Eastern style North Carolina barbecue is a dying breed. Slow cooking whole hogs over wood is an extremely labor-intensive task, requiring many hours, lots of wood, a strong back, patience, and a love of the craft. There are only a handful of barbecue restaurants left that make legitimate Eastern barbecue, and since I had a meeting scheduled in Greenville today, I thought it time to hit three places, two of which are legendary in North Carolina, and a third that should be. B's Barbecue & Grill on the western side of Greenville, NC is listed by many natives as being their barbecue joint of choice. I'm not sure if it's because of the food or because of its proximity to East Carolina University in Greenville, but the 26-year old establishment always seems to be busy. Hell, they even named the road its on after the restaurant. Housed in an old corner general store, the place is as spartan as any. You place your order at the counter (or at the outside take-out window -- that may be a better choice as B's has no air conditioning), and grab a seat. If you look to your left, you'll see a table of local lawyers enjoying their lunch, while to your right will be a table of farmers in overalls getting their mid-day barbecue fix. There are no color barriers in this restaurant. Socioeconomic classes are irrelevant. Hell, there were more women eating here this afternoon than men, and that's extremely unusual. I ordered a combination plate of barbecue and barbecued chicken (white meat). It came with slaw, boiled potatoes, and corn sticks. Adding a glass of tea brought the bill to $8.50. The barbecue is good to very good. It has a bit of smokey flavor, and the lack of smoke may be due to B's use of hardwood charcoal instead of the wood itself. Charcoal does produce smoke, but less than actual hickory or oak, the standard woods used for barbecue. The barbecued chicken, however, may be the finest example of this dish I've ever sampled. Chickens are slow cooked to the point where the skin is good and crispy. During the process, a vinegar-based sauce is brushed onto the chicken, but I sense this step is to facilitate the crisping of the skin. As a result, you have a tender chicken, with smokey, crunchy skin. If they would brine those birds, you would attain poultry nirvana. The slaw was great, simply because it wasn't overwhelmed with vinegar or sugar -- the flavor of the cabbage was the feature. Eleven or twelve miles south of Greenville is the small town of Ayden. As you drive into town, you're impressed by these huge, antebellum houses. The downtown area of Ayden, however, is filled with vacant storefronts. One downtown place that is busy, however, is Bum's Restaurant. Owned by Lathan "Bum" Dennis and his wife Shirley, Bum's is known not only for its barbecue, but its side dishes. Bum Dennis wears a huge, gray mustache, calls everyone "buddy" and "pal", and you know that you'd be happy drinking a beer with him any night of the week. While I started to eat my food, a customer bounced his 1-year old boy on Bum's head, who was visiting with other customers. One waitress called me "darlin'" and "hun." I don't think I blushed much. Another waitress saw me taking down some notes and asked "Do you like writing? So do I. You're writing about food? Well, I write about", and she then pointed upward. This woman found religion, and I was more than happy to have her talk to me about it. Oh, the food! I got a barbecue dinner with collards, boiled potatoes, corn sticks and tea: $6.50. Bum knows collards. I can say with no hesitation that I sampled today the finest collards I've ever tasted, and I eat collards every chance I can. These collards are not at all bitter, filled with smokey flavor. Seeing Ayden calls itself the Collard Capital of the World (and, yes, they do have a Collard Festival), I'm quite pleased that someone in this town makes such a fine sample of these greens. The barbecue is not chopped finely, as is customary with Eastern style barbecue. It actually is more akin to the pulled pork you'll find in other states. The flavor, however, is all North Carolina. It's incredibly moist, seasoned just right. Even though I was already full from B's, I couldn't stop eating this barbecue and those collards. I really wish Bum's was in Raleigh, not Ayden. Although I was full as a tick on the belly of a hound dog, I had to visit the other, more famous barbecue restaurant in Ayden -- Pete Jones' Skylight Inn. The Skylight Inn has been recognized by everyone and anyone. Mr. Jones has been a fierce advocate for traditional barbecue: his motto is, "If it's not cooked with wood, it's not bar-b-q." When some magazine named the Skylight Inn as the best barbecue joint in the country, Mr. Jones went a bit hog-wild (sorry) and had someone add a faux-rotunda to the top of his restaurant in an attempt to mimic the US Capitol. The restaurant thereby became even more of an icon. You won't find collards at the Skylight. The only vegetable served is cabbage in the overly sweet slaw. You won't find chicken or stew or even sweet tea at the Skylight. This place is about barbecue. I ordered a barbecue tray, which consists of a stack, with a dish of pork on the bottom, a piece of ultra-dense cornbread in the middle, and a tray of slaw on the top. With a fountain drink (they have both a Coke and a Pepsi fountain!), that cost me a grand total of $3.50. Tasting the barbecue reminded me why Pete Jones has received all the accolades he has. His barbecue is quite close to the way I make it -- each bite crunches from the small bits of skin (or "pork brittle" as Malawry calls it) he cuts into the meat. This results in perhaps the best flavor and textural combination possible. You're reminded of the work that goes into this dish from the constant "clunk, clunk, clunka, clunk" from the two cleavers wielded by the man behind the counter, chopping the barbecue. Sauce is almost non-existent with this barbecue, as you really don't want to do anything to diminish the pork. It's incredibly rich, and you can't eat a lot of this stuff, but damn, it's awesome. If I had to choose a barbecue to eat every day, I'd choose Bum's or Wilber's in Goldsboro. If I had to choose a barbecue as my final meal, I'd take the Skylight's -- that's the memory I'd want to take to my grave. I may end up in hell, but I would certainly have had a bit of heaven prior to my descent. B's Barbecue in Greenville The combination plate from B's. I love corn sticks for one reason: I don't eat them, leaving more room for barbecue and chicken. Otherwise, they're a waste of stomach space. The side of B's, showing the take-out window. B's has a street named after it, but apparently, they can't spell "barbecue." Bum's Barbecue in Ayden A barbecue dinner plate from Bum's. Damn fine Q and collards. The menu from Bum's. A hamburger for $1.35??? The woodpile behind Bum's. The Skylight Inn, in all its glory. Note the collard truck. This is how you a barbecue tray is served to you at the Skylight. A better view of the Skylight's barbecue. Note the brown pieces of skin cut in. Chopping the Q. The billboard for the Skylight. That picture of Pete Jones must be 25 years old. He has to be in his 70s now, but he still works the counter. A man of very few words. Perhaps the single most impressive woodpile I've ever seen was this one behind the Skylight.
