"Chef's Table: BBQ": review

Rodney Scott's spare ribs

As I continue my exploration of the "Chef's Table" series on Netflix, I turn my attention to "Chef's Table: BBQ," a mini-docuseries about barbecue. This series has only four episodes, which strikes me as strange given the rich and varied landscape of barbecued foods. Two of the four episodes are devoted to what might be called recognizably orthodox American barbecue; the other two episodes are devoted to non-American barbecue. Those episodes take us to Australia and Mexico.

Episode 1, directed by Zia Mandviwalla, focuses on 85-year-old Tootsie Tomanetz, doyenne of Texas barbecue. The episode gives us a picture of Tootsie's hard life, including the loss of her husband and son (the latter died of brain cancer). Tootsie manages Snow's Barbecue in Lexington, Texas. Despite her age, she also moonlights as a janitor at a local high school. Tootsie struck me as adorable and huggable, and she definitely cooks a mean barbecue. One organization rated Snow's as Number 1 back in 2008, and that's what put her on the map. Her style of "hill-country barbecue" is loved by both the locals and her many far-flung visitors.

Episode 2, directed by Brian McGinn, takes us to Australia to meet English expat Lennox Hastie, a man who cooks everything in his restaurant by fire—no gas, no electricity. He emphasizes that working with fire means respecting it because it's always a dance: fire has a mind of its own and can easily escape your control if you're not mindful, so for Hastie, who comes off as almost autistically intense about his craft, cooking is a matter of constant mindfulness. Hastie adds that cooking with fire is an ancient human tradition, and he's doing his part to get people to feel that tradition in his food. Another interesting thing Hastie says is that, for him, seeing grill marks on anything is a sign of failure. That gave me pause: I find grill marks to be aesthetically charming. Hastie cooks anything and everything over fire, including salad greens. He spent several years in Spain under the watchful eye of Victor Arguinzonziz, from whom he gained his appreciation of fire. He and Victor had a falling out when Hastie decided to make his own way, but years later, after Hastie had begun winning awards, there was a reconciliation. Hastie owns and manages Firedoor in Sydney, Australia.

Episode 3, directed by Clay Jeter, gives us Rodney Scott, owner of Rodney Scott's Whole Hog Barbecue in Charleston, South Carolina. Rodney had a tough life working under his relentless taskmaster of a father, who taught him the art of whole-hog barbecue, which literally involves cooking the whole hog (minus the guts), then mixing the various cooked meats together to produce a symphony of flavor. One of the commentators on the episode contends that American barbecue probably originated in the Carolinas because that's where you see all of the sauces used across the United States. Rodney had a contentious relationship with his dad, especially once he started getting his own ideas of how to cook and how to run a restaurant. Despite the difficulties, he won a James Beard Award for his cooking and felt some vindication. He also stress the need to have a good work ethic: success comes from never giving up, and when you don't give up, you can accomplish anything.

Episode 4, the final episode in the series, takes us down south, beyond the border, to meet Mayan traditionalist Rosalía Chay Chuc, who runs Cochinita Pibil (essentially her house) in Yaxuná, Mexico. Rosalía is ethnically Mayan, and much of the episode is about her struggle to preserve Mayan traditions and culture. As modernity has swept across Mexico, bringing the internet and globalization to what used to be communities loosely interconnected by dirt roads, the old ways are getting lost in the shuffle. Rosalía (and the episode's other commentators) sees Mayan culture as underpinning Mexican culture. The episode features plenty of handmade tortillas, including something I'd never seen before: stuffed tortillas that reminded me strongly of a Korean street snack called hoddeok/호떡—fried pancakes filled with a sweet honey-cinnamon syrup and, often, crushed peanuts. The highlight of the episode is, of course, the cochinita pibil style of cooking, which involves digging a pit in the ground and layering it with hot coals to cook the meat marinated in an acidic sauce. Up to this point, you'd think this might be like a luau or a clam bake, but the meat is placed in a pot before being set on the coals. It sits in the pit all night, and the result is, from all accounts, fantastically tender and succulent. Rosalía wants her kids to learn everything she knows so as to preserve these Mayan traditions, but because her establishment suddenly exploded in popularity after being discovered by food critics, she now has a lot of help: many Mexicans have become interested in Mayan culture and food, and Rosalía is a big reason why.

All in all, these episodes were good. My hands-down favorite, though, is Episode 3, featuring Rodney Scott and his whole-hog barbecue. Eating that style of meat has now gone on my bucket list, and I have half a mind to make a pilgrimage to South Carolina expressly for that purpose: to visit the man's restaurant and do nothing but eat my way through his menu. I'd also like to meet Rodney and hear his story; from the documentary, he seems to be an impressive fellow. It could be, too, that I liked Episode 3 the most because it was the most relatable to me: it conformed to my expectation of what a barbecue is while also introducing me to something kind of new: whole-hog cooking. To be clear, I've seen whole-hog preparations before, but never in such loving detail. And that's another reason to like Episode 3: it features, for my money, the most actual cooking. The other episodes concentrate more on the personalities and a bit less on the styles (although the Hastie episode does feature plenty of the man's flame-broiled technique). So yeah, all in all, Rodney Scott gets my vote.

Although the episodes were good, I ended up thinking that, given the vast landscape that is barbecue across the world, way more could have been done. You've got the braai tradition in South Africa, and while Lennox Hastie's style is interesting, Australia on the whole is a massive barbecue culture—you could devote an entire series just to Australia. There's a lechón tradition in the Philippines, the Hawaiian luau and, depending on how you define "barbecue," a vast panoply of styles all over East Asia (Texans would say barbecue is only ever low and slow: hot + fast = grilling). The possibilities for documentaries are endless.

So all in all, "Chef's Table: BBQ" is more of a sampler platter than a full meal. With each person the series profiles, there's in-depth coverage, but because the miniseries is only four episodes long, it misses out on the true breadth of barbecue.