How Daniel Vaughn, the BBQ Snob, turned himself into the hottest brand in smoked meat

Daniel Vaughn bites into a rib at the Baby Back Shak in 2009. (Photo by David Woo/The Dallas Morning News)

(Note: Rebecca LaFlure is a Texas native, long-time barbecue fan and journalism graduate student at Northwestern University. Prior to attending Northwestern, she worked as a reporter for media outlets in Killeen and Austin. She currently covers national security as a fellow at the Center for Public Integrity in Washington D.C. The following article was initially written as a research paper for a 21st Century Media course at Northwestern.)

By Rebecca LaFlure

On March 21, Texas Monthly announced it hired someone for “what may be the most coveted job” in the Lone Star State: the magazine’s first barbecue editor. News of the unusual title spread fast. New York Times writer Manny Fernandez called the new hire “a walking milestone in the history of Texas barbecue.”

I mentioned the newly created position to my friend Matt Goodman, a digital producer for an ABC affiliate in Dallas, Texas. “Let me guess,” he said. “They hired Daniel Vaughn.”

Goodman guessed right. Vaughn managed to turn his love for barbecue into a career. He left his job as a Dallas architect to become the country’s only barbecue editor. Vaughn joined Texas Monthly’s barbecue franchise, which, according to its website, includes a Joint Finder smart phone application, annual barbecue festival and a Top 50 list published every five years. Vaughn regularly produces a mix of barbecue reviews, news articles, interviews and weekly columns for the magazine’s barbecue website, TMBBQ.com.

Vaughn didn’t get the job by chance. He developed a brand as a barbecue expert through a blog he started in 2008 called Full Custom Gospel Barbecue, where Vaughn posted reviews of the hundreds of barbecue joints he visited. “At the time, nobody had done that before,” said R.J. Hinkle, a Dallas-area photographer for QuadGraphics who’s attended barbecue tours with a group called the Texas BBQ Posse. “Not only did he create a brand, but he created a genre and a market.”

History more interesting than BBQ at Pizzitola's in Houston

Pizzitola's. Great name for a pizza joint.

And that's exactly what what some potential customers mistakenly thought until the place changed its signs several years ago, adding references to barbecue, said manager Lexie Moore.

"Everyone thanked us for bringing barbecue to the neighborhood," Moore said. "We had it all the time."

We arrived at Pizzitola's Bar-B-Cue on Shepherd Drive in Houston about an hour or so before closing on a Friday night.

The joint touts itself as "Houston's Home for Spareribs" and they weren't bad. Neither was the sausage. But the brisket was closer to roast beef, dry and without much taste.

The real story of Pizzitola's, though, is its history rather than its smoked meats.

The joint's lineage traces to the 1930s and pitmaster John Davis, who ran Shepherd Drive Bar-B-Q. "John P. Davis, World's Greatest Barbecue Man," says one sign on Pizzitola's wall.

According to a 1988 Houston Post article that also hangs on the wall, Davis, who was black, segregated his customers. Blacks in the front and whites in the back.

Jerry Pizzitola, who played football for the Texas Aggies in the early 1960s, took over operations from the Davis family in the early 1980s and changed the name. He retained the original wood-fired brick pits, which are still used.

According to the Houston Chronicle, the two 12 foot-by-6 foot pits are examples of "traditional open pit barbecue that can't be found anywhere else in Houston."

Moore said retaining that history comes with some limitations. Pizzitola's can't make major changes to its building.

"If we do, we lose our grandfather clause on the pits," he said as he gave us a tour of the place.

That would be a shame.




Photos ©Philip Lamb (top) & Chris Wilkins/Texas BBQ Posse