Percy Street BBQ: Will Philly Bite on Texas BBQ?
Percy Street will be the fourth restaurant for Steve and Michael, the city’s most dynamic restaurant duo — they recently sold Marigold Kitchen, and still own Xochitl and Zahav. Their first three restaurants were built around their chefs’ comfort zones: Michael, born in Israel, cooks that nation’s cuisine at Zahav; the chef at Xochitl is from Mexico. Erin, Percy Street’s head chef and part owner, is from the South; she turned Michael’s Middle Eastern Marigold in that direction after she took over its kitchen. They’re confident now, so they’re straying from their tried-and-true formula. This time, they’re giving Philadelphians what they think we need.
Texas barbecue is a culinary genre not yet found in Philly. Erin and Michael and Steve aren’t trying to replicate some New York City version of a Texas eatery — they’re traveling the Lone Star State to formulate their own idea of what’s real. They believe that if the food and experience are genuine, diners will respond. It’s a gamble.
It’s a big moment for Philly, too. The city has grown up enough to set restaurant trends, not just follow them. Can Texas barbecue be the next big culinary thing in town? On South Street? Is authenticity the key to success?
Steve strolls through Smitty’s dining room door with a plate full of meat. Erin audibly exhales as the next sampling of brisket thumps on the picnic table in front of her. “There’ve been a few good things about different ones, but we still haven’t found it,” she laments. It’s our last day in Texas, and the fact that she still hasn’t found the Holy Grail of Brisket — the point of coming — is disappointing. Which is why she opens wide, and tries once again.
It’s a road trip. Let’s start at the beginning of the road.
DAY ONE
Before we even check into our Dallas hotel — way before noon — we’re in a town called Tioga, at Clark’s, a barbecue restaurant that’s been written up in Bon Appétit and Gourmet. We’re about to have brisket for breakfast. In Texas, barbecue is ordered by the pound. The 12 of us order a few pounds of brisket, ribs, chicken and sausage, plus some sides — fried corn, potato salad, slaw — to share. This isn’t the barbecue Easterners know. In Texas, you won’t find sweet pulled pork sandwiches and buttery cornbread from the Carolinas, or thick, smoky sauce from Kansas City. Here, signs say “Don’t Even Think About Asking for a Fork” for tourists like us. Philadelphians aren’t the hardest group of people to please, but they are fickle. We have preconceived notions of what barbecue is, and it’s not this.
Clark’s sports yellowed family photos of grandmas holding shotguns on one wall, and a peeling mural of a prairie on the other. A train whistles in the distance. We laugh, because it’s too perfect. “Let’s get train sounds on a soundtrack and play them at the restaurant,” Steve says. “Seriously. Can we do that?”
He means it, because Percy Street will be super-casual, serving only things you’d find in Texas, not straying toward generic “barbecue.” To me, the plan seems unnervingly risky. But maybe Percy Street is ahead of the curve. Gastropubs aren’t the only casual eateries that can survive in Philadelphia. After all, the reach of the comfort-food craze seems endless. (Its recession-friendly prices help.) Restaurants specializing in burgers are popping up everywhere. Food trucks are all the rage. Even Stephen Starr, King of Swank, just opened a pizza joint. Whether it’s the recession or merely the next trend in a constantly evolving industry, we’re moving into an era of restaurants that are laid-back yet still scenic, single-focused but still food-oriented. But it was the highly styled and trendy restaurants that built the renaissance in Philly. Will suburbanites get dressed up and drive into the city for train whistles?
