Paradise is a freestanding pickle bar.
The Texas flag is pinned up behind the nursed-for troughs of diced and round onions, dill pickles both chopped and crinkle-cut, jalapeƱos both whole and sliced and an evenly troweled, cold container of butter. A really good pickles, onions and peppers bar can save entire lives.
Back Country Bar-B-Q's oasis has a little sign above it that reads āRelish Barā in cursive.
Filling your tray with plastic ramekins, each overflowing with pickles, is a splendorous thing that gives you the feeling of something like stepping into a childās drawing of the perfect barbecue joint. Itās the feeling of having endless amounts of the thing that you love, no charge.
The barbecue sauce, tangy and peppery, steams like a dark soup in its electric cauldron. Scott Collard calls out an order of the burger special to his cook Earnest Griffith. Griffith has been in the kitchen, dusting down ribs and pulverizing potatoes for salad, for nearly 45 years. Collardās working the line, thunking brisket apart with a knife.
Back Country's cafeteria line is flanked by moose heads. Oneās got a motorcycle planted on its furry skull. It watches as you skate a tray of meat down the line. Thereās no judgment from the moose, or really any other soul in the Back Country, if you want to grab a fried pie from the rack.
This is a barbecue joint that lives outside of it all. Itās pre-trend Dallas, despite being Grubhub-able, since 1975. Itās got taxidermy, deer and moose, and local high school pennants. In the late '80s, it moved from its original location on Ferndale Road in northeast Dallas, settling into the same place youāll find it now on Upper Greenville.
āBack when I was growing up, there wasnāt a whole lot of jobs,ā Collard says.
Heās owned the joint for three years, working his way up year after year from being a dishwasher as a young man at another barbecue joint.
Reaching the end of the cafeteria line, pie in a bowl traveling with you, thereās that childlike joy again ā itās from reaching the register with the clattering-tray ready for food.
āItāll be about eight minutes, if thatās OK?ā the server says.
The burgerās getting lashed by the fire of the grill.
I say, āSure!ā without a consideration in the world because thatās what you say in a cafeteria line. Ride the rides and shut up at Back Country.
The cheeseburger is a pure thing, too: Itās simply salted and fire-grilled. American cheese, if you want, draped over the 20% fat beef patty. Iceberg lettuce and thinly-sliced tomatoes are on the side. Nothing else.
Pickles and onions or whatever are at the relish bar, and they toss a Kraft packet of mayonnaise, if youāre that kind of person. Itās a great backyard meal.
The chopped brisket is better, the juicy-oils soaking into the top layer of the bun. Itās best to dip in the tangy jus of the barbecue sauce while itās piping hot.
āThis trendy stuff?ā Collard asks rhetorically, āI donāt know if itāll last.ā
Sitting in Back Countryās dining room, watching the cafeteria line filling up quickly with families and construction workers in the bright orange vests, hearing the gravely voice of the man chomping on a cigar in the table near the back, one can imagine a trend-free barbecue future is a refreshing Kool-Aid to drink.
Back Country Bar-B-Q, 6940 Greenville Ave. (Upper Greenville). 10:30 a.m.-9 p.m. Monday-Thursday, 10:30 a.m.-9 p.m. Friday-Saturday, 10:30 a.m.-8 p.m. Sunday. backcountrybbq.com, 214-696-6940.