Barbosa's Barbeque

Forget the air conditioner and chilly pitchers of tea. Alex Barbosa stands in his front yard with a pile of logs and a crackling fire even as the thermostat rises into the nineties. In the dead of night, when it was still easily eighty-five, Barbosa had cast salt and pepper over his trimmed, hand-picked briskets and consigned them to the flames. He’s been up ever since, lying low and quiet as the smoker in his yard does its work. It’s eight in the morning now, and Barbosa guzzles black coffee in anticipation of that evening’s gig. When he finally takes his briskets from the flame, he’ll be heading to Tin Roof Brewery as it releases its new Gose With the Flow and Barbosa treats the gathered crowd to authentic Texas barbecue. (I hear later, from Tin Roof’s special events director Rivers Hughey: “The line for his brisket never seemed to go down!”) 

How did this pop-up pitmaster arrive in Baton Rouge? And what place exists here for his craft? Find excerpts from our conversation below:

On the barbecue triangle:

I’m from Victoria, which is about two hours southwest of Houston and about an hour and a half/two hours southeast of Austin, so I was kind of in the middle of the two. If you make a triangle between those three cities, that’s where you can find some of the best barbecue. I grew up traveling to both cities and just happening to go through all those little barbecue towns all the time when I was little. I was exposed at an early age to getting up on a Saturday morning, going [to these barbecue joints], and waiting in line for an hour. You know as a kid, anywhere you have to go where you have to wait in line, it’s like, Ugh. You get very restless. I just remember waiting in line for an hour or two, getting barbecue, eating it, and being like, “Wow, that was worth waiting in line for.” I still don’t like waiting for anything, but I’ll wait for good things like that.

On working nights: 

I’m working, but I’m by myself. There’s usually no one ever around. So I have midnight till the sun rises where I might not even say a word. I’ll bring my laptop out sometimes and play some music. But it’s very serene in the fact that I’m outside for most of it, so I see the sky go from pitch black—I work, work, work, work—then I start to hear the birds chirp. The sun starts to come out. You get that quiet period of just—it’s almost a zen for me. I’m drinking coffee. I don’t always listen to music, but if I’m feeling tired, I’ll turn some on.

It’s a neat experience to do that all night. I’ve had so many nights where it’s almost been a party atmosphere. I’m playing music and drinking beers. But I’ve had some nights where I’m kinda sad and just working and thinking about life. Listening to nothing. Sometimes all I can hear is just the crackling of fire.

[Related: In Grand Coteau, and around the country, Toby Rodriguez is reviving the traditional boucherie.]

On starting Barbosa’s Barbeque:

I usually go to the mountains three or four times a year. I climbed Mt. Elbert by myself last June. I spent about four or five days backpacking through the Wasatch Mountains in Leadville. I was by myself. Just like straight, five days. Quiet, peacefulness. And during that time, I thought to myself—I didn’t get into [physical therapy] school, so that was the reason why I kinda needed a couple of days out in the forest by myself—I asked myself, “Do I wanna start looking elsewhere and seeing if I have any other strengths?”I realized I wanted to start doing more things for myself that I enjoy. That was last June—June 2015. And I had a little smoker that I had bought two months before that. I started using it. We had Game of Thrones parties last year where I’d smoke a pork butt. I'd think, “This is kinda fun. It took nine hours of my Sunday. But it was fun.” 

Eventually I found myself spending twenty-four or thirty-six hours of every seventy-two-hour weekend doing that. Spring took off; I had success at Blues Fest and all those events, and here we are now. 

On collaboration:

I like the idea of going to different restaurants or maybe one restaurant if I can find one that is interested in this idea—letting me be a pitmaster at that restaurant one or two nights a week. That would allow me to go outside the culinary box that I’m in now. It’s Texas barbecue, but I might be able to smoke different kinds of meats and work with their executive chefs and culinary people to create dishes that we can plate and make a little bit more upscale dishes versus just brisket and bread, which is what I do. 

To an extent, I wanna stay independent, but at the same time, I kind of want to collaborate with other restaurants—let me work with them and help them, and at the same time help myself. 

Like supporting Radio Bar when I did a pop-up there—they made so much money off drinks. I got so much recognition and met so many cool people and networked. 

That’s what I love about this part of the city—Mid City—you get all these people that are just collaborating instead of competing. Bringing people together, whether it’s food, music, or drinking—I think all three are pretty popular down here. It’s huge. It’s fun for me. Obviously I’m not doing this to make a lot of money. 

Details. Details. Details. 

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