The Best Barbecue in the United States

Brisket exists here, but only on Fridays, which tells you something about a barbecue joint's confidence. LeRoy and Lewis is a new-school BBQ shop in Garrison Park, run by two couples who built it from a food truck into a Michelin-starred spot with glazed brick walls and a peaked roof. The menu leans into beef cheeks, rotating sausages, and whatever specials the week demands, with banana pudding tiramisu for anyone who needed proof this isn't a traditionalist operation.

Red oak smoke colors the brisket a distinct hue that regulars clock before they even pick up a tray. This Michelin-starred barbecue spot in Spring runs Tuesday through Saturday until sellout, so the line forms before the doors open at eleven, and regulars order ahead. Creekstone Farms prime cuts and beef ribs that somehow justify a forty-minute drive from Houston are why Texas Monthly put it on their list of the state's fifty best BBQ joints.

A massive, custom-built pit dominates the backyard of this East Austin BBQ shop, and the line that snakes toward it on any given afternoon is its own kind of argument. The brisket arrives at the counter still warm enough to stop you mid-sentence, and the house-made sausages and ribs don't ask permission either. Tammy Wynette on the speakers, kimchi and chipotle slaw in the case. La Barbecue holds a Michelin star.

The neon-lit entrance hallway hits you with subwoofer bass before you've seen a single menu, which tells you exactly where the priorities lie. COTE is a Korean steakhouse in Miami's Design District, holding a Michelin star, where whole cuts of dry-aged beef are displayed like sculpture before they hit your tabletop grill. The servers know the room cold, the banchan is thoughtful, and the kimchi Wagyu paella has apparently earned its own fan club.

The line forms before the door swings open, which tells you most of what you need to know about this BBQ shop in a strip mall off 620. Pitmaster John Bates runs brisket over post oak low and slow, and the sides, particularly the smoked scalloped potatoes and poblano creamed corn, get taken just as seriously. A Michelin star, which no one saw coming from a strip mall, arrived anyway.

Post oak from nearby farms fuels the pits at this Fort Worth BBQ shop, open just a few days a week until the meat runs out, which it does. The young crew behind Goldee's earned a Michelin Bib Gourmand and landed at number three on Texas Monthly's 50 Best BBQ Joints, so the line forms early and long. Black Angus brisket, cooked low and slow, is the draw; the sweet-tart mustard sauce alongside it is quietly non-negotiable.

The line outside this Austin BBQ shop starts forming before most people have had breakfast, which tells you something. Inside, corrugated metal and cement floors keep things honest while the board above the counter does all the talking: brisket, ribs, sausage, pulled pork, turkey. The brisket comes sliced to order, weighed, wrapped in butcher paper, and set on a blue tray. The Michelin Guide gave it a Bib Gourmand, which is a polite way of saying the wait isn't the punishment it sounds like.

The pastrami gets brined, pepper-and-coriander rubbed, and smoked before it lands on house-made rye sourdough at this Mueller BBQ shop and deli. Texas Monthly and the New York Times have both taken notice, and the James Beard committee named the team a semifinalist. Concrete floors, wooden-slat booths, and a menu that wanders happily between brisket by the pound and matzoh ball soup. No fuss about it.

Barbs B Q is a weekend-only BBQ shop in Lockhart that draws hours-long lines on Saturdays and Sundays, which is the only time the pitmaster opens the doors. The compact menu runs classic smoked meats with unexpected turns, like pork ribs finished with lime zest and turkey with a black pepper rub. Texas Monthly, Bon Appétit, and the New York Times have all taken notice, and the Michelin Guide awards it a Bib Gourmand.

The smoke from California white oak drifts into the parking lot long before you reach the door, which is by design and also a warning to arrive early. Heritage is a Texas barbecue shop in San Juan Capistrano where the line forms fast and brisket runs out faster. The chef earned a James Beard nomination and a Michelin Bib Gourmand, and the trays of charred, glistening meat make both feel self-explanatory. Save room for the banana pudding.

The line forms before the doors open, which has been the rhythm at this Seguin BBQ shop since Ernest Servantes and Dave Kirkland, both decorated in the competition circuit, opened together. The industrial room with iron beams and exposed brick fills fast. Brisket, ribs, and sausage lean toward tender and lightly smoked rather than aggressively bark-forward. A Michelin Bib Gourmand and a James Beard nomination keep the queue honest.

A counter-service BBQ spot in suburban Maryland where the American Wagyu brisket is buttery enough to stop conversation mid-sentence. The smoked turkey and peppery pork ribs fill out a tray you'll keep adding to despite your better judgment, and the sides, brisket-studded beans included, pull their weight. Lines form fast, so regulars often grab their bags and go. A James Beard semifinalist, and ranked tenth on Washingtonian's top 100.

The American Wagyu brisket is the kind of thing that makes you briefly reconsider your whole life. This counter-service BBQ spot smokes everything over wood, and the lineup, brisket, pork ribs, and smoked turkey, has the room packed early and the bags out the door fast. The sides pull their weight too, particularly the brisket-studded beans. A James Beard semifinalist in 2026, it ranked tenth on Washingtonian's list that same year.

East Texas-style barbecue joint that also does breakfast, which tells you something about how seriously Houston takes its mornings. The smoker runs through brisket, ribs, sausage, turkey, and chicken, and the sides, dirty rice and baked beans among them, hold their own. The chef was a James Beard semifinalist in 2023. Been a neighborhood staple long enough that ordering without looking at the menu is a point of local pride.

The tater tot casserole with fried onions has its own reputation at this Houston Heights BBQ shop, which is saying something given the brisket. Pitmaster Leonard Botello IV runs a slick, polished counter operation that somehow still cooks like a roadside shack in the best possible sense. The Michelin Guide awarded it a Bib Gourmand. Arrive early; the sausages sell out, and the line is serious before the doors even open.

A Creole barbecue trailer parked behind a kolache shop is either a strange detour or exactly the point, and at Parish it's the point. Cajun spice rubs and Tabasco glazes nudge central Texas classics sideways, and the menu runs past brisket into pulled duck and boudin. Sides like pimento mac topped with Zapp's chips and crawfish cornbread stuffing do their own convincing. The Michelin Guide awarded it a Bib Gourmand.

A Michelin Bib Gourmand BBQ truck parked next to Oddwood Brewing, where the line forms early and the menu swings between Texas smoke and Cairo spice. The chef traded a finance career for a pit, and the result is brisket country seasoned with sumac, cinnamon, and pomegranate. Texas Monthly named it among the state's best BBQ joints, and the crowd agrees, loudly, with their mouths full.

A mural of a steer over the parking lot reads "All Hail the King," which tells you everything about the mood inside this Texas-style BBQ shop in Charleston. John Lewis made his name at LA Barbecue in Austin, and the brisket he slices to order at the counter explains why. Picnic tables on a gravel patio, firewood stacked ceiling-high, and a permanent haze of smoke round out the scene. The Michelin Guide gave it a Bib Gourmand.

The deer heads on the walls outnumber the menu items, which is saying something at this Houston BBQ shop where the beef rib routinely sells out before noon. Pitmaster Grant Pinkerton earned a Michelin Bib Gourmand and a spot on Texas Monthly's 50 Best list, and Bill Gates has reportedly made the pilgrimage. You queue past the slicing station, grab a tray, and try not to overthink it. The smoked bread pudding is not a joke.

The line wrapping around the building is the first sign; the smell of oak and hickory smoke is the second. Cattleack is a beloved Dallas BBQ shop with a Michelin Bib Gourmand and a spot on Texas Monthly's 50 best list, where pitmaster Andrew Castelan runs brisket and pork ribs as the anchors but keeps daily specials, like wagyu pastrami brisket, for the regulars who know to look. Tangy house sauce sits on every table, not because the meat needs it.

A renovated gas station surrounded by cornfields is not where most people expect to find a Texas-style barbecue joint worth a half-hour drive, but here we are. The pit runs daily, turning out brisket, pulled pork, double-smoked sausage, and ribs, with sides like campground beans and pimento cheese pasta salad filling the gaps. USA Today named it a Restaurant of the Year.

The line forms before the doors open at this Texas-style BBQ shop, and a strip of tape slapped over a sold-out item on the menu board is a genuine source of anxiety by the time you reach the counter. The team came up out of competitive barbecue, and the Hill Country influences show in the smoke. A James Beard semifinalist in 2026, the place draws a crowd happy to stand outside in the Phoenix heat for brisket and jalapeño cheddar grits.

The line forms before the doors open at eleven, and the crowd moves fast through what was once Pearland's first school cafeteria. This is a serious Texas barbecue joint with a Michelin Bib Gourmand, where the beef rib comes off the smoker out back with a crust of salt and pepper and a give that a spoon could handle. The pork belly burnt ends in pepper jelly sauce are the kind of thing your cardiologist would prefer you not know about.

Pitmaster Hector Garate smokes whole hog and beef cheeks through a Puerto Rican lens, and the result is a barbecue joint that feels like its own category. The beef cheek tacos landed on a New York Times list of the year's best dishes across the country, and the Chuleta Kan-Kan, a tomahawk pork chop, makes a strong case for its own recognition. Bring friends, bring an appetite, and don't plan anything strenuous afterward.

The counter shares a wall with a liquor store, which tells you everything about the vibe before you've even ordered. This Korean-Southern BBQ shop smokes brisket low and slow while reaching for gochujang, turning out pork braised in a sweet-spicy sauce that's become the calling card. The green tomato kimchi with jalapeños and radish is the kind of detour a traditionalist might distrust until they taste it. A Michelin Bib Gourmand, and the line moves fast.

Two brothers run this Texas BBQ shop near the stadium, open only Thursday through Saturday, which keeps the line long and the brisket moving fast. The setup is classic smoke-and-queue, but house-made flour tortillas stand in for white bread, and the sides swing toward poblano mac and cheese and okra-laced beans. Texas Monthly named it one of the state's 50 best BBQ joints, which the regulars already knew.

Salt-and-pepper-crusted brisket smoked in the Austin tradition is the reason people line up at this Lincoln Heights barbecue shop. What started as a weekend backyard hobby grew into a proper room with a craft beer bar to keep you company while you wait. The Michelin Bib Gourmand is on record, and the James Beard committee has taken notice too. Come early; things sell out, and "we ran out" is the one review nobody wants.

Beets buried under coals for eight hours is either an act of patience or a personality disorder, and at Francis Mallmann's open-fire Argentine steakhouse inside the Faena Hotel, it reads as both. The room commits fully: leopard-print booths, red cushions, gold on everything. The asado is serious, the proteins are large, and the bar at the far end fills with people dressed for exactly this kind of place.

The line outside most mornings tells you what kind of place this is before you even smell the smoke. Little Miss BBQ is a Central Texas-style barbecue shop where the brisket gets sliced to order with a thick smoke ring, and the Thursday-only pastrami runs a deep, almost beet-red from its pepper rub. The Michelin Guide gave it a Bib Gourmand, and the team behind it earned a James Beard semifinalist nod.

A trailer parked beside a gas station on the highway, picnic tables only, no dining room in sight. That's the full setup at this BBQ shop in Spring, and Texas Monthly put it on their list of the state's 50 best joints anyway. The Michelin Guide added a Bib Gourmand, which is the kind of thing that happens when the brisket is smoked right. Check their social before you go; the daily specials move fast.

Smoked brisket finished with awaze, an Ethiopian spice sauce, is the move that separates this casual Arlington barbecue joint from every other spot selling half-pounds off butcher paper. The team built it from a trailer smoker and weekend pop-ups into something the New York Times noticed and a James Beard semifinalist nod confirmed. Order a platter if you want range, and reach past the mac and cheese toward the lentil stews.

Two stone lions guard the front door of this North Charleston BBQ shop, which should tell you something about how the team does things. Meat by the pound is the move, built around shared combos that draw on both North Carolina Piedmont tradition and Chinese family-style dining. The hot pot collards keep people talking. Popular cuts like duck legs and ribs sell out, so arriving early is less a suggestion than a strategy.

Gochujang-glazed ribs sit a few trays down from the brisket at this Bellaire BBQ shop, which is pretty much the thesis statement. The three childhood friends behind Blood Bros. grew up in Alief absorbing Vietnamese, Chinese, Korean, and Mexican flavors alongside Texas smoke, and the menu shows it. The daily specials change constantly, so the table next to yours will almost always have something you didn't order. A Michelin Bib Gourmand and a James Beard nominee.

The pitmaster here started as a chocolatier, which is either the strangest origin story in Texas barbecue or proof that obsessive patience translates across crafts. This Tomball smokehouse draws lines out the door before it opens, with prime brisket and chile relleno sausage coming off pits stacked beside a cord of wood. The carrot soufflé, improbably, holds its own alongside everything else. A Michelin Bib Gourmand, and pre-orders are available if you'd rather not wait on the porch.

The oxtail gumbo here carries a whiff of hardwood smoke, which tells you everything about how this Beverly smokehouse operates. Sanders BBQ Supply Co. sits about twelve miles south of the Loop, deep in a neighborhood few tourists reach, doing the kind of slow, wood-fired barbecue that connects to Chicago's Great Migration roots. The New York Times put it on their 2025 restaurant list, and the pitmaster earned a James Beard semifinalist nod.

Damien Brockway runs a BBQ truck parked at Meanwhile Brewing, and the cooking draws on African diaspora traditions in ways that make the usual brisket-and-sausage spread feel like a starting point rather than the whole story. Pecan-smoked chicken and nose-to-tail restraint sit alongside rotating sides that shift the genre somewhere new. The Michelin Guide gave it a Bib Gourmand, and Brockway is a James Beard semifinalist. Come early, bring patience, leave with extra napkins.

Wild Fig is a no-frills BBQ takeout counter in Summerlin that started life as a commissary kitchen, and it still has the energy of one. The smoked pastrami goes toe to toe with the East Coast versions, and the pickles are homemade. Most of it sells out by mid-afternoon, so ordering ahead is the move. A few picnic tables face the parking lot, which the people eating there have decided not to mind.

The chef running this low-key Rainier Avenue to-go spot cut his teeth in the butcher shop that used to occupy the same building, and the meat knowledge shows. Brisket, burnt ends, and pull-apart pork ribs come with a choice of tomato-based house sauce or a Jamaican jerk concoction that starts complex and finishes hot. The New York Times named it among Seattle's 25 best restaurants. Save room for the rum cake.

Prime brisket with a peppery bark is the reason this Texas-style barbecue joint started as a food truck and has since moved twice to keep up with demand. The room runs to booths and picnic tables, road signs and Willie Nelson energy. Jalapeño sausage oozes cheese, the pulled pork is smoky, and the green bean side cooked with brisket has its own cult following. A Michelin Selected Restaurant, and the kind of place where strangers talk across tables.

The picadillo mac and cheese earned a shoutout from the New York Times, which tells you something about what this South Side BBQ counter is doing. Everything is cut and weighed market style, so you load your tray with brisket, turkey, and sides that lean hard into Mexican tradition: pickled nopales, street corn, chicharrón mac. A line forms early and moves slowly for good reason. Texas Monthly put it on their statewide list, and a James Beard semifinalist nod followed.

The flour tortillas at this Montrose smokehouse are made with smoked brisket fat, which tells you what kind of place The Pit Room is. It holds a Michelin Bib Gourmand and earns it on the basics: prime brisket, beef ribs, and sides that actually have opinions, like charred beans with real heat. Breakfast tacos run until mid-morning. In a city where great barbecue often requires a calendar, the fact that the line moves and seating exists feels almost radical.

DCity Smokehouse is a counter-service barbecue spot on Good Hope Road, and its smoked wings are the ones that end the dry-rub versus saucy argument. The skin comes crisp, seasoned with a house blend that lands somewhere between salty and sweet, and every sauce arrives on the side, including a cilantro ranch and a Carolina-meets-mumbo mix that is very much a DC compromise. Bring the friend who has opinions.

Two Goose is a counter-service barbecue market on North Lamar that understands Austin's two great loves, brisket and breakfast tacos, and quietly introduces them in burrito form. The Big Honkin' Burrito packs soft eggs, potatoes, cheese, and falling-apart brisket into a tortilla roughly the size of a throw pillow, with a cup of spicy Sunrise sauce on the side. Come hungry, and plan on a nap.

Jasmine fried rice loaded with fried egg and Chinese sausage arrives under two thick slabs of smoked brisket, which is the entire thesis of this family-run barbecue spot on Highway 6. The chef turned a backyard hobby into a line that wraps around the parking lot, and the crowd moves through faster than you'd expect. Pork ribs get the same patient smoke treatment. This is the kind of place where ordering anything else feels like a distraction.

A BBQ truck parked on the Radio Coffee lot that builds its whole identity around biscuits, with Michelin's Bib Gourmand and a Texas Monthly top-50 BBQ spot to back it up. The menu runs from brisket on a flaky biscuit with smoked strawberry jam to pork belly with spiced apple pear preserves, plus fried chicken, wings, and pimento cheese grits. A QR code and call-ahead option keep the line honest, which you'll appreciate.

A Texas pitmaster who traded the Lone Star State for North Carolina opened this barbecue spot just east of Raleigh, and the brisket draws a line before the doors open. Order by weight or go the meat-and-two route with sides. Saturday's chopped whole hog lechon is the day's main event. It holds a Michelin Bib Gourmand and a James Beard semifinalist nod. When they're out, they're done, so sleeping in is not the move.

The hogfat cornbread alone tells you something about how seriously this Spring Branch barbecue spot takes its sides. Smoked meats are the main event, but the menu stretches into smoked wings, a cheeseburger that gets its own devoted following, and unconventional sides like sweet-and-spicy Brussels sprouts and pimento mac and cheese. There's a full bar and a small outdoor play area, which makes Wednesday's kids-eat-free, half-off-wine deal feel almost too well-considered.

A mural of an angry steer watches over the counter at this Oakland BBQ shop, and the vibe tracks: the pits here are serious. Matt Horn calls it West Coast Barbecue, which means brisket, pulled pork, and sausages on butcher paper with sides like pit beans and Granny's potatoes. Lines form early and stay long. The Michelin Guide gave it a Bib Gourmand, and it landed a James Beard nomination for Best New Restaurant.

The menu is written on butcher paper, the floors are concrete, and the white bread is made in-house and served alongside your tray, which is how Central Texas does it. This no-frills BBQ shop off Curry Ford Road holds a Michelin Bib Gourmand for the kind of smoke-forward brisket and pork ribs that don't need explanation. The jalapeño-cheddar sausage and collard greens with garlic are the sides people come back to argue about.

Two weathered smokers parked out front do most of the explaining at this Las Vegas Arts District BBQ shop. Bruce Kalman, better known for fine dining, runs the pits here, pulling from central Texas brisket to Carolina pulled pork to St. Louis ribs without the whole thing feeling like a textbook. Live music fills the room most nights, giving the place the energy of a honky-tonk that happens to take smoke seriously. A Michelin Selected Restaurant.

Korean-style tabletop grills sit at the center of every table, and you cook your own pork bulgogi or galbi short rib over them while the kitchen handles everything else. The menu is part Korean family dinner, part Pacific Rim wandering, all shaped by chef Ben Alexander's own biography. A James Beard semifinalist, he also offers an omakase if you'd rather hand the decisions over entirely, which, given the range on offer, is not a bad idea.

A wool Mexican blanket hangs in the vestibule, which tells you most of what you need to know before you've even ordered. Terlingua is a neighborhood barbecue shop where the smoked meats drift Southwest and Caribbean, so the menu lands somewhere between Texas pit stop and something you'd find closer to the Gulf. The polished concrete bar fills fast, the cornbread has jalapeño and honey, and breakfast runs all day.

Four custom-built smokers anchor this sprawling East End barbecue joint, which runs a Tex-Mex menu alongside the classic Texas lineup so you can follow brisket enchiladas with a meat plate and call it research. There's a beer garden and live music too, which means an afternoon here has a way of becoming an evening. The Michelin Guide has it selected, and the Houston Chronicle put it on its top 100 list. Come with a plan, then abandon it at the counter.

A Mexican-American BBQ joint in the Overland neighborhood where pork ribs get the al pastor treatment and brisket ends up in tacos. The collaboration between a Mexican-born chef and a pitmaster sounds like a concept pitch, but the salsa macha coleslaw and dulce de leche key lime pie make the case on the plate. Cold beer, a cucumber margarita with some heat, and sweet tea round out a menu that knows exactly what it is.

Wood smoke hits you on Van Brunt Street before the warehouse comes into view, which is a useful heads-up to adjust your plans for the rest of the day. This Red Hook BBQ shop runs counter service out of a sprawling industrial space with communal tables, where the brisket has the smoke ring to back up the reputation. The Michelin Bib Gourmand is on record, and the banana pudding tends to disappear fast.

A cooler of free beer greets the line outside this Saturday-only BBQ shop, which tells you almost everything about the vibe. The chef, a 2025 James Beard nominee who landed on the New York Times Restaurant List, does South Carolina chopped pork with cracklings folded in, plus Hill Country sausages and beef ribs that disappear before noon. Show up early or recalibrate your weekend plans accordingly.

Halal Texas-style barbecue and Indonesian cooking share a menu here, which sounds like a provocation until you taste it. The team built a following through pandemic-era pop-ups before settling into a brick storefront in Alameda, where brisket and smoked ribs coexist with Sumatran noodle soup and smoked fried chicken in balado sauce. The New York Times and Eater both took notice in 2024, and a James Beard semifinalist nod followed. The wait can stretch to two hours, so plan accordingly.

Fort Worth's nickname spawned this BBQ shop, which started as a food truck before graduating to a spot with both indoor and outdoor seating. Central Texas-style offset smoking is the foundation, but the menu slides comfortably into Tex-Mex territory with brisket burritos and street tacos. Arrive early, because the lines are not theoretical. Texas Monthly named it among the 50 best BBQ joints in the state.

The menu lives on a board, the pits run on post oak and mesquite, and the building used to sell gasoline. This is a barbecue counter in a converted gas station on Loop 410, and it's been going strong for decades. All meat is cut to order, the brisket sandwich arrives on cottony white bread that's somehow exactly right, and Mimi's potato salad, a family recipe, is the side you don't skip. The Michelin Guide has it listed.

Pappy's is a midtown barbecue spot built around pork ribs, dry-rubbed, smoked low and slow over fruitwood, and finished with just a whisper of glaze, no sauce pooling anywhere near them. The classic sides, baked beans, fried corn, applesauce, hold their own beside all that smoke. Lines form early and move steadily, which tells you something about how St. Louis feels about this place.

The red weathervane out front reads "BBQ," which is all the signage a place like this needs. Walk past the giant mesquite smokers on your way in and you'll already be hungry before you hit the counter. This Gilbert BBQ shop does Texas-style brisket with a coarse peppercorn crust, served by the pound on tin trays at wooden picnic tables. Order early; the popular cuts sell out, and nobody drives out near Mesa Gateway Airport to settle for sides.

EEM is a Thai restaurant that also happens to run a Texas barbecue pit, which is the kind of sentence that sounds like a dare and somehow works. Brisket burnt ends land in coconut curry, and the BBQ fried rice arrives with plenty of heat. You eat at sidewalk huts or in the café-bar, pay prices that stay friendly, and tackle the tropical drinks with the urgency of people who parked six blocks away.

Caribbean spices do the work that Texas smoke usually handles at this Coconut Grove barbecue spot, where the brisket runs 14 to 16 hours and the spare ribs come jerk-seasoned. The team also runs the fine-dining restaurants Kyu and Shiso, and the patience shows in the supporting cast too: collards, baked beans, cornbread made from fresh-shucked corn. The open courtyard under the hammocks makes a strong argument for ordering an old-fashioned alongside.

Smoke from the wood-fired grill drifts through the long dining room before you've even sat down. R40 is a proper Argentinian parilla in Long Island City, all exposed brick, sleek wood, and trailing greenery, with a patio out back when the weather cooperates. The menu is built for sharing: empanadas stuffed with filet mignon and raisins, skirt steak with chimichurri, and a combination platter of steak, ribs, chorizo, and sweetbreads for the committed.

Rollin Smoke is a casual barbecue counter where hickory-smoked meats share the plate with hush puppies, fried okra, and dirty rice. The outlaw burger comes stacked so high with brisket, onion strings, and slaw that eating it politely is a rumor, and a sauce bar lets you add a Carolina vinegar squirt anyway. Picnic tables and a mural of a pastoral landscape do the decorating, which seems about right.

The smoke here is the point, not the backdrop. This fast-casual BBQ counter inside the Source Hotel takes an Austin-leaning approach to brisket and jalapeño cheddar sausage, where the smoke reads as seasoning rather than spectacle. The Nashville hot chicken sandwich has its loyalists too. Sides like slaw and mac and cheese are present and accounted for, though nobody's lining up for them. The Michelin Guide has it on their list, if that helps calibrate expectations.

The brisket comes sliced on butcher paper at this East Austin BBQ shop, where the pit crew turns out central Texas smoke across ribs, sausage, pulled pork, and lamb. The sides pull their own weight, especially a potato salad dressed with cider vinegar that has no business being this good. Save room for banana pudding, or don't, it's your afternoon. A Michelin Bib Gourmand, and the line outside tells you everything else.

A hulking beef rib crusted with salt and pepper, served in a warehouse the size of a small airport, is your first clue that this isn't Miami's usual scene. Pitmaster Bill Durney's Brooklyn original comes to the Miami Produce Center, where forklifts idle outside and the smell of smoke drifts past a long bar and open kitchen. The Michelin Bib Gourmand BBQ shop does brisket that would hold its own in Texas, with yucca bowls on the side for local color.

A Texas-style barbecue spot on an empty stretch of highway past the train tracks in Pocahontas, where the meats come by the half pound and the brisket arrives with the kind of charred bark that makes a strong argument for skipping the burger menu. The pork butt takes on a Carolina mustard sauce without complaint. Sides carry their weight. A big patio makes it easy for families. Michelin Bib Gourmand.

Whole hog over burning embers, chopped, and finished with a vinegar sauce sharp enough to cut the richness: this is Eastern North Carolina barbecue done the old way, at a downtown Raleigh counter-service spot that earned a Michelin Bib Gourmand. The family even brews the beer on tap. Expect a line on busy days, and plan to eat in, because the room has a friendliness that takeout can't package.

The smoke hits you before the door does, which is about right for a Southern steakhouse built inside a former church in Plaza Midwood. The wood-fired range dominates the room, and prime meats and fish come off the embers in cuts meant for the table to share. The sides hold their own alongside anything off the fire. A Michelin Selected pick, it also draws a cocktail following serious enough to earn an Esquire nod.

Tucked into a South Miami-Dade golf course in a way that makes zero sense until you smell the smoke, Apocalypse BBQ is a bare-bones barbecue shop with a no-phone, no-takeout policy and a cult following to match. The menu leans Miami: cafecito ribs, brisket bacon, wild boar burgers. The wait is long, the free beer while you stand in line is a nice consolation, and the skull-shaped cornbread drizzled with hot honey is not subtle about what kind of place this is.

Pillowy housemade flour tortillas wrapped around smoked meats are the whole argument here. Matt Vicedomini built his name on Texas-style barbecue, and Texas Monthly noticed, but this casual taco counter is where that smoked-meat skill gets genuinely interesting. Pork belly with guacamole and pickled onions, brisket in the breakfast tacos available all day, smoked mushroom fajitas for the non-meat crowd. Bon Appétit named it one of America's Best New Restaurants.

A whole leg of jamón ibérico mounted on a carving stand anchors the room, which tells you most of what you need to know. This is Jose Andres's live-fire steak counter inside Mercado Little Spain at Hudson Yards, built around a wood-burning Basque-style grill. The steaks are the point, though the carnivorous atmosphere is half the meal. Somehow it also manages to be family-friendly without feeling like a concession, which in Manhattan is its own quiet trick.

A covered patio overlooking the San Sebastian River sets the mood at this Argentinian grill, where the menu orbits fire and meat in the way that approach always promises it will. Steaks anchor the menu, from flat iron to porterhouse, but the smoked fish dip makes a convincing case for slowing down before the main event. Citrus olive oil cake closes things out without overshooting into sweetness.

A BBQ shop inside a historic railroad station in El Granada, ten minutes up the coast from Half Moon Bay. The room leans into a coastal cowboy aesthetic, which sounds like a contradiction until you're sitting in it. Slow-smoked brisket, pork ribs, and spicy sausage links are the reason to come, and the chili braised in smoked pork stock is the reason to stay a little longer than you planned.

A BBQ trailer parked on a working farm outside Cary, open only Thursday through Saturday, which is either an inconvenience or a reason to plan your whole week around it. Brothers run the pit, selling smoked brisket and ribs by the weight at picnic tables. The house-made sausages quietly compete with the brisket for your attention. Come with patience for the queue and a backup plan if it rains.

The smoke hits you before the parking lot does. This Miramar Beach counter-service barbecue joint runs Texas-style, meaning you queue, order, and wait for your name while the pit does the talking. The green chili cheese sausage is the thing to get, a fat link studded with peppers and molten cheese pockets. Smoked turkey with black pepper rub and a baked potato casserole round out a tray that makes the drive from anywhere on the Emerald Coast feel like a reasonable idea.

The smoker sits in the front yard, doing its advertising before you've even parked. This Long Meadow Ranch farmhouse is a barbecue and wine country restaurant with a cathedral ceiling, old-school country music, and the kind of boisterous locals who make Napa feel briefly un-precious. The ranch supplies much of what lands on the table, and on weekends the produce stands outside mean you can take some of it home.