Barbecue is a craft. A ritual. It’s a long game that involves smoke, patience and likely a folding chair. Rooted in region, culture and community, each style of preparation carries its own flavor, technique and friendly rivalries. Call it barbecue, barbeque, BBQ or just ‘cue. It all counts, as long as it’s smoked. Not grilled, not rushed, and definitely not the kind of backyard affair where the smoke comes from lighter fluid and someone’s forgotten the buns. [Photo above courtesy of Flosa’s Barbecue, by Cyr Beckley]
Two main styles dominate the smokers in Central Oregon: the stripped-down steeze of Texas, and the saucy, soul-fed traditions of the South. Sure, sauce always plays a role, but it’s never the whole story. Each style has been honored and reimagined by seasoned pitmasters with something to say, preferably from behind a smoker the size of a small boat.
Texas BBQ: Meat, Salt, Smoke, Done
If barbecue had swagger and a pair of cowboy boots, it’d be Texas-style. The approach is bold, straightforward and obsessed with beef—especially brisket. Sliced thick, seasoned with little more than salt and defiance, it’s coaxed over smoke until it yields like butter. Sauce is an afterthought, the meat is meant to hold its own.
That philosophy anchors Flosa’s Barbecue, a roving operation from chef-owners Jordan Grosser and Mark Goodger which treats Central Texas barbecue as a blueprint and a springboard. “We want to be playful all the time,” said Grosser. A permanent home is on the way, but for now, Flosa’s is popping up across Central Oregon with smoke, soul and a few clever surprises. The brisket is textbook perfection, smoked over Oregon oak in a 24-foot Moberg offset smoker until the bark crackles and the inside is so tender a fork feels like overkill. Beef cheeks get a 10-hour smoke-and-bathe treatment in tallow, while pork belly burnt ends are served with a whisper of Szechuan spice. The sweet potato salad isn’t afraid to wander from its picnic-table roots. And the pudding is so satisfying that it earned the nickname “Banana Crack.”
Pop’s Southern BBQ might nod to the South in name, but this Ponch’s Place food truck brings pure Texas style. Pop (real name John) seasons, smokes and serves with quiet authority. He can allegedly lift a brisket and know, by weight alone, how much time it has left, down to the minute. Ribs, chili and hearty grits round out a menu where tradition runs deep. Tucked inside Cross-Eyed Cricket, Hattie’s BBQ keeps things Central Texas pure: smoke in the air, salt on the fingers and meat that barely needs a blade. The team grinds its own sausage, makes its own sauces and rotates fun specials like smoked Loco Moco or adobo ribeye tacos. Prineville’s Renegades BBQ is literally throwing logs on the fire. They use local juniper wood to smoke their meat, turning out brisket, tri-tip and ribs with an unmistakable high desert twang.
Southern BBQ: Low, Slow, Sauce, Soul
Southern barbecue is a patchwork of traditions pulled from porches, pit shacks and Sunday suppers. Pork usually takes the lead, supported by beef, chicken and ribs. If Texas BBQ is the strong, silent type, Southern-style hums a tune while stirring the pot.
At Craft Kitchen and Brewery, the smoke rises early and stays late. Co-owners Courtney and Mark Stevens built the place piece by piece, fueled by beer and smoke-thick hours. Courtney grew up in Atlanta, where barbecue wasn’t just something you ate, it was something you lived.
“Football, tailgating and barbecue were the holy trinity,” she said. That same spirit is woven through Craft Kitchen’s menu, where standout ingredients do most of the preaching. “Start with the best stuff and let the smoke do its work,” Courtney continued.
The Southern Pride smoker, packed with orchard wood, hums nearly around the clock. Pulled pork is almost a two-day process. Brisket is seasoned with salt and pepper only. Burnt ends, carved from the crusty, fatty point of the brisket, are fall-apart succulent and gone in the blink of an eye. The vibe leans cozy and communal, with housemade sauces on every table and cold beer, such as Craft’s Driftwood Lager, to complement the ‘cue.
Baldy’s Barbeque, a longtime local favorite, turns out slow-smoked classics across three locations in Central Oregon. Baby Back Ribs are a fall-off-the-bone specialty, spice rubbed and basted in Baldy’s award-winning sauce. The BBQ Sundae, a layered bowl of mashed potatoes, baked beans, pulled pork, slaw and a drizzle of sauce, is pure comfort food chaos. Curbbq keeps the rules loose, blending barbecue traditions from everywhere worth tasting. Then there’s West Coast BBQ. No strict lanes, just whatever tastes good over smoke. Its brisket grilled cheese is legendary: melted cheese on crunchy sourdough and dipped in a secret-recipe chipotle BBQ sauce.
Barbecue isn’t just a meal. It’s a fire-lit, slow-built, deeply human kind of alchemy. Gone in a few grateful bites and totally worth it. As for picking a side, Texas swagger or saucy Southern soul, let’s just say it’s a delicious problem to have.
