We are in an age when comfort foods are not just desired, they’re essential. Oreo cookies comfort me. So does chocolate sorbet. And then, there’s barbecue, the ultimate non-vegan experience, chewing on a nice meaty pork or beef rib, or some brisket, slow-cooked and filled with the flavor of smoke.

For the sake of standardization, let us call it “barbecue.” I know that it’s often called “bar-b-q,” “barbeque,” “bar-b-que” and often just plain “BBQ.” But by changing “que” into “cue,” there’s an element of Americanization at work, turning the word from its French roots to a sort of street lingo that smacks of dingy bar stools, beer from a bottle and whiskey out of a fruit jar.

Barbecue, let me tell you, is real people’s food. It may parade in classy duds, but underneath is a taste of smoky rooms and bad-tempered Saturday nights. Barbecue is food you eat with your teeth, your jaws, your whole being. I’m not talkin’ quiche here, I’m talkin’ ribs.

As a technique of cooking, barbecuing has been claimed by Greece, Mongolia, Sardinia, India and Native Americans. The early settlers in Virginia appear to have picked up the idea of barbecuing pigs and large fish from the local tribes.

The word “barbecue” itself seems to come from the Acadian French term “barbe a queue,” which translates literally as “from whiskers to tail,” and gives you a fair idea of how much of the animal was barbecued. (Another school of thought holds that “barbecue” comes from the Spanish word “barbacoa,” a term picked up from the Arawak Indians, who would cook meat over heated stones in a hole dug in the ground. Either may be the true derivation of the word, though I prefer the picturesque nature of the Acadian translation.)

Ribs are, of course, not just ribs. Beyond the quality of the meat, and the care with which the pitman works the fires of the great brick oven, and the nature of the wood used to flavor the smoke, beyond all that, there is the sauce, which often comes in two forms. The first is what Texans called the “sop” or the “mop,” which is the marinade in which the meat is first soaked, and then basted throughout the cooking process. The second sauce is the one you use to slop on the ribs when the crucial moment of ingestion is near.

Barbecue ribs — coated in a luscious, finger-lickin’-good sauce — is a taste treat for any day of the week. Several local restaurants prepare must-try versions that are perfect for takeout and delivery. (Shutterstock)

Barbecue chicken — seasoned, coated with a sauce or both — is delicious and also makes a wonderful comfort food for trying times. Several local restaurants have must-try versions ready for both takeout and delivery. (Shutterstock)

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Barbecue ribs — coated in a luscious, finger-lickin’-good sauce — is a taste treat for any day of the week. Several local restaurants prepare must-try versions that are perfect for takeout and delivery. (Shutterstock)

Barbecue chicken — seasoned, coated with a sauce or both — is delicious and also makes a wonderful comfort food for trying times. Several local restaurants have must-try versions ready for both takeout and delivery. (Shutterstock)



That sauce usually comes in versions either mild or hot. Do not take these labels lightly. Some years ago, I was waiting for an order of ribs at the fabled Vic & Betty’s Soul Bar-B-Q in South San Francisco, when the woman working my order sighted a pimpmobile rolling by outside. “Damn,” she declared, “there goes that baaaaad pimp. If he comes in here for some ‘cue I’m gonna give him the hot sauce to get rid of him.” I swallowed hard, and got ready for a long evening, for I had already ordered the hot sauce. She was right — it had me sweating, gasping and making strange noises for hours afterward.

These days, what I go for is the flavor of the meat, as unsullied by sauce as possible. Which is why I love the ‘que from the following local wonders, where smoke is not just in the air, but in the meat as well. Get ready to chew…with a smile.

Buckboard BBQ

461 S. Citrus Ave., Covina; 626-974-9991, www.buckboardcatering.com

This is seriously delicious chow, drawn from an unexpectedly large menu, that includes fish tacos, pulled pork, shredded chicken, and a bunch of salads and desserts. But mostly, there are the barbecued meats, which show up in all sorts of dishes. The melt-in-your-mouth good tri-tip sirloin is an essential part of the three combination plates — The Wrangler, The Rustler and The Cowboy. It comes in the hard-to-resist tri-tip and pepper jack cheese quesadilla. Along with melted cheese, salsa and bacon, it tops the french fries. (Think of it as nachos on steroids.) You can have it on a sandwich with cheese and Ortega chiles, or without. It’s in the sandwiches and the tacos. And, of course, you can get it by the pound.

I opt for The Cowboy combination, which gives you a choice of three of the four meats. I went with the tri-tip, the smoked chicken and the smoked pork ribs, leaving the beef ribs for next time. The combo comes with sides of pinquito beans, and potato salad or coleslaw. The coleslaw is a bit overshredded for me. But the potato salad is killer good — richly spiced and creamy. It travels well — and so does the peach cobbler. When you’re eating ‘que, you want a cobbler for dessert. And a beer to wash it down. But since they don’t offer beer at Buckboard, you’re on your own.

Canyon City Barbeque

347 N. San Gabriel Ave., Azusa; 626-815-4227, www.canyoncitybbq.com

Canyon City may be the most affable barbecue house in Southern California. This isn’t to say that places that serve ribs and brisket and pulled pork are hotbeds of hostility. But Canyon City exudes a sort of casual ease that makes you want to linger. Which of course, we can’t do these days.

To cut to the chase, good barbecue is moist, tender and rich with a multitude of layers of flavors and textures. Bad barbecue is dry, and needs lots of sauce and beer for you to choke it down. Canyon City serves very good barbecue. There’s the tender, sweet, very smoky brisket, dry-rubbed and not really needing the sweetish barbecue sauce at all…or the tri-tip, with its grainier texture, and penchant for melting away before you can chew it.

And then, there’s the pulled pork, which the restaurant notes is its “#1 seller.” I like the pulled pork. But pulled pork is Southern barbecue and Canyon City offers ‘cue from the South, the West, the Heartland — wherever there’s smoke and meat and rub and sauce. There’s some fine smoked chicken as well, along with rib tips (“chopped, sauced and piled high”), and brontosaurus sized beef ribs and “fall off the bone” St. Louis spareribs. Links too. And so much more.

In case I’m in need of a between meals snack, rather than a serious feed, I appreciate the presence of the pulled pork sandwich, the pulled chicken sandwich, the beef brisket sandwich, and the PPSO (pulled pork, Swiss and diced red onions on a toasted bun). For the record, you can add bacon and avocado to the sandwiches, double the cheese, supersize and top with coleslaw — which gets downright kinky.

Chris’ & Pitt’s

11350 E. Washington Blvd., Whittier; 562-699-9069, www.chrisandpittsbbqrestaurants.com

For those of us who have been here for awhile, Chris’ & Pitt’s isn’t just a restaurant, it’s an iconic destination, awash with the history of the second half of the 20th century in Los Angeles.

The chain — now greatly diminished — dates back to 1940. And the remaining branches feel very much as if it’s still the 1940s — from the kitschy, retro décor, to the old school affability of the servers, to the choice of dishes. I mean, Hawaiian-style pork spare ribs? That hollers the-way-it-used-to-be.

As it turns out, the way it used to be is just fine — especially it you’ve got a bit of an appetite. The baby backs are monstrous big — these are very large babies — with meat that pretty well falls off the bone, slathered with the house brand of barbecue sauce (regular or spicy, which does offer some hot, but not too much). The ribs over flow from the plate, which is piled high with thick French fries, garlic bread and beans. Thankfully, the soup comes in a separate bowl!

Overloaded plates is the house style — a friend ordered the pulled-pork sandwich, arguing that for him, it was pulled pork that gave the measure of a barbecue house. You could barely pick up the sandwich without knocking the fries every which way.

Gus’s BBQ

808 Fair Oaks Ave., South Pasadena; 626-799-3251, www.gussbbq.com

It can be said that the Arroyo Seco Parkway (better known these days as the Pasadena Freeway), which opened in large part in 1940, ultimately led to the creation of Gus’s BBQ. Gus’s began smoking meat in 1946. And though it would certainly have been available for the denizens of South Pasadena and environs, getting there from the rest of the L.A. area would have been a task. A worthwhile task, certainly. But a task nonetheless.

It would be great fun to say that Gus’s hasn’t changed a whit since it first opened 75 years ago — but that would be stretching the truth. There’s a photo on the menu of the original bar, with a sign that informs that the special is 10-cent whiskies, and 15 cents for a double — and that’s certainly changed. But I’d also like to believe that the iconic neon sign in front is as it’s always been — a beacon for those hungry for Memphis baby backs and St. Louis spare ribs.

Like the sign, Gus’s exudes old school charm — a happy place with a long counter in the front, and a dining room and bar in the back, built around a wonderful painting of a jazz man playing guitar.

At the heart of the menu are the dishes smoked in the pit — ribs, chicken, Texas beef brisket, Carolina style pulled pork, smoked sausage, tri-tip and more, served with an exhaustive assortment of sides, more than a dozen, including jalapeño cheddar grits dirty rice and braised Southern greens.

Gus’s is both old and new at the same time — and the worlds work together very well. The many craft beers, on draft, do a noble job of washing down the ‘que and sauce. The Southern hospitality of the original owners is everywhere, at what was then the best barbecue house in town — and which remains a contender. That Gus’s isn’t trendy is refreshing, a well-worn pair of jeans that still fit after all these years.

And if they ever offer whiskey for 10 cents a shot again, I’ll be there, bending my elbow on their well-worn bar.

Houston’s

320 S. Arroyo Pkwy., Pasadena; 626-577-6001, www.hillstone.com/houstons

This is Americana, albeit Americana viewed through a glass darkly. It’s curious chow, both plain and edgy at the same time.

There are two dishes in particular that draw me back again and again to Houston’s — the Chicago-style spinach and artichoke dip and the “knife-and-fork” barbecue ribs. The dip has become something of a cliché around town since it first appeared at Houston’s (much as Buffalo chicken wings have grown ubiquitous after being introduced at the Anchor Bar in Buffalo). But nobody does it quite as well as Houston’s. Where other spinach and artichoke dips tend to be overwhelmed by the melted cheese that holds the whole thing together, at Houston’s the spinach and the artichoke actually have integrity.

But for me, the bottom line at Houston’s are those ribs. Yes, they make a very nice seared ahi (flavored with a soy vinaigrette, served with couscous — Asian-Moroccan cooking?). The Louisiana-style pecan trout is swell. The roasted chicken with mashed spuds or black beans can’t be beat. The hardwood grilled ribeye is a treat. But for me, there’s nothing quite like those ribs. They’re pork ribs, a medium sized rack, long cooked over hardwood in an oven that perfumes the room with the essence of aromatic smoke. They arrive with beans and slaw (and very good beans and slaw at that). And there’s a moment that’s so sublime, when the first cut is made with the knife, and it slides through the meat like (cliché alert!) a hot knife through butter.

You can eat the ribs with knife and fork (how fey!), or with fingers (how manly!). In either case, the meat falls from the bone, the flavor is rich and essential, you get grease all over your chin, and joy is universal. These are great ribs, as sit-down ribs go. It may well be what they serve at restaurants in Heaven.

L & L Hawaiian Barbecue

319 S. Arroyo Pkwy., Pasadena, 626-583-4960; 323 N. Azusa Ave., West Covina, 626-732-2221; 8760 Washington Blvd., Pico Rivera, 562-222-1722; 1600 Azusa Ave., City of Industry, 626-581-3338; www.hawaiianbarbecue.com

The L&L Hawaiian Barbecue chain was born in Honolulu back in 1976. These days, there are branches all over the Islands (many of which are drive-ins). And hereabouts, the L&Ls are found in shopping malls, in storefronts where their eminently simple menus can be served with startling speed.

The best way to get a hit of the cooking at L&L (and by extension of what the locals eat over there) is to order the BBQ Mix Combo Plate of Hawaiian barbecue beef, Hawaiian barbecue short ribs and Hawaiian barbecue chicken.

The sauces used here are more salty than spicy, more teriyaki than barbecue — but they do the job well. The chicken, in particular, is sweet and tender, hard to stop eating. By contrast, the beef and ribs tend to be a bit chewy, though with all that good sauce on them, it’s hard to stop jawing.

There’s also Spam musubi, which is basically Spam sushi; and a Spam and egg sandwich. In Hawaii, they like their Spam a whole lot.

Wowo’s Smokin’ Hot BBQ

13022 Whittier Blvd., Whittier; 562-273-5477

Wowo’s is a barbecue shop in the old school of storefront smokehouses. The only thing that would make it feel more downhome would be if it were a cinder blockhouse on a back road in Texas or the Southeast, where ‘que joints can be found in the least expected locations — possibly, I suspect, because the smoke creates a tasty haze that will drive those living nearby to distraction. Or it just may be because the rent in the back country is appropriately low.

Ordering here is pretty basic. There are a trio of pork ribs — St. Louis style (richly sauced; more barbecue sauce is said to be consumed in St. Louis than any city in America!), rib tips, and sweet & sour rib tips. There’s a brisket lunch (five slices) and a brisket dinner (seven slices). There’s a chicken lunch (three pieces, a chicken dinner (five pieces), and a fried chicken dinner (Sundays only). There are hot links. Chicken, brisket, pulled pork and fried fish are turned into sandwiches. And, yes, the fish is served only on Fridays, just like back in the day.

Needless to say, there are combos as well, with two meats, and three meats. And lots of good sides, some of which (the yams) are available Sundays only. There are plenty of rules here. They’re worth following because this is probably the best barbecue in Whittier, and some of the best in Southern California.

The meat has been smoked so long, and so slow, that it can be argued it’s no longer meat. It’s been turned into smoke in the form of ribs and brisket and chicken.

That first taste is dazzling — it hits you with a rush of smoke and char, until you bite in, and realize that this is meat as tender and sweet as a mother’s love. This is food that once you start eating it, you simply can not stop. You can’t put this aside. If it’s in front of you, you will eat every bite, and then root around for more. Are the bones edible? If they were, you’d eat them too.

The meat on the ribs tears off with wonderful ease. It doesn’t exactly fall from the bone — but it’s close. The brisket is a thing of joy and wonder — so tender that each morsel turns into a nugget of flavor. I love brisket, always have, and this preparation reminds of why it means so much to me. Forget Kobe beef — brisket rules.

And, not surprisingly, the sides are pretty darned good as well — especially the richly peppered collard greens, and those yams, which I made a point of showing up on a Sunday to get. The yams are closer to dessert than a vegetable. But then, there’s also a fine peach cobbler, and a 7-Up pound cake, that really are dessert.

The nice thing about taking it all home, aside from being able to control the mess (somewhat) is that you can crack open a beer. Beer and barbecue — that’s the ticket. Wowo’s really is smokin’!

Zeke’s Smokehouse Barbeque

2209 Honolulu Ave., Montrose, 818-957-7045, www.zekessmokehouse.com

Zeke’s is a casual smokehouse, a clean, well-lighted room with a counter, a few booths, a few tables. If there are two of you, or if you’re a smoke lover with a flexible waistband, the way to begin is with Zeke’s Feast — a three-way as it’s often called, with a choice of three taken from the ribs (Memphis baby backs, KC spares, Texas beef), the brisket, pulled pork, chicken or links. I’d suggest the spareribs, the pork and the chicken is an excellent way to begin — each approaches the Platonic ideal in its own way.

Actually, what I’d really suggest is getting a pulled-pork sandwich as an appetizer. It’s served on the whimsically puffy rolls made by a local bakery — rolls so good they’re worth consuming all by themselves, perhaps with a slather of one of the trio of sauces that come with the meats.

The sauces are sonnets to spice, liquids so complex their tastes seem to vary depending on what they’re on; the most reddish-brown of the sauces seemed sweet eaten by itself, but developed a sharp muskiness when spread on the pork — it’s almost as if a chemical reaction was going on in my mouth.

At Zeke’s, they top a double dollop of pork and sauce with their finely crunched slaw, sliding the whole oozy mass between their tasty puff bread. Eating it is an exercise in addiction; one bite, and you got the jones.

Other great places

Bonnie B’s Smokin’: 1280 N. Lake Ave., Pasadena; 626-794-0132, www.bonniebssmokin.com

1280 N. Lake Ave., Pasadena; 626-794-0132, www.bonniebssmokin.com Clifton BBQ: 33 N. Catalina Ave., Pasadena; 626-795-1005

33 N. Catalina Ave., Pasadena; 626-795-1005 Domestic: 325 N. Citrus Ave., Covina, 626-699-2209; 110 Glendora Ave., La Puente, 626-961-4600; www.domesticbbq.com

325 N. Citrus Ave., Covina, 626-699-2209; 110 Glendora Ave., La Puente, 626-961-4600; www.domesticbbq.com Porky’s Pit Stop: 1531 E. Washington Blvd., Pasadena; 626-710-6089

1531 E. Washington Blvd., Pasadena; 626-710-6089 Steve’s BBQ: 7007 Greenleaf Ave., Whittier; 562-789-0200, www.stevesbarbq.com

Best thing to drink with barbecue

Beer. Any questions?

Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Send him email at mreats@aol.com.