Podnah’s Pit BBQ

Growing up, my family wasn’t exactly barbecue saavy. Barbecueing was a scary business, marked by the stink of charcoal and matches and great roaring bursts of flames from lighter-fluid happy amateurs. It wasn’t until my freshman year in college that I discovered that barbecue didn’t have to mean blackened burgers and chewy hot dogs and chicken breasts that tasted like shoe leather.

Podnah’s simplistic down-home charm goes hand in hand with some of the city’s finest barbecued ribs, brisket, pulled pork, smoked trout, and yes—pecan pie.

Thanks to my dorm mate Joe, who grew up on a ranch and learned his AB’cues when he was still in diapers, I learned that barbecue could be so much more than just savagely incinerating a helpless piece of dead meat. Under Joe’s careful watch, critical eye and slowly drawled instructions to anyone he trusted to man the grill while he refreshed his 7 & 7, his homemade barbecue pit turned out tender strips of thinly sliced tri tip, chicken basted with beer and spices and dripping with juice, slabs of sizzling thick cut bacon, and  ribs, oh the ribs.

Gnawing on a perfect barbecued rib, somehow crispy, juicy, chewy and tender all at the same time—powerful emotions welled up inside of me. I wasn’t sure how I’d ever lived without these astonishingly good hunks of roasted bone and meat. It was the same way I feel about Google, essentially, without the meat and bones part.

After college Joe and his barbecue and I parted ways and I flitted around with a lot of different barbecue joints. Some were promising—spicy riblets, inventive barbecue sauces, bells and whistles like fried okra and coconut cream pie, but none of them were The One. And then came Podnah’s, and I was whole again.

It’s not much to look at from the outside, just a neat and narrow little two-window storefront with a couple of picnic tables outside, and inside the décor is as clean and sparse as a freshly devoured rib, but its simplistic down-home charm goes hand in hand with some of the city’s finest barbecued ribs, brisket, pulled pork, smoked trout, and yes—pecan pie.

Don’t you dare pass up the iceberg lettuce wedge, which wallows in a sea of house blue cheese dressing so beautifully tangy it borders on sour. It’s hard to say what the best day of the week to visit Podnah’s is—Tuesday is all day rib and draft happy hour, but on Saturday and Sunday breakfast is served, and until you’ve had Podnah’s eggs and brisket, you might have just thought breakfast meant overdone eggs and sad little wisps of bacon. And like me, you were so, so wrong. 

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