The suburb of Wheaton is 90 percent white and just 3 percent black, yet I found a sign of racial mixing out there that you’d be hard pressed to find in the city. But hold that thought and let me back up. I was in Wheaton for an annual all-night flea market, an event my kids find irresistible since it involves roaming a gravel lot in darkness with a flashlight, looking through other peoples’ stuff. (Me, I already bought the pop culture of the 70s and 80s once—I don’t need to buy it again.) Beforehand, the friends who invited us suggested a barbecue place out there called Steamboat Barbeque—they hadn’t been, but had heard it was good.
In Memphis he also admired Silky O’Sullivan’s, a famous Beale Street bar, as much for the way the late Silky ran things as for the Memphis-style ribs Bovinette would try to reproduce. “He was very charismatic, you just felt good in his place, the way he ran it.” In Texas he found brisket nirvana, and in the Carolinas, “I don’t recall any particular place, but they have these roadside stands and you just feel like, when it comes to pork, they got it.”
Bovinette said that in competition, his standout meat was ribs, and I’d say that’s still true—some might find that the meat falls off the bone a little too easily, but the smoke flavor is deep and they were mighty fine. I also really liked the smoked sausage, which was similar to the Rudy Mikeska sausage from Texas served at Smoque (it could be Mikeska sausage, I forgot to ask) and cooked to a perfect moistness. Brisket and pulled pork were good but suffered a little from being held, steaming themselves a bit—a challenge for most places. In the nonbarbecue category, fresh-cut french fries were first rate. The Kansas City-style sauce was pretty sweet, as they usually are, but there were other choices (a spicy tomatoey style and a Carolina mustard style) so you can dabble to find your taste.
