I am unabashedly picky about my barbecue. It’s one of the few giveaways that I’m from Texas (the other being that I refuse to get rid of my y’all). I wasn’t a fan of North Carolina’s vinegar-based barbecue while in college, and I only ate barbecue twice during my five years in NYC (and trust me when I say the uber-popular eatery Dallas BBQs is not BBQ; however, their Texas-sized drinks I’ll never sniff at). NYC is many things culinary, but a barbecue hot spot it is not. I don’t care what the food critics might say.
When the co-worker who loves to plan outings for foreign teachers as a means of introducing us to all things Venezuelan invited people to join her at a restaurant, I was all about it. Any restaurant that has you order meat by weight and not by size must be on to something.
Consequently, on a Sunday afternoon I found myself seated in a wooden chair facing a beautifully lush, green mountainside. A misting system was overhead in case I got hot while lounging outside. Music wafted around me and not one fly bothered to cross my line of vision.
I was supposed to be eating healthier, but instead I was devouring the most delicious arepitas con queso, grilled cheese (and I’m not talking about the sandwich that is a childhood favorite; take a look at the picture for proof), and a stack of well-done red meat (again, being from Texas I don’t do rare. Ever.). A dark, almost maroon colored sangria served as the table’s centerpiece.
I know they say that good food leads to good conversation, but I think the opposite is true. When the food is delectable all conversation stops because people are too busy “being in their plates.” I know I was while at Don Julian’s. I can’t even post a picture of the barbecue because, in all honesty, I inhaled a good bit of it before even thinking about a photo. I figured readers were getting tired of my pictures of half-eaten food on a now dirty plate. I have no shame, y’all, no shame.
If Don Julian was an actual man, I would be pursuing him “something silly” (as my grandma would say). Since it’s simply the name of the restaurant, I’ll have to settle for dreams of returning one day soon.
**A co-worker took all posted photos. I left my camera at home and brought just my debit card and an appetite.