Smokey Mountain Breakdown

When I first moved here, which was not that long ago, it was a scary little Exxon station with a full service garage. I think it might have been a game check point. You’d see hunters drive up with bears hanging out of the back of their pick-up trucks. I also had to drive to White Pine, about 30 miles away, for a six pack of really good beer. But a few years ago all of that changed when The Pigeon River Smokehouse took over the property and turned it into a really nice place to stop and eat.

It's been really amazing to watch how they turned that little service station into a spacious store and restaurant with a really beautiful modern kitchen with a wood smoker. The wide porches have picnic tables and rockers on them where you can take your barbecue and eat just steps away from the Pigeon River. As barbecue joints go...this one is really nice!

I’ve been a bit remiss in not writing them up sooner. They’ve been supplying my pulled pork sandwich habit for a while now. So, I decided to remedy that and marched in and ordered “The Works” yesterday. I tackled the Barbecue Combo.

This is a plate of smoked meats that will knock your socks off. Barbecue chicken, thinly sliced beef, pulled pork and ribs with French fries and a side of either cole slaw or baked beans. Two enormous slabs of garlic Texas toast come with it as well. I’m told both sides are excellent but the beans I had are truly outstanding. There is so much meat on this plate that I highly recommend bringing a very healthy appetite. I couldn’t finish mine and will be eating off the leftovers for a few days.

They smoke the meats in a modern wood smoker back in the kitchen using red oak. It’s a bit more of a subtle smokiness than some barbecue that I’ve enjoyed…and you know me…my barbecue addiction is legendary. I’ve enjoyed quite a bit of it in my lifetime. They serve it properly, with the sauce on the side.

Absolutely do try to save room for dessert. They also do a really outstanding Sweet Potato Pie with a nut crumb crust. I’m admittedly something of a Sweet Potato Pie snob, coming from South Carolina where this is practically the State Pie. But I give this pie a serious “thumbs up”. It's definitely worth saving some room for.



The Pigeon River Smokehouse is located off of I-40 just off the #447/Hartford exit on the river side of the interstate. I highly recommend stopping there if you are coming through on your way between Asheville and Knoxville. It’s just as you come out of or enter the big mountain pass that stretch of interstate services, so it’s a great place to stop.

Gather 'round close now, chirrun's, cause I'm 'bout to lay some serious BBQ wisdom down upon you'uns heads.

This will be primarily of the eastern Carolinas tradition...having nothing to do with the barbecue of Tennessee which is entirely different. Barbecue philosophy is a subject of heated debate, so these are merely my opinions here. There are also those out there way more bubbalicious than moi who have made it their life's work to perfect these arts.

I'm from the lowcountry of South Carolina. This means a few things in terms of barbecue. First, it means primarily talking about pig. When I lived in Dallas, I was quite flummoxed by the concept of barbecued beef. This just seemed wrong in so many ways. I've since had and learned to make and appreciate beef done this way, but it still doesn't seem like "real" barbecue to me.

The second thing is cooking. We are talking smoking pork over a pit or some sort of grilling device that allows for a long smoking period. Purists snort at gas or propane grills. I have a strong preference for well-fired oak coals that are then fed wet hickory chips. The tell-tale "pink line" is how you tell if the barbecue is authentic. That is the smoke ring. It will also have a bit of char on the outside of the meat. Authentic barbecue is always served separate from the sauce.

The third thing is sauce. Carolina style sauces all have mustard of some variety in them. The oldest of them have no tomato products. I've read that since our barbecue tradition is perhaps the oldest and dates back to colonial times when tomatoes were largely believed to be poisonous, that this is why we favor the vinegary, mustard based sauces. Don't know if that is true, but it sounds about right.

This is my uncle, Dr. Roy Gleaton's, Barbecue Sauce Recipe. I'm sworn to secrecy as to where he actually got it from, but the recipe dates back to the 1940's. I could give you my own personal secret sauce...but then I'd have to kill you.

Damn, I love a good pig pickin'.

I'm sort of sad that it has been so many years since I attended a pig pickin'. It used to be a fairly common event, particularly with political rallies. This is the best place to experience the type of barbecue that I've just described. I've often thought my farm would be an ideal location to have one.

A Pig Pickin' (not to be confused with a Hawg Killin' though a Pig Pickin' was often the celebration following a successful Hawg Killin') involves cooking an entire hog in a hand dug pit over a period of about 8 to 12 hours for a large group of people. A variety of sides are prepared to go with the pig. Hash and Brunswick Stew are the most common ones, though there should be lots of loaves of white bread, corn bread, hushpuppies, red rice and other things of the Southern covered dish variety. If you have room left, coconut "wet" cake is a nice finish.

Adult beverages, most often beer, are frequently involved since the menfolk are the ones presiding over the cooking of the pig. This is an almost ceremonial task. No. Not almost. It's thinly veiled pagan ceremony. Shirtlessness and fire are involved.

It's called a "pickin" since the pig emerges from the pit in its entirety and the meat is shredded off the bone then served with the sauce.

Most pig pickin's are fun family affairs celebrating the food and offering a draw for a church or a politician. Somehow though, it's the pig pickin's that got out of hand that I most remember.

I remember one pig pickin' I attended back in college. It was to celebrate the eviction of the student tenants at this particular house on Blossom Street. There were many kegs. Much drunkenness and crazy dancing. Barefoot Harry was there. The cops were called. We gave them some pork and turned the music down.

My brother once attended a political pig pickin' near Charleston for Brantley Harvey that featured whole venisons sewn up in entire hog's skins then roasted in the pit.

Deerpiggins.

The entire idea is just Julio-Claudian in its excess. They were supposedly delicious. This truly is a food pornilicious concept.

I've been dying to try it ever since I heard of it.

Damn. I love a pig pickin'.