It’s been since our Christmas dinner at Jamil's that I last broke meat with my good friend and immediate boss Patrick.
While coming up with a list of places to visit, within mere seconds he told me about a newish big time Texas-style barbecue joint in the repurposed part of town with something called the “Hot Gut Sausage” that I desperately needed to try.
Fuck. Yeah.
The next day, Patrick, my girlfriend and I waited outside of Edge Craft Barbecue, 1920 Linwood Blvd., at around 10:45 a.m. for the place to open up.
Patrick and I shot the shit about recent developments in our lives and so on but, as soon as they opened the steel door a few minutes after 11:00, the savages rushed inside, all wanting the tastes I had heard rumblings about.
At the counter, I ordered a silver tray of food from the man who guarded the meats for me and the girlfriend to share. I chose the Three Meat Special ($30.00) with Moist “All Natural” Brisket, Pork Ribs, and the one item I really wanted, the Hot Gut Sausage.
For the two accompanying sides, I had the Brussels Sprouts and the Corn Bread Pudding, mostly for roughage.
While scooting down the line to let Patrick place his order, I noticed they had Lone Star Beer in the can. It's the only beer I care for—especially with Texas barbecue. It's inexpensive, watered down, and had no real taste – exactly how I like it.
Patrick went with the two-meat plate with a leaner-version Brisket and the same pork ribs. He chose Fried Okra and Red Beans and Rice as his side pieces.
While Patrick mozied around the joint grabbing prerequisite napkins and banging his fist on a stubborn ice machine, I grabbed a seat, yelped a “Yee-haw!” to the frightened customers, and devoured a slice of the juicy brisket. I then promptly washed it down with a long drink of beer.
As the strenuous cloud of dynamite flavor pursed my quivering lips, I was promptly saturated with smokey meat and the spicy sauce. With every bite, the saucy muscles of the delicious brisket filled my belly, but I had to stop because the ribs were calling my name.
Without a doubt, the Pork Ribs were everything.
Sliding sexually off the rib bone in the best way, the charred meat and the still-spicy sauce enveloped my hands and, even worse, my whole mouth. Covered with the sticky sauce, I quickly digested them.
Next time, I will have to contend with the Texas-Size Beef Ribs—available only on Saturday and by the pound. Save me a seat and to-go box, please.
Taking another sip of my Lone Star, I had the tangy, dirty, and charred Brussel Sprouts, and they were quite emboldening—but it was the Corn Bread Pudding that punched my cow!
A mixture of sweet, buttery cornbread, tussled with actual fluffy corn-kernels, it was a true testament to down-home barbecue sides.
But enough of that now—now was the time I had been waiting for since yesterday afternoon: the Hot Gut Sausage.
While the name conjures the sweetest heat and the sickest stomach possible, I took a sliver of the gut and it tasted like the most premium sausage from heaven. After another bite, my belly rumbled and then the heat came, burning like a book of hot matches.
It took another long swallow of Lone Star to settle it down, but it was the best sausage I ever had, fucking period.
With my cooled tastebuds wanting an effortless sweet treat, Edge Craft offered the flame-retardant Banana Pudding ($4.00). So creamy and sweet, it provided ample relief.
As the afternoon waned and the last bites of banana pudding dissolved on our tongues, I leaned back, sated and slightly overwhelmed by the culinary rollercoaster we'd just ridden.
Patrick, ever the pragmatist, noted it was time to head out, but not before we promised to make these meet ups (meat ups?) a regular quarterly adventure.
Cómpralo ya!
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Follow Louis Fowler on Instagram at @louisfowler78.
