Fast Foodie: Texas Brisket BBQ

"East Meets West" says a sign at Texas Brisket. Over a DMZ, perhaps.

The premise of a BBQ joint that also serves Korean barbecue sounded like a good one at first — a plate of Korean kalbi separated from a brace of good-ol'-boy pork ribs by a buffer of cole slaw and kimchee was what leapt to mind. But no. The only way to put the twain together would be to order the full plate of kalbi (pork short ribs), then add barbecued pork ribs by the pound — but you would get rice along with your two Uncle Sam sides. Say barbecue beans, creamed corn, green beans, or red potato salad. Kimchee is nowhere in sight. Bulgogi, for its part, comes only in a po' boy. So you make do. The po'boy, for its part, was expectedly sweet, came with grilled onions and accessorized with cole slaw — the side closest to anything even remotely Korean. If you're fond of the sweetness, it's not a bad package, though the smoky-sweet sauce that came on the side was not really an asset. Should you choose to dip regardless, the bun will hold up to the insult.

I probably should have ordered the kalbi on the second visit, but I balked at the $10 tag and ordered a double meat plate of Texas Q for only a dollar less, and I can testify that the oak-smoked pork ribs were peppery, just smoky enough, and reasonably meaty. The eponymous brisket, however, was dry, lean, and uninspiring. It needed sauce, and I truly hope that it was different from the previous one because it scored this time around.

Spoiled by banchan, the tiny bowls of mostly pickled goodies served at Korean restaurants, it's hard not to be a little disappointed by the sides at TBB — or any local Q palace, for that matter. But the red potato salad needed only salt, and the BBQ beans were mild but hearty. The house's rendition of cornbread with cheddar, however, is sensational; there's nothing like it on a Korean menu. Honor is upheld.