The best barbecue spots in America

Consistently ranked among the nation’s top BBQ joints, this smokehouse epitomizes the Kansas City style of slow-smoked meats slathered in a thick, sweet, tomato-and-molasses-based sauce. Kansas City—on both its Kansas and Missouri sides—is chockablock with excellent BBQ spots, but Joe’s is a two-state favorite. Don’t miss the iconic burnt ends and the Z-man sandwich: sliced brisket, smoked provolone, a couple of onion rings, barbecue sauce on a Kaiser roll.

The first state that comes to mind for many of us when talking about barbecue, Texas, is swathed in excellent BBQ joints whose styles vary depending on whether they’re in East, West, Central, or South Texas. The Salt Lick, a consistent favorite among smokeheads, serves the central style, spice-rubbed meats slow-cooked under indirect heat from oak wood. Our favorite option is the juicy beef brisket, but you can’t go wrong with the pork ribs, sausage or surprisingly tender turkey either. Plus, it’s BYOB—need we say more?

Another important capital in the nationwide BBQ scene, St. Louis cooks up a sauce-heavy style of barbecue glossed with a light, tangy, tomato-based sauce. In a city full of excellent smokehouses, Pappy’s is a local legend, garnering fans with its genre-defining pork ribs: dry-rubbed then slow-smoked over apple and cherrywood until crispy without and melting within. Honorable mention goes to the burnt ends, the rich, tender points of a beef brisket.

Come for the essential brisket, pork ribs and sausage, but stay for the sides (and occasionally, the free beer). At this East Side trailer, surrounded by a few simple picnic tables with some enormous old trees for shade, it’s the chipotle coleslaw—zestier than most with a kick to match the house-made chipotle sausage—and fresh black bean salad that raise the total-package bar a cut above. Perhaps it’s also the humble, genuinely friendly nature of young pitmaster Dylan Taylor that gives La Barbecue’s meats the highest-quality edge. Or it could be that dash of granulated garlic they add to the traditional salt and pepper rub. In any case, there clearly isn’t a lack of reasons why no one in ATX cooks it up better. Just make sure to arrive early—when the meat sells out, they close for the day.

Heavy on pork, with ribs and shoulder taking center stage, Memphis-style BBQ is one of the country’s four predominant types. There’s nowhere better to sample it than at ground zero, downtown’s Central BBQ. Consistently ranked among the city’s best smokehouses, Central’s 24-hour-marinated ribs are rightfully revered: dry-rubbed, smoky and oh-so-tender, they all but fall apart in your hands. Want more pork? Go for a pile of Central’s soft, juicy pulled pork, anointed with mild, hot or vinegar-based sauce.

Throughout the state of Alabama, cuts of pork are barbecued over hickory, oak and pecan wood until smoky, tender and infused with spice. Pulled pork typically defines the genre but gets a unique spin from a local condiment: white sauce, a tangy whip of mayo, cider vinegar and lemon juice that adds acidity and richness to the soft meat. At Saw’s, a Birmingham institution since 2009, this meat-sauce combo is perfection on a bun. Don’t sleep on the stuffed potatoes, loaded with hearty fillings such as bacon, green onions and cheddar.

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In Eastern Carolina, barbecue means one thing: whole hog. In this part of the state, pitmasters have perfected the ancient and delicate art of smoking a whole animal over indirect oakwood heat for hours and hours—often overnight—until all the cuts yield a smoky, falling-apart mess o’ meat. Skylight Inn, owned and operated by the Jones family since 1947, is a pillar of the form: recognized by everyone from the James Beard Foundation to Southern Living to the Travel Channel, the smokehouse keeps things simple, serving top-notch plates and platters of whole hog BBQ with slaw and bread and not much else. And once you dip your fork into a pile of their expertly barbecued pork, you won’t want for much else, anyway. 

Twin Texpats Justin and Jonathan Fox helm this Austin-by-way-of-Atlanta restaurant near downtown’s Little Five Points. The freewheeling menu at Fox Bros. culls from the entire American barbecue diaspora. Think chicken-fried pork ribs, Tater-Tots covered in brisket chili or Brunswick stew and pulled-pork sandwiches accompanied by crispy fried okra. Smoked chicken wings are a crowd-pleaser, as are the in-demand, until-sold-out dinosaur-like beef ribs. Seven rotating drafts and 45 bottled beers include local names SweetWater and Terrapin.

It's Memphis that gets all the attention for barbecue in Tennessee, which is maybe why Edley's feels like it doesn't need to stick to the barbecue old standards. This much-loved Nashville mini-chain loads nachos and fries with smoked meats, slathers smoked wins in white barbecue sauce and dreams up composed dishes like the Tuck Special: smoked brisket with an over-easy egg, pickles, pimento cheese and red and white sauce. Wash it down with a Bushwacker, a milkshake of sorts that can come boozy or kid-friendly.

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Little Lexington, Kentucky, a town of only about 300,00 souls, is nevertheless crowded with excellent BBQ spots: this is a place that takes smoked meat seriously. Locals divide their loyalty among about a dozen top spots, but we head to Red State BBQ, a little roadside joint serving up big, flavorful barbecue. Pulled pork, beef brisket and pork ribs are dry-rubbed and smoked low and slow, then anointed with Red State’s excellent house-made sauces: Texas Spicy, North Carolina Spicy Vinegar, Memphis Sweet and South Carolina Mustard. For dessert, don’t miss the homemade peach bread pudding topped with a scoop of bourbon ice cream.

NOLA’s homegrown food scene hardly disappoints, but American barbecue was traditionally notably absent among the po’boys and pralines. Since 2004, Bywater fixture The Joint has been raising the regional bar(becue) for pork ribs, shoulder, brisket and chaurice sausages. Meats are smoked on-site in a custom smoker, and portions are epic, but in-the-know locals end their ’cue with slices of the Joint’s legendary pecan, key lime and peanut-butter pies.

Pit master Chris Lilly is a legend in barbecue circles. He has taken 10 World BBQ Championships and six world titles at the Memphis in May ’cue cook-off. Lilly helms the hickory at 90-year-old institution Big Bob Gibson, best known for smoky barbecue chicken in his trademark tangy white sauce. Never one to let smoking coals lie, Lilly later introduced traditional red sauce at Big Bob Gibson—and promptly took home the American Royal prize for the world’s best barbecue sauce.

Served out of a colorful trailer just north of Houston, CorkScrew serves up beautifully smoky brisket, spicy sausage, ribs and smoked turkey, and you can get them in a platter or turned into sandwiches or tacos. (Yeah, tacos may not be traditional, but roll with it.) Then add a slice of pie, and sit down to a feast at the cluster of picnic tables. 

Anyone seriously into Texas barbecue makes a pilgrimage (or just moves) to Lockhart, a tiny town between Austin and San Antonio, where you’ll also find Smitty’s Market and Black’s Barbecue dishing up classic ’cue. Kreuz may not have the charming old-school ambiance of Smitty’s (which occupies the former’s original premises), but it’s been around since 1900, so they’ve had time to figure out how to master fat-laced brisket and meaty, juicy sausages.

Grab your Wet-Naps—Brooklyn’s BBQ renaissance shows no signs of cooling off. In fact it spawned three locations of Hometown, one all the way down in Miami. The original, a wood-paneled 120-seat smokehouse, is the latest addition to the scene, a collaboration between self-taught pit master Billy Durney and restaurateur Christopher Miller (Smith & Mills, Warren 77). Inspired by his Brooklyn upbringing and travels through the South, Durney turns out 'cue with global influences. Dig into smoked meats both American (Texas-style brisket, North Carolina–inspired baby back ribs) and international (smoked jerk chicken, lamb belly banh mi). The drinks match the honky-tonk menu: Bartenders pour draft beers (Smuttynose, Shiner Bock) and American whiskeys (Van Brunt Stillhouse).

While many barbecue joints are order-at-the-counter places where things like real plates and clean bathrooms may be a bonus, this is a full-blown nice restaurant. Sure, you’ll still see customers throwing down head-to-toe Chief’s gear, but Jack Stack serves serious Kansas City barbecue along with white linen napkins. First timers should order the sampler for the full Jack Stack experience: barbecue chicken, pork spare ribs and burnt ends.

Since 1962, Piedmont-area mainstay Lexington Barbecue has been producing tangy pork barbecue sandwiches, served sliced or chopped (or, for the ravenously committed, one of each). Occasionally referred to as “The Honeymonk” after the owner Wayne Honey Monk, the roadside spot roasts pork shoulders over hickory and oak coal, giving them a sweet, toasted taste that’s subtler than their smoky brethren. Don’t skimp on the tart, cider vinegar-based cabbage slaw, which locals scoop directly atop sandwiches.

Uninitiated outsiders may not consider Owensboro a barbecue hub, but Moonlite presents a strong counterargument. The enormous establishment combines a lunch and dinner buffet, an à la carte dining room and a takeout operation selling sandwiches and meats by the pound. The house specialty is Kentucky’s hickory-smoked barbecue mutton, served sliced or chopped, alongside more traditional fare like ham biscuits, pork sandwiches, smoked catfish, corn muffins and lemon icebox pie. 

South Carolina has four regional barbecue sauce styles, and around Columbia, Carolina Gold reigns supreme. The sauce starts with yellow mustard and adds tang from vinegar and sweetness from honey and sugar. It’s usually doused over pulled pork, and Doc’s version is terrific. Eat as much as you want from the affordable buffet, which also stocks mac and cheese, collards and other staples.

If there were an Austin award for “Most Hyped Restaurant,” it would go to Franklin Barbecue. It might, in fact, be the most hyped in all of Texas. How could a barbecue joint reach this level of notoriety? James Beard Award winner Aaron Franklin honed his craft for years before opening the BBQ trailer that he quickly outgrew. The line started back then and hasn’t stopped; the line starts at 6:30am every morning without fail—with waits up to four hours—and lasts until the food runs out. The brisket is seasoned and smoked to juicy perfection. The pulled pork will ruin your palate for any other pulled pork. Franklin’s house-made sausage is spicy, flavorful and oozing with juices. The hype is real, and you should really believe it.

Like a lot of good things these days, Apocalypse got its start in the pandemic when Jeffrey Budnechky would show up to breweries to hawk racks of ribs from his 22-inch grill. Now, the concept has found a permanent home in a renovated caddy shack smack in the middle of a golf course, where Apocalypse slings something still fairly unique: Miami-style barbecue. What that means is ribs slathered in layers of a sticky sauce made from colada with espumita, meats slow-smoked with a cafecito spice rub that imparts a rich umami flavor and an old fashioned that arrives a skull hat that holds in a cloud of smoke. Traditional? Not a chance. But Apocalypse nails its flavor combos, feeling very much like the city where this place was born.

Drummer-turned-chef Hugh Mangum first hawked his Texalina (Texas spice meets Carolina vinegar) specialties at his immensely popular Smorgasburg stand. Now, Mighty Quinn’s has brick-and-mortar locations as far south as Tampa. At the steel-tinged East Village location, black-gloved carvers give glistening meat porn a dash of Maldon salt before slinging it down the assembly line. Paprika-rubbed brisket, slow-cooked for 22 hours, boasts a quarter-inch smoke ring and a girdle of fat that will have your taste buds cheering. The thick campfire bark of the pulled pork elevates it from the usual saucy porcine slop you’re used to, and the Jurassic-size beef rib is so impossibly melt-in-your-mouth tender, one bite will quiet even the pickiest of BBQ hard-liners.

Open since 2000, Frisco’s oldest BBQ restaurant is a critical darling that’s equally adored by local eaters and visitors from California and across the country. The Haight standby crafts true wood-smoked BBQ, slow-roasting its pork shoulder, beef brisket and andouille sausage over white oak logs for four to 18 hours. Don’t forget to dip into excellent sides such as smoky beans, candied yams and rich mac ‘n’ cheese.

Living in Kansas City means being able to answer a key question: Gate’s or Bryant’s? And while we offer respect to the classics offered at Gate’s, we’re sticking with Bryant’s for the quintessential KC-style ribs. Known as “The King of Ribs,” the late Arthur Bryant was one of the city’s most famous pitmasters. His descendants still run the business today. In addition to the burnt ends sandwich piled high on delicious Wonder Bread, indulge in the rich and spicy sauces that have been recognized nationally by the likes of former Presidents Jimmy Carter and Barack Obama.

A larger-than-life establishment with two branches 30 miles apart in southern Mississippi, The Shed began as a humble, family-run affair built from dumpster-diving spoils in 2002. The Ocean Springs original has grown from a one-room riverfront shack to a 9,570-square-foot campus, whose expansive digs include a stage that has been graced by the likes of T-Bone Pruitt, Voo Davis and the late Percy Sledge. (Performance schedules vary by venue, so check the website for upcoming shows.) House specialties include meltingly tender baby back ribs, plus pecan-smoked brisket and wings in sweet, largely tomato-based house sauces.