La Barbecue – Austin, Texas

Every summer, a predictable ritual takes place. After hibernating comfortably since the previous autumn, men attired in aprons emblazoned with the slogan “kiss the cook” will selflessly volunteer to “cook” a meal. This, of course, means grilling, a decidedly masculine affectation and the only type of cooking most men can be entrusted to do. When this ritual is completed and guests are sated, lavish praise and thanks are heaped upon the “chef.” In truth, the only aspects of this ritual for which men are typically responsible is getting the grill lit, placing the meats on the grill and turning them (after our female better halves warn us that the meats are burning).

Normally all the preparatory work—buying the food; preparing the salad, vegetables and desserts; preparing the meat for cooking; organizing plates and cutlery; preparing the plates—is done by our wives and girlfriends. Ditto for the post-dining rituals—clearing the table, doing the dishes and putting everything away. Insouciant clods that men are, we can’t figure out why our ladies are upset when we asked how they enjoyed their “night off.”

Men love to play with fire.  Those who get really good at it–and have a lot of patience–may eventually graduate from backyard grilling and tailgating to real barbecue, cooking meats at a low temperature and for a long time.   Some men love this, especially when we’ve gotten too old, fat or decrepid to participate in macho sports.  That’s why you see so many men at competitive barbecue competitions.  There’s a widely held belief (maybe a stereotype) that most of the competitors at such events and most barbecue joints are owned by brawny, sweaty men who are really good at shoveling beds of coals to maintain exacting temperatures.  There just don’t seem to be a lot of women engaged in barbecue.

It just so happens that two of the very best pitmasters in the world are from Texas. One is Tootsie Tomanetz, an octogenarian who puts most of us thirty-year-olds to shame. Her boundless energy and ineffable passion led to Snow’s BBQ being named the best in Texas (ergo, the universe) in 2008 by Texas Monthly Magazine. The other Texas femme flamma is Ali Clem, owner of La Barbecue in Austin.  It’s probably no coincidence that the term “la” is the singular, feminine definite article in Spanish.  There would be a third name on this list, but Ali Clem’s wife and partner LeAnn Mueller passed away in 2024.  Savvy barbecue aficionados recognize the heralded name “Mueller” and indeed, LeeAnn came from barbecue royalty. She was the granddaughter of the Taylor, Texas smoked meat legend Louie Mueller, and daughter of James Beard Award-winning barbecue luminary Bobby Mueller.

LeAnn and Ali opened up La Barbecue as a small food truck on South First Street in 2012.   The aromas emanating from their motorized conveyance had the same effect the Pied Piper’s playing had on Hamelin’s rodent population.  Devotees queued up to enjoy the wonderful barbecue.  In November, 2021, they launched a brick-and-mortar on East Caesar Chavez.  The long lines followed them.  That wasn’t lost on Texas Monthly Magazine which in 2021 named La Barbecue “one of the 50 best barbecue joints in Texas.” It will be interesting to see how La Barbecue being awarded a Michelin star in 2024 will affect its placement on Texas Monthly’s sacrosanct list.

Learning of the legendarily lengthy lines of barbecue enthusiasts, I arrived at precisely 10:10AM on an overcast Sunday morning.  There were already eight people in line ahead of me.  By the time I left, the line snaked down the street.  La Barbecue’s queueing process is orderly and constrained.  Every group–including groups of one like me–has to be beckoned into the restaurant by the cashier.  Place your order and you’ll witness the deft legerdemain of a guy with a very sharp knife.  With skill and precision few of us have, he’ll slice up your meats, pile them onto your sandwich and essentially start you on your way to deliciousness.

While in line, you can’t help but notice the most controversial aspect of La Barbecue.  A neon sign displays a brazen image of a woman bearing a remarkable semblance to the Virgin Mary.  This version depicts a heavily tatted Blessed Mother holding a meat cleaver in her right hand.  Texas Monthly’s Barbecue Editor Daniel Vaughn opines: “A passerby might wonder if it’s the entrance to a hipster Catholic church—until they see “Our Lady of Barbecue” printed beneath it.”  In a city where a burger joint named “JewBoy” doesn’t raise anyone’s hackles, few seem to consider the imagery sacreligious.  Maybe that’s all part of Austin’s weirdness.

Seating is limited in the dining room though there are several picnic tables under the overhang preceding the restaurant’s entrance.  That, my friends, is another reason to arrive early.  Another reason is to see the unmitigated expressions of sheer joy on the face of diners as they tear into hunks of meat and extricate pork from bones the size of the one that tipped over Fred Flintstone’s car.  My beef rib could probably tip over some smart cars.  It’s akin to a full roast atop a bone.  There are bone “handles” on both sides of the rib which means, of course, you can pick it up with your hands to eat.  The meat practically falls off the bone.  Eating one is like a religious experience if orgiastic pleasure can be gleaned from such an experience.  A peppery layer of sheer deliciousness lays atop a quarter-inch or so layer of unctuous fat.  Below that you’ll find meat so sinfully good you might need to go to confession afterwards.  At the very least, you’ll need a cold shower.  It’s absolutely outstanding.

Ordinarily a single beef rib and maybe a side or five would suffice, but with no guarantee of a future visit, I also ordered a sliced brisket sandwich topped with pickles and onions.  Layers of fatty and lean brisket were nestled between sweet, soft Martin’s potato bread, the best canvas for a sandwich I’ve had in a long time.  The brisket was of the swoon-worthy variety, as delicious as any I’ve ever had.  The pickles had multiple personalities–the expected tanginess you find in most pickles, but also spicy, garlicky notes.  After consuming both a behemoth beef rib and a towering brisket sandwich I was more than sated.

Michelin’s Texas guide lavishes praise on La Barbecue: “a Barbecue’s massive, custom-built pit in the backyard is the rarified workshop in which meaty miracles are realized.”  Meaty miracles, indeed.  I’m a believer.

La Barbecue
2401 E Cesar Chavez Street
Austin, Texas
(512) 605-9696
Website | Facebook Page
LATEST VISIT: 23 February 2025
# OF VISITS: 1
RATING: N/R
COST: $$$
BEST BET:  Beef Rib, Sliced Brisket Sandwich, Big Red
REVIEW #1456