From New Orleans:
The Quest for New Orleans 'Cue
Ends at ZydeQue
Louisianan or Georgian, This Barbecue Rocks
by John Mariani

Juicy ribs

I can't begin to count the number of genres and sub-genres there are in the world of American barbecue (a word that did not come from the French "barbe à queue" but from an Native American word for a latticework of fire sticks), but I do know that even within the same town you'll hear locals speak of the distinctions within neighborhoods—maybe even within blocks—as much as they do between whole regions. Getting into such arguments is as futile as it is likely to get you marked as a rube, so I am content to observe and learn, not to deconstruct the distinctions between one 'cue or another.

I was, then, happy to come across ZydeQue Bayou Barbeque, a new barbecue place in New Orleans, a city which—believe me—is not known for its barbecue. The eatery takes its name from Zydeco, the syncopated dance music of Louisiana's black Creoles, itself a sub-genre of bayou music similar to Cajun music. Created by Gary Wollerman and chef Tenney Flynn, the owners of the city's best upscale seafood restaurant, G W Fins, ZydeQue may not be the only barbecue restaurant in New Orleans but it is its best and most authoritative, though not exactly what you would expect from a chef of Flynn's refined sensibilities. But underneath the white chef's jacket is the heart and soul of a Georgia native who says, "I grew up eating barbecue made by pit masters in Georgia, but living here in Louisiana for quite some time inspired me to find out what local barbecue traditions were. After a lot of research I combined Louisiana smoking techniques with many local products, and I also incorporated our barbecued meats into many traditional New Orleans dishes."

Chef Tenney Flynn

To start with, Flynn buys very high quality meat—not always a requisite among those pit masters who smoke their meats for ten hours or more. Flynn uses hickory and pecan in his custom-designed smokers and the cuts of meat come out crisp, sizzling with smoke, smelling of the woods and oozing succulence. His sauce is made with Steen's Cane Syrup and cane vinegar, to which he adds a good dose of South Louisiana chile peppers, which makes it sweet, tangy and quite hot, requiring drafts of beer to tame it down.

Whereas many barbecue artisans specialize in one thing—shredded or chopped pork, ribs, beef brisket or prime ribs—Flynn runs a true gamut on his menu, offering these same standards, all with their own flavors and aromas, none like the others, when they sit on a large mixed platter with a mess of pinto beans and good, medium-grained cornbread, served in its own cast-iron skillet. In fact, the variety here makes for a difficult decision, because you are sure to go the traditional route with pork and beef—including the very Louisianan cochon de lait—but then you'd have to leave out the juicy chicken and the andouille sausage. Or you'd miss a shredded pork sandwich dripping with that wonderful sauce, or the smoked turkey leg. What you simply cannot afford to miss is what the locals called "debris" and which they pronounce "DAY-bree," the fabulous, fatty little bits of meat that fall from the roast beef when it's carved; it sits in the sputtering fat and gravy, atoms and morsels you could make a meal of if you had the time. Flynn uses chicken, andouille, brisket and smoked pork to create his debris and puts it into his gumbo, into which he plops a scoop of potato salad, àla bayou tradition (which I'm not sure is a tradition worth maintaining).

Cochon de lait on a bun

For starters you might want to consider his popcorn shrimp or crawfish, which are seriously addictive and can make you pause before going on with a bowl of rich, ham-chicken-andouille studded jambalaya made from a very dark roux married to Creole tomatoes and served over popcorn rice, so called because of its aroma's similarity to popcorn's. Boudin balls are made from white sausage combined with seasonings, then fried crisp and served with mashed potatoes laced with Southern Comfort liquor, bananas, cream and vanilla in what may well be one of the major triumphs of southern prole cookery.

Not one to let his seafood artistry go unnoticed, Flynn does a turn with a local favorite,"barbecued shrimp," created decades ago at Pascal's Manale restaurant, which are not barbecued at all but cooked in plenty of butter, garlic and pepper, then served with French bread you dip in the sauce until there's not a drop left on the plate; much of it will inevitably be on your hands, mouth and shirt. Gulf Oysters are lightly breaded, fried and served on French bread with a terrific sauce rémoulade.

Dessert, assuming you are happy to go whole hog here, is a large wedge of praline pie made of layers of ice cream, meringue, praline, chocolate and cookies—not something to be sniffed at and a badge of courage for anyone attempting to put it all away. But then largess is the guiding principle of ZydeQue, where no appetite goes unsated. And that goes for any hour, because the place opens at 11:30 a.m. and doesn't close until 1:30 a.m. the next morning. It's a big place on two levels and there's nothing fancy about it, but there's also none of that faux-rusticity that would make it look touristy and crass.

I'm still not sure that New Orleans 'cue is a sub-genre of Louisianan or Southern barbecue cookery; I just know it's very good and very true to whatever form Flynn has chosen to give it in a town where good barbecue has heretofore been tough to find.

John Mariani is well known for his frank and poignant writing in Esquire, Wine Spectator, Diversion and the Harper Collection. He is author of The Encyclopedia of American Food & Drink, The Dictionary of Italian Food and Drink and co-author, with his wife, of the Italian-American Cookbook.

(Updated: 07/09/08 HC)