
Thanin Viriyaki
On my way out of Terry Black’s Barbecue, I ran into a guy on his way in; he stopped me in the parking lot to ask a few questions.
“How was it?” he asked.
“Good,” I replied.
“How are the prices?”
d“Kind of high, but I knew they would be.”
“How does it compare to Panther City BBQ?”
That’s the $6 million question: How does this family-owned chain out of Central Texas, which recently opened a Fort Worth location on West 7th to the tune of $6 mil, compare to Panther City, Goldee’s, Brix, Dayne’s, and the other independent ’cue joints that have helped turn our city into a barbecue destination?
Of course, that’s not the only question barbecue fans casual and dedicated have for Terry Black’s foray into Fort Worth. Also on our minds: How will it fit into a scene that’s already thriving? How will it set itself apart?
General manager Nathan Werner says he’s been tackling these questions since before the restaurant even opened.
“We know there’s a great barbecue scene here,” he says. “But what we’re doing here is a little different. We’re not just about putting out a perfect product. We’re about perfect hospitality, too. Let’s say you’re Franklin’s — eventually, you’re going to run out of food that day, and that’s disappointing to people who waited. Here, we have food from the time we open to the time we close. We’re not going to run out of brisket or anything else for that matter.”
That’s because Terry Black’s, which opened its first store in Austin 14 years ago after the namesake owner broke away from the famed Black’s Barbecue family of Central Texas, is a mammoth operation — a 6,400-square-foot behemoth whose pit room is packed with six 1,000-gallon Moberg smokers, made in Dripping Springs, and one rotisserie smoker for turkey and their housemade sausage; all the other meats, including brisket and beef and pork ribs, are smoked in the Mobergs 12-14 hours.
To tend the meats, pitmasters work round-the-clock. “We run three shifts a day, including an overnight shift,” Werner says. “I have 19 pit cooks. There’s always someone here working the pits.”
For the uninitiated, service is similar to other ’cue joints in that diners make their way through a line. First, you choose your sides, which include mac and cheese, pinto beans and creamed corn, along with complimentary pickles and bread. You’re then directed to one of several lines where you’ll choose your meats, which are sliced in front of you by a skilled cutter. You can choose as much or as little as you want, down to a single rib or slice of brisket. Unlike most barbecue restaurants, there are no meat/veggie combo plates — sides are served a la carte, and meats are priced by their weight. You have to be careful how you order your meats or else you’ll rack up a sky-high bill — sage advice for any barbecue joint; there are also sandwiches.
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Even when the line to order is long, it moves quickly, thanks to the numerous cutters. We stood in line 10 minutes our first visit, 15-20 minutes on our next visit when the restaurant was considerably more crowded.
The spacious dining room includes booth seating, which you don’t normally see at ’cue joints, rustic tables and chairs, and a nice patio that overlooks West 7th.
“You won’t have to wait for a table here,” Werner says. “People get their food, they eat, and they’re out. There’s an understanding that other people need to sit down and eat, too, so people are usually done eating in about 10 or 15 minutes. When you’re turning tables that quickly, there will always be a place to sit.”
From a food quality standpoint, Terry Black’s reputation as a well-oiled machine was plainly evident during our two visits. Ribs were thick, nicely cooked and juicy. Moist brisket was outlined in ribbons of fat and crust. During both my visits, it was spot-on. The casing on the housemade jalapeno sausage, during my first visit, was loose and came unfurled; personally, I like a tighter, snappier casing. But what it lacked in texture, it more than compensated for in flavor. During my second visit, the casing was appropriately tight, emitting small sprays of juice when I bit into it.
I’ve been to Terry Black’s in Austin once, the Deep Ellum location twice and now, Fort Worth twice — and the food has been the same at all locations: solid, of good quality, seasoned and smoked well.
“That’s exactly what we do — we provide consistency,” Werner says. “The locations are all a little different from one another. The look and feel of the Dallas store are a lot different than Austin’s. But the food will be of the same high quality.”
But just because the food is good doesn’t mean we’re going to stop supporting our hometown teams. Goldee’s, Dayne’s, Brix should have no fear. Fort Worth loves to support its own. Besides, Fort Worth’s barbecue spots offer something Terry Black’s does not: stuff other than barbecue.
Last time I went to Brix, I had their dynamite burnt end pancakes. My last meal at Dayne’s: one of their spectacular burgers. A few weeks ago at Panther City, I got their brisket tacos. Fort Worth’s barbecue scene, as I and others have pointed out before, is moving forward at a breakneck pace, driven not only by fierce — but friendly — competition but also a creativity born out of the culinary restlessness of their owners and pitmasters. These aren’t people who just wanna do great brisket and call it a day.
But that’s the formula that works at Terry Black’s. They do barbecue essentials well; I’d be shocked if you told me you had a bad meal there.
There’s no helping the vehement naysayers who’ve scoffed at TB’s arrival — more power to ‘em. There was a time when I wouldn’t listen to a punk record if it was on a major label. I get it. But those with even the slightest curiosity should at least try Terry Black’s and judge for themselves.
“It was good,” I told that dude in the parking lot. “But nah, it’s not Panther City.”
Terry Black’s Barbecue, 2926 W. 7th St., terryblacksbbq.com