Barbecue in the Deep North

The inspiration to visit Blue Ribbon Barbecue was born about two weeks ago, when Jesse was sitting in Razor’s Barbershop in Somerville, getting the freshest of cuts from Drew, a bona fide magician with clippers. The topic of the local gastronomic scene came up in conversation, specifically the dearth of quality barbecue joints in the Boston-Cambridge area. If you’re a card-carrying carnivore, you’re probably aware of the problem, as a hankering for umami frequently goes unsatisfied in a city better known for calzones and lobster rolls. There’s Redbones in Davis Square, of course, which boasts packed dining rooms and long wait times every Friday and Saturday night, but any local will tell you that Redbones has gone downhill in the last few years. We sadly concur; the brisket is a little too dry, the baked beans a little too sweet, and the atmosphere a little too self-congratulatory, like an exclusive party where everyone is just happy to be there. Drew was aware of Redbones’ decline, and was ready with an alternative: Blue Ribbon in Arlington, just north of Cambridge. How does one get to Blue Ribbon, you may ask? Simple: Take the 77 bus north along Mass Ave almost to the end of the line. Hop out by the Stop and Shop, and there you are in slow-roasted heaven. Looking on a map, you’re probably further north than you’ve ever been in Boston, but at Blue Ribbon, you’ll feel like you’ve entered a little pocket of the Deep South.

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Blue Ribbon first gives the impression that it’s much smaller than it looks from the outside. The vast majority of the space is taken up by a row of gargantuan, hickory-wood meat smokers visible from the dining area, essentially three stools staring bleakly into the street. Customers order from one of those menus on the wall that looks hand-written but probably isn’t, which sits below a tasteful decorative array of license plates from dozens of states, including a few hilarious vanity ones (“SEEYABYE” was a personal favorite of ours, presumably owned by a driver who took speed limits as more of a suggestion). The specials menu nudges you towards the restaurant’s roast turkey offerings, but go for more traditional fare: beef brisket and pulled pork, with rice and beans, collard greens, and spicy black-eyed corn on the side. Cornbread comes with almost every dish. Even though the meat has been smoking all day, the wait is short. Before you can finish reading through the the poster on the wall advertising pee-wee hockey, the food comes out, a heaping mountain of juicy flesh whose drippings are already dissolving the flimsy takeout container unfairly tasked with holding it.

The brisket tastes as though it were injected with all the fat and juice that was missing from Redbones’ brisket. If you can’t stomach straight animal fat, play a little game of find-the-meat with your fork to uncover the luscious fibers of beef hiding beneath the surface. The beef is more than worth it though, and dissolves in your mouth with just a hint of smokiness. The pork is hearty and glistens with fat, leaving behind the sliminess that haunts pulled pork at places like Redbones. This barbecue is hard-core. It tastes like it should be eaten with the windows rolled down, the rock n’ roll cranked up to 11, and the sheriff on your tail for breaking the local law against being a badass. As is the mark of any reputable barbecue joint, the sides are also excellent, but the black-eyed corn sends you straight to the water cooler. This corn is like a psychological thriller — on first glance, unassuming, without any visible pepper, it hits you with a mouth-numbing surge of spice. With the meat and sides eaten, all that’s left is a murky juice from the beef and greens. Once the hefty slice of cornbread absorbs the juices, however, you’re left with a moist, sweet slice that is a perfect capstone to the meal. Shaking off the encroaching fat coma, you thank the cheery meatmen behind the counter, head back to the bus stop, and hop back on the 77 back to Cambridge. The Deep North has done its job.

— Contributing Writers Jesse Barrera ‘20 and Timothy Im’s ‘21 column “Striking Gold in Beantown” explores the neighborhoods of Boston through the culture and stories of the city's restaurants, takeout joints, and food trucks, inspired by the late food critic Jonathan Gold.