Incommensurate

BBQ from the Iron Works is fine; I'm not complaining, especially when the batch of brisket has the fat rendered out completely but hasn't become jerky. But I still miss the Pit, where the flavor was of meat and of smoke and where the brisket was never too fatty. Iron Works doesn't measure up. The Pit incorporated the Susanna Dickinson house, it turns out. It was a great resort for working people at lunch, too, with one of those bottomless (ever-refillable) giant plastic glasses of (iced) tea. Whatever is rubbed on at the Iron Works (a) has a lot of salt, and (b) has something sweet, and sweeter than blackstrap molasses, something more like just plain sugar or even ketchup; this is not a plus. I miss the Pit, and I bet the regulars still miss it all, including the door between the Pit and O'Henry's or the Back Forty behind the Pit. (Here's what the Chron used to say about it: "O. Henry's Back Forty, 407 Neches, 478-0411 The writer for whom it is named wouldn't likely recognize the decor, which is straight out of Roy Rogers' rec room -- formica tables, faux-tile linoleum bar, and red woven-vinyl chairs. You'll find more Greek letters and college insignia than cattle brands, and it's always happy hour on the Natty Light.") Sigh. Not that I'm complaining. I like this rundown of BBQ providers, including those now defunct. I don't think he mentions Sam's or Ben's Long Branch, though. This guy does properly appreciate the Pit #3 and laments its passing.