Let’s start by agreeing that people who refer to certain fire-smoked meats as “‘Que” are like those who refer to mushrooms as “srooms”. The pet names come from an uneasy relationship with food, and they deserve to be ignored.
The bigger issue is that “barbecue” itself is a term with such broad application as to be useless. In Texas where I grew up, we’d say “I’m going to Sonny Bryan’s” rather than “I’m going to Sonny Bryan’s Barbecue” and never the generic “I’m going out for some barbecue”… a meaningless description since smoking, grilling and saucing styles varied tremendously from one establishment to another.
My all time favorites include Kreuz’s in Lockhart, Sonny Bryan’s in Dallas (original location only, near Parkland Hospital where they took JFK), and Sam’s in Fairfield. When I lived in LA I would try to swing by a place called “Mr. Jim’s” on Florence Blvd, near the epicenter of the LA Riots. They had a saying, “you need no teeth to eat Mr. Jim’s Beef.” I have teeth so can’t validate this, but it seems plausible.
Today I live in the Lower Haight, 100 feet from Memphis Minnie’s which was praised in Gourmet Magazine as the best barbecue place in the U.S. The brisket is good, as are the rib tips. But if you order a sandwich they will bring it to you on a sourdough roll (?!) with a set of distracting sauces. Instead, buy a pound and bring it home and eat on cheap white bread with dashes of Tabasco or Crystal hot sauce.
(Memphis Minnie’s also makes an excellent sour slaw, but you don’t have to get on the 71 bus to enjoy it. The San Francisco Chronicle printed the recipe on 7/2/03 and last time I checked it was archived.)
But my favorite place in San Francisco (especially now that Claypool’s is gone) is Rudy’s in the Bayview, on 3rd Street near Oakdale. Hours are somewhat unpredictable, so I try to stop by on my way home if I have meeting in Silicon Valley, rather than making a special trip, and I try not to go too hungry in case I’m disappointed.
I order the brisket sandwich with two sides: a mustardy potato salad and beans with the tangy, intriguingly scorched taste of dark molasses. Ask for “mixed” sauce… not too hot, not too mild… and you will be set for more than one meal.