Have you met The Man?

It’s probably been more than a year since we hauled our butts over the bridge for some Dixie’s BBQ, and we are thrilled to report that almost nothing has changed. We lived in Bellevue a very long time ago and used to line up at least once a week in the parking lot under the 405/520 interchange for a heaping helping of luscious, generously sauced, falling apart beef brisket barbecue served on a wonderfully inconsequential bun (perfect for absorbing sauce but completely flavorless on its own, just the way we think it should be). Gene Porter, owner and Master of Ceremonies, used to, and still does, walk up and down the line (unless you get there at 11 when they open, or it’s raining hard, there is always a very long, annoyingly slow line) yelling and mumbling incoherently and offering tastes of The Man, the most ridiculously hot sauce ever made by anyone, anywhere. You can tell the newbies by the fright in their eyes, and the way they avoid making eye contact with him. You can tell the real aficionados who stop him to chat (he’s actually a very nice guy) and to ask what the hell is taking so long.

Housed in what used to be an auto shop, Dixie’s looks like an auto shop that now serves up barbecue. Mismatched tables and folding chairs fill the “dining rooms”, while the parking lot has a few more under cover as well as some lovely concrete picnic tables. The walls are covered with photos of family and happy customers, and huge maps of the USA and the world covered with pins. Chances are Porter will ask you where you’re born, and if that particularly town has fewer than a dozen pins in it, he’ll ask you to add one for yourself.

The only thing that seemed to have changed today is that the line moved a little slower. In the old days, when that overfull-oh-my-god-I-can’t-believe-I-ate-the-whole-thing feeling was a weekly habit, Porter’s daughter, L.J., used to terrify the living daylights out of us. We would stop chatting and just pay attention when we got within 5 feet of the kitchen door lest we miss our ordering cue and earn an earful. We’d practice quietly to ourselves (beef brisket barbecue sandwich, please, side of lemon cake) until asked. Today she seemed almost pleasant, only irritated when large groups showed up at the cash register in a different order from the one in which they ordered. But even then she just organized the line and moved on. Maybe we caught her on a good day, but then we must admit we miss the bad days, because when she’s feeling ornery, she sure keeps the line moving. A real family affair, Porter’s wife, Dixie, is always on the premises too. We are more used to seeing her manning the stove or divvying up the side dishes, but today she was serving up the food herself, which might explain the appearance of L.J.’s softer side.

We’d love to tell you how fabulous his beef and pork ribs are, how delectable the chicken dinner is, how succulent the 520 Special (a sandwich of pulled pork and a spicy sausage) is, but it’s confession time: Porter’s beef brisket barbecue sandwich is so incredibly good, that for the last TEN YEARS, it is the only thing we have ever ordered. And although there are half a dozen side dishes to choose from, we always get the bright yellow, sugar-glazed lemon cake, which feels just decadent enough to follow our gigantic, dripping, messy, divine sandwich. One would think that although we obviously love the beef brisket we would have tried something else today if only to have more to say on the subject, but our apologies. Selfishly, when at Dixie’s, we just stick to what we know.

Note that you can also get Dixie’s at Safeco field (the number one reason why we go to baseball games).