it can still hang with the new kids on the block.

Reese Bros is a smoky oasis just a few blocks from San Antonio’s Alamodome. The entire operation is outdoors, with shaded picnic tables and breezy fans swirling around a heady vortex of smoke and spice. The menu leans on the classics, but it’s the daily specials that make this place worth a road trip from anywhere in the state. The brisket is thick-cut but pulls apart with a gentle tug, and the queso fundido sausages are packed with just enough oozy cheese to mellow out the heat.