Disco Death and BBQ Review

Disco Death and BBQ Review

For some years, one of my buddies, yes, I do address him as “Bubba,” has been after me to try a certain BBQ place in New Braunfels.

— CBQ Smokehouse —

When he first started bugging me to try this, it was in Selma, or Schertz, or Cibilo, one of the Comal County suburbs.

First bad omen? In a strip center. In a typical — Frontage Road Texas — strip center. Some previously productive farm field that is now mall food, chain stores, and other, horrible suburban blight. By the side of the freeway. Strip center ugly.

Owner–operator is an old friend of an old friend, they worked at radio stations. All I got.

“Radio’s dead; I like food” (Cancer).

The walls are adorned with detritus, the flotsam and jetsam of a long career associated with hard-core rock’n’roll, gratuitous fist in the air. A little too clean and little too “strip center” for my sentiments. Seriously, how can anyone be “outlaw” surrounded by national chains and anchored by a Target? All they needs is a Starbucks next door to completely ruin the image.

Disco Death and BBQ Review

Disco Death and BBQ Review

However, to rise above such an inglorious setting? The food is that good.

Disco Death and BBQ Review

Chili — dietary staple, common forms, and derivatives in Texas abound. I’m no slouch at making it myself, either. Guidelines for my chili are here, here, and here.

CBQ’s chili is transcendental. I asked for the secret.

“No secret, we make it on the pit,” simply stated.

It is a rich mix of BBQ scraps, bits and pieces of the lord-only-knows what-all, simmered, and perfectly seasoned. I was envious of the seasoning, as they hit the sweet spot — not too hot, yet an authoritative burn. Smoky essence from the BBQ meats, too.

I got a couple of pints of chili to go, and even days later, it was exceptional, and there’s an X-Factor, too — no grease. Usually, my chili, for example, when it cools or gets refrigerated, or canned chili? Open that up? There’s that layer of orange, spice-laden grease. Not so with the CBQ Chili.

After a couple of visits, getting thoroughly hooked on the “Burnt Ends,” we asked about the Evil Disco Death Metal Fries, having looked at it before, and me, being an afficinado of varies Chili-Cheese fries. The Leo server, Leo is the best fire sign, said it was like Poontaine. Which lead to smirks, Sagittarius, and veiled references to Nashville.

“It’s only rock’n’roll,” is how that goes.

Fries, gravy, cheese. I was thoroughly underwhelmed by the plate, the gravy being the weakest point; however, adding the house “hot” BBQ sauce changed it. While I complained, I ate almost all of that plate of fries.

The brisket is turned to perfection, with nice bark and way better than most, possibly some of the finest BBQ in the state. Clearly superior to anything I’ve had by Austin in recent memory.

The chili is postively transcendant — perfects the balance with smoke and heat quotient.

The other item, truly sets the food apart? “Burnt Ends,” with the disclaimer, “when available,” or, “until supplies run out.” I’m not sure what part of the brisket it is, but the Burnt Ends are the best. Looks like steak tenders, or cubes of brisket, smoked until crisp on the outside, while remaining tender and juicy on the inside.

Worth getting up early, just to get there for the Burnt Ends, a tribute to the fine art and craft of smoking meat for public consumption.

Disco Death and BBQ Review

There’s a rock’n’roll theme that runs with the place, hard rock, mostly, lots of memorbila adorn the walls. Then there’s the side dishes. So far, there’s only one that is remarkable in both style, execution, and content: Fried Black–Eyed Peas. Fried with real bacon, and not ‘bacon bits,’ which, in turn, just makes this strange fusion food so much better.

Burnt ends and sides

Burnt ends and sides

Disco Death and BBQ Review

That final ingredient? BBQ Sauce. There’s a certain rock band that has a legal team that is “Sue Happy,” so the name of the sauce — it reflects a song by that band — the sauce goes by no name. However, that BBQ sauce, have to ask for the spicy, and it comes with a warning, but ask for it. Has Ghost Peppers in it. A typical jalapeno is under 8,000 Scoville Units while a Ghost Pepper requires gloves and goggles.

Hard to call it The Very Best in the World, but it so suits my cravings, it is quite good. It may not be for everyone, but for a true connoisseur of the heat versus sweetness versus tart versus perfect complement for smoked meat?

This one rocks.

Like any good BBQ sauce, though, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out, all the meats I’ve sampled at CBQ? All the meats are fine, naked. Good enough flavor so that a BBQ sauce is not required.

Which makes the spicy BBQ sauce that much more of a tasty treat.

— CBQ Smokehouse — in New Braunfels, Canyon Lake exit? Behind Bucky’s?


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