The Oldest Barbecue Family in Dallas: The Hardeman’s Legacy of Smoke, Sauce and Soul

At Hardeman’s, barbecue isn’t just food; it’s a continuation of Black culinary traditions shaped by migration, resilience and community.

A shopping strip on Scyene Road houses several restaurants anchored by a vibrant daycare center. The words SOUL FOOD stitched into a banner whip in the breeze on a pole in the parking lot. When stepping through the front door, customers are hit with the aroma of barbecue and an air of nostalgia.

The buffet line forms an L-shape through the dining room. Steam from trays of cabbage, fried okra, rice and tender smothered pork chops fog the clear plastic sneeze guard above the food. Menu boards list staples of Texas barbecue like brisket, ribs, chicken, and bolo, the beloved smoked bologna that has been a fixture in African American kitchens for generations. Above the counter, faded signs list daily specials, including chitlins, a dish now fading from mainstream menus but still holding its place here.

The plexiglass shield, perhaps a brief reminder of the pandemic, separates guests from the food but not from conversation. Customers lean in, chatting with one of the heirs to this barbecue legacy, Sarah Taylor Watson, granddaughter of namesake Chesterfield Hardeman and daughter of Emma Hardeman.

On this sunny Saturday afternoon, she takes a short break between baking desserts to greet long-time customers turned friends. Beside the cash register, a wall of history stands watch over the room. The elder Hardeman, who built this legacy, commands the center, flanked by images of other family pillars. To his immediate right, his daughter, Emma, gazes out, her resemblance to her father unmistakable.

The business began in Uptown, long before the area became the trendy Dallas neighborhood it is today with high-rise apartments, first-class restaurants and a social scene catering to the city’s elite. Initially, the area was  Freedmantown, built by formerly enslaved people, a self-sustaining neighborhood filled with Black-owned homes, businesses and restaurants despite segregation, redlining and other restrictive policies.

In Freedmantown, Black entrepreneurs opened fried chicken cafes and barbecue joints, two defining culinary staples often grouped under the broad “soul food” umbrella. These restaurants didn’t just serve food; they provided one of the few dining options available to Black residents within their tight-knit enclave.

As Chesterfield Hardeman juggled other professions to support his growing family, he unknowingly built a soul food dynasty. Hardeman’s Barbecue, now synonymous with Dallas’ Black barbecue history, started as a roadside stand in the late 1930s. Although the living descendants don’t recall exact dates, they agree that his first brick-and-mortar location opened in 1943. By 1947, the Hardeman family operated two barbecue restaurants and a grocery store in Freedmantown, according to the 1947-1948 Dallas Negro Directory.

But city planners pushed for “urban renewal,” a process critics often deride as “Negro removal,” and developers set their sights on Black communities. The construction of Central Expressway (1949) and Woodall Rodgers Freeway (1962) demolished homes and businesses, severing Freedmantown from downtown. In 1968, the Hardeman family moved their barbecue restaurant to West Dallas, joining many other local Black-owned businesses forced to relocate.

By the 1970s, what began as a tiny corner spot serving East Texas-style barbecue had grown into a second-generation restaurant, adapting to a rapidly changing city. Hardeman kept the menu simple: chopped beef, ribs and sausage, served with classic sides of beans and potato salad. A Texas Monthly article references how Hardeman smoked the fattier navel end of briskets for hours for his signature chopped beef, rendering a tender and flavorful sandwich.

According to Sarah, the smoker was in a tiny room, and the fragrant smoke would get so thick that the family joked the patriarch had to stoop just to see his way out.

She recalls how all her uncles, George, Moses and Chester Jr., established Hardeman’s locations across North Texas. Unlike other family businesses that sometimes fracture with competition, the Hardeman siblings operated with a spirit of shared success. “I worked for my mother, but I also worked at my uncle George’s restaurant too in high school. There was never any competition, not even friendly kind, just all love and encouragement for each to be successful,” Sarah says. Prices may have varied slightly between locations, but the menu and the heart behind the food remained unchanged.

Each location sparks vivid memories for those who visit. In a Facebook post, Anga Sanders, an SMU alum, recalled how she and fellow students would leave campus for a treat at one of the Hardeman’s near Inwood and Mockingbird.

“It was a rare and welcome change from our cafeteria food,” she wrote.

In the 1980s, another Hardeman’s location opened in a converted Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant. Over time, its bright red trim faded to pink, and the walls, once white but now smoke-tinted, were a testament to years of slow-cooked barbecue.

Just behind the counter at the Scyene Road location, a doorway leads to Sarah’s busy kitchen. Willie Owens, a tall, slender gentleman with short braided hair, slices brisket, ribs and bolo with a surgeon’s precision.

The pork ribs are the star. These are smoked in a large barrel pit outside while Willie Richardson,  the dedicated head pitmaster, sits in a black cushioned desk chair that resembles a throne. Inside the spacious kitchen and prep area, Sarah’s desserts are sliced and lined up in tidy rows. Chess pie, pecan pie and layered cakes are all made by Sarah with family recipes passed down from her maternal line.

The key to the Hardeman family’s longevity lies in their ability to adapt while preserving tradition. Early menus featured simple offerings like chopped beef, ribs, and sausage, served with classic beans and potato salad. Today, the menu has expanded to include soul food staples such as candied yams, collard greens, smothered pork chops, fried fish and neck bones, short-end ribs and other barbecue specialties. Yet, the menu’s heart remains the same: chopped brisket, the most popular item, served on a bun and plated with sides or piled high on a baked potato.

Another evolution? The sauce. The original Hardeman’s sauce, a closely guarded family recipe, originally had a thinner consistency. As customer preferences shifted, Sarah thickened the sauce, creating a richer texture that clings better to smoked meats.

Sarah credits the family’s adaptability, honed well before 2020, as the key factor that sustained them during the pandemic.  “Luckily, when others shut down, we excelled because we had already been offering food for delivery. Nothing changed. … It was business as usual. In fact, we experienced growth during this time,” she says.

Today, each Hardeman’s location employs family members alongside trusted staff members who have become like family. At Sarah’s Scyene Road location, Willie Richardson has worked with the family since the ’90s. His nephew Phillip is learning from him, while Richardson helps uphold the time-honored tradition of pit master.

Over the years, the Hardeman family has cemented its status as Dallas’ oldest continuous barbecue family, not just through decades of perfecting their craft but through generations of love, adaptation and tradition that continue to shape their story. In a city where barbecue history is still being written, the Hardemans have already left their mark, with the fourth generation learning from the family’s legacy and preparing to carry it forward.

Despite displacement, Hardeman’s endured, building a legacy rooted in resilience and the unwavering spirit of a family determined to preserve its name.