Regional US Cuisine

We started west of the Mississippi, examining Texas- and Kansas City-style barbecue, then moved onto the Bluff City, Memphis, for its take on slow-smoked meat. Now we've hit the Atlantic coastline for a cool sea breeze and an overview on North Carolina's smoky eats.

You may have heard that Carolinians distinguish between barbecue from the East and barbecue from the West. Two characteristics hold true for traditional barbecue from either place: in a region where the cattle industry struggled, pork is king, and it's usually served pulled and/or chopped into juicy, bite-sized morsels (often to serve in a sandwich topped with coleslaw). But here the similarities end. Eastern Carolina barbecue uses the whole hog, and then the tender meat is pulled off the carcass to be chopped. While smoking, the meat is mopped with a salted and spiced vinegar mixture to hydrate and season the meat.

Western Carolina-style barbecue (sometimes known as Lexington-style) uses the pork shoulder, a fatty cut of meat, and tends to be moister than the mix of meats in barbecue from the East. Here, the sauce is tomato- or ketchup-based, and restaurants serve up what's known locally as "the brown": the meat exposed to the wood coal smoke on the outside of the shoulder cut.

Expect your barbecue plate to come with a tangy vinegar-based slaw, some piping hot hush puppies, and a heaping serving of pride. Have you tried either style of North Carolina barbecue? Did you have a preference?

Source: Flickr user Southern Foodways Alliance

After passing through Texas and Missouri on our culinary tour of this nation's iconic barbecue regions, we're proceeding southeast to Tennessee, where Memphis is the capital of this state's meat smoking tradition. Famous for its pork ribs and pulled-pork sandwiches, Memphis boasts a number of world-class smokehouses that give nearby Graceland a run for its money in the popularity contest.

While it's known for its incredibly flavorful dry rub, adherents to this style of barbecue will tell you that most of the flavor comes from the high-quality meat and the slow smoking process, which result in delicious, tender meat even without seasonings. But don't discount the sauce! If you order a rack of ribs, many spots will provide a thin, tangy, tomato-and-vinegar-based sauce — on the side, mind you. This pungent, pucker-inducing dressing will also come drizzled across your pulled-pork sandwich.

These days, Memphis barbecue has hit the mainstream with local restaurateurs Pat and Gina Neely exploding as Food Network celebrities and Justin Timberlake planning to expand his Southern Hospitality barbecue restaurants nationwide. While in Knoxville to watch a University of Tennessee football game, my husband experienced some Southern hospitality of his own when a Vols fan invited him to a true Tennessee-style tailgate barbecue. His take? The best smoked meat he's ever had. Have you tried Memphis-style barbecue? What was your impression?

Source: Flickr User miss-britt

Certain regions of this country are fiercely loyal to their particular style of barbecue, and Missouri is no exception. The fine city of Kansas City is the birthplace of dry-rubbed barbecue drizzled in a mouthwatering tomato-molasses sauce, and while restaurants here don't discriminate among types of meat (unlike Texas barbecue, pork, chicken, beef, and even turkey are fair game), no upstanding KC smoke joint goes without its own version of the sticky, finger-licking condiment.

It all got started in the early 20th century when Henry Perry opened a stand in downtown Kansas City to serve smoked meats to workers in the city's garment district. Enthusiastic eaters described his secret sauce as "harsh" and "peppery" and followed him throughout the city until he ultimately landed in a trolley barn in the 1920s. Arthur and Charlie Bryant took over the business upon Perry's death in 1946, when they added molasses to his blend to sweeten up the sauce. Today, Arthur Bryant's is still at the heart of Kansas City barbecue.

At modern-day Kansas City barbecue restaurants, you'll find ribs, chicken, brisket, links, and more served up next to coleslaw, potato salad, and baked beans. A delicacy particular to this style of barbecue is a sandwich of burnt ends: the flavorful, charred tips of the meat. And while the best-known mass-marketed sauce to get its start in this magnificent town is KC Masterpiece, most well-regarded barbecue establishments — from Arthur Bryant's to Gates & Sons to B.B.'s Lawnside BBQ — bottle and sell their own blends. Have you tried Kansas City-style barbecue? How does it stack up vs. its other regional brethren?

Source: Flickr User bk1bennett

We recently took a look at what barbecue meant across America, but, as a native Texan, I dare say that no state has more passion for barbecue than Texas.

I have fond memories of entering smoky barbecue joints, where I would make my meat selection, served casually on a styrofoam plate, then head over to the checkered cloth picnic tables, swinging my legs cautiously over the benches to slide into a small space in the crowded bench. I feasted on melt-in-your-mouth tender brisket with a caramelized, crunchy exterior. Depending on the joint, the brisket was either served with buttery green beans and mashed potatoes or sweet baked beans and cornbread. But one thing was for certain: it was much less about the sides, and all about the meat.

Texas barbecue originated in the 1850s; German and Czech settlers opened meat markets when they moved to the state and brought over their native practices of smoking leftover meats that hadn't been sold that day. It was a way of preserving the meat, and Texans took a major liking to it! Keep reading for more about the origins of Texas barbecue.

My Food Looks Funny just released an entertaining pictorial that represents what America produces and eats, state by state. Although a lot of them are pretty accurate, I'd say some are up for contention. (Jelly pie in Arkansas? I would've thought cheese dip.) What's your state's quintessential food?

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