Congratulations, you've made it to part two of three of my Fort Worth Barbecue Road Trip, in which the venues are selected at random and the reviews don't matter. You told me to go to Angelo's. I didn't listen to you. I am a dangerous rebel who does things you don't expect. Don't change the subject. Remember the challenge I issued you last time? Have you done it yet? Have you even left the house since then? I knew it. You're such a disappointment to me. Get on with it, you cretin.
Here is a quick way to prove that you are, without doubt, insane, upon first meeting someone. First, arrange to meet them at a restaurant. Second, on the way to that restaurant, go to another restaurant, of the exact same type, and eat a meal there (bonus points for the earlier meal being exactly the same as the later meal). Finally, greet them, 45 minutes late, at the restaurant you arranged to meet at, and tell them with a straight face that you were late because you went and got more of the same kind of food on your way to eat food with them.
Flawless victory. The look on their face, of confusion, repulsion, anger, and perhaps even fear, will be worth the price of the extra food. And this is exactly how we met up with two further people at Cousin's Bar-B-Q, delayed from a pre-barbecue trip to Longoria's BBQ. I wanted to go to Cousin's after sampling their delicious ribs at October's TITANIC RIB SHOWDOWN OF TITANS in Downtown Dallas, and because the much-venerated editor of City of Ate, Patrick, seemed to have a strange desire for Cousin's that he was unable to explain without drooling. I'm not sure if it was the thought of food that caused the drooling, but I took the hint and went.
This place smells more delicious than any barbecue place I have been in. That is a fact. The air hangs heavy with tasty, pregnant with brisket and anticipation. Getting a three-meat plate of brisket, rib and sausage ($15), I completed the bonus task of eating the exact same thing I had bought at the previous venue. I should point out that all of this was being shared between four people. Cousin's and Longoria's are only 15 minutes apart. The two people we were meeting had already finished their food, while we were at a different barbecue place. Seriously, illustrating my own mental illness isn't getting any less funny to me.
The ribs are unique. The rub on them is incredibly tangy and super-sharp. The meat itself is cooked to perfection, but the tang really separates the men from the boys. Three quarters of the Barbecrew reject them after a couple of bites. One guess who the last man standing is. I really like them. I love things with a sharp taste that occupies my whole mouth. Of the rest of the group, two of them won't even touch margaritas, and the third is 12 and loves chicken nuggets. They're a bad control group. If you like food that punches your taste buds with zest, fury, meat and joy, then you cannot go wrong with Cousin's ribs. They are some of the best I have ever had.
The brisket is also smokier and moister than average (although the slices are super-thin), and although the sausage is relatively sub-par and the sides taste Kraft-standard, I am still to this day delighted by the ribs. I wonder if I can obtain the rub, and just apply it to all my food? Zesty rub cookies. Mmmm. I tried to get a photo of a lone rib, but I ate most of it before I considered my duty to the reader, so you're going to have to go and check it out for yourself.
Maybe get some brisket sausage on the way?