Garland dad Greg Artkop is sitting at Smokey Joe’s BBQ in southern Dallas, his first stop on a quest to eat at Texas’ 50 best barbecue ts. It’s a meaty journey that could take him up to 15,000 miles across the state within one year.
Artkop has made it his mission to spend weekends away from his full-time job as director of public affairs, communications and sustainability at Coca-Cola Southwest Beverages in Dallas, instead eating peppery brisket and cheese-laced sausage in tiny Texas towns. His rubric is Texas Monthly’s list of top 50 barbecue ts, released every four years. He totes a pocket-sized “port” to all 50 spots and gets a stamp at the checkout line of each restaurant.
Texas Monthly released its latest list earlier this month. It will be the third time Artkop has trekked to all 50 on the list.
This pastime demands patience. The father of three wrote a children’s book, Baby’s First BBQ, while waiting 15 hours in line at Snow’s in Lexington.
A naturally enthusiastic guy, Artkop will be first to say the obsession is a delightful adventure — one he’s enjoyed with his two daughters and son, his wife and his dad. But there’s a hint of hardship in the journey this time around.
Artkop will spend his first Father’s Day without his dad, who died in early May 2025 at the age of 83. The elder Greg Artkop was amused by his son’s barbecue chronicles, if a little baffled at first. But in his retirement, Artkop’s dad bought an offset smoker and learned to appreciate the food his son so loved.
Artkop looks forward to carting the smoker back to his house this month and using it in his dad’s honor.
“It’s the hardest part about Father’s Day,” Artkop said, “not having him here.”
His dad was laid to rest five days before Father’s Day.
Artkop crumples a greasy napkin in his hand, the eighth one in a pile on a picnic table at Smokey Joe’s. He smiles earnestly, not allowing himself to get pulled under by a wave of fresh grief as he begins his barbecue quest on Father’s Day week.
There’s brisket to eat.
‘Everything is driven by barbecue’
It’s Tuesday at 11:30 a.m., and Artkop stands second in line. He rattles off his Smokey Joe’s order like he’s done this before. A half-pound of moist brisket. One sausage link. Half-a-pound of turkey. Beans. Mac and cheese.
And a stamp on the port, please.
Artkop beams at the first red circle in his book. He’s brought his two paper ports, worn but well-kept, and filled with stamps from the last two times he made this pilgrimage.
Those stamps are stories crammed on one page. Every restaurant, he said, has a story to tell.
Despite living in the Lone Star State for 47 years, he hadn’t traveled the corners of Texas until his first barbecue journey in 2017. The first attempt took him three years, and he became smarter as time ed. He now orders meat a la carte, by the quarter pound if it’s allowed, instead of the generous barbecue platters that cost big bucks and feed too many.
“It’s always brisket and sausage. I don’t get dessert. Usually no mac; it’s too carby,” Artkop said. “And I don’t even know what the sauce tastes like.”
Ah yes, that new-school barbecue rule: Many connoisseurs eat barbecue without the sauce, intending to savor the spices, smoke and meat in their purest form.
That said, rules are made to be broken. Artkop is strictly a no-sauce guy, but the thing about no dessert and no mac? Well, that depends on where he is. He was floored by the chocolate cake at Truth BBQ in Houston, even though he was so stuffed from the main course. The mac and cheese at Smokey Joe’s in Dallas was a worthy exception, too, with its shells swimming in cheddar, Parmesan and flecks of pepper.
Artkop won’t guess how many thousands of dollars he’s spent visiting the 50 barbecue ts the first two times. Or how many days he’s eaten the leftovers for lunch.
His travels have become a memoir to the past decade of his life. He blogged his 2021 experience, choosing to share anecdotes from the places he saw and the people he met, rather than review every bite. (“There are only so many ways you can describe brisket,” he said.)
He ticks off Texas towns he’s come to love. Crockett. Lexington. Lockhart. Seguin. Taylor.
“Why would you go there?” he asks rhetorically about any given spot on the map.
“For the best damn barbecue.”
Any errand or trip could include a stopover for smoked meat. To make the planning easier, Artkop and his friends share spreadsheets with notable menu items, addresses and hours — which can be irregular.
“You go to Fort Worth, and oh, Goldee’s is there,” he said. It was the No. 1 spot on the Top 50 list in 2021 and the No. 3 spot this year.
“You go to a [Dallas Cowboys] football game, and sure, Zavala’s is on the way.”
He laughs. “Everything is driven by barbecue.”
Thankfully, his kids and parents seem to enjoy his sport, and they’ll him for plates of brisket and sides if the location is convenient or the line isn’t too long.
Among Artkop’s two best friends, one loves it. The other doesn’t. But both go.
“It’s appreciated and tolerated at the same time,” Artkop said.
Where it all started
Artkop’s first food love was Pecan Lodge.
It “likely put me on my current path of barbecue insanity,” he said.
The restaurant opened at the Dallas Farmers Market in 2010, then a single stand serving some of the best barbecue in the state. Soon, the Food Network heard about it, and Pecan Lodge was featured on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. In 2014, owners Justin and Diane Fourton moved to a standalone restaurant in Deep Ellum, where Tom Cruise stopped in a few weeks ago, ahead of a Mission Impossible premiere.
When Artkop ate Pecan Lodge’s smoked brisket for the first time, he felt an awakening — an understanding of this style of food.
Oh my god, he re thinking. “You don’t know brisket can taste like that, until you see someone doing it really, really well.”
He learned that good barbecue is worth the wait.
“I will stand in line now — it doesn’t matter to me," he said. “Some people complain, and I wonder, ‘Why would you complain about food someone took 12 hours to make? You can’t wait an hour?’
Reality check.
“Or two or three?”
He arrived the evening before Snow’s opened with a chair and 12-pack of Shiner to share. He wanted to be first — and he was. Artkop can say he knew about Snow’s before its 90-year-old female pitmaster Tootsie Tomanetz was featured on the Netflix show Chef’s Table, catapulting the restaurant into international fame.
He slept in his foldable camp chair.
“I still have neck pains from it,” he said.
Despite the difficulties of traveling for barbecue, Artkop loves it. He said a drive to Snow’s is the best barbecue adventure of his life. He’s done it eight times.
He re it wistfully, even with the crick in his neck.
“The sound of the cattle lowing at night is so peaceful,” he said.
He wrote a second children’s book, Moon Over Snow’s, from Snow’s porch in 2024. And he chatted with friends all evening, until legendary pitmaster Tomanetz arrived in the wee hours. Fans snap her photo like she’s a celebrity.
Then, after hours of traveling, sitting and barely sleeping comes the best part of the Snow’s experience. The owners open the doors at 8 a.m. sharp.
Artkop grins.
“Barbecue for breakfast.”
Barbecue grandpa
As Artkop looks to Father’s Day, his memory dips back to Mother’s Day two years ago. He drove the women in the family to the Dallas Arboretum and dropped them off. What should the guys do?
He took his dad and father-in-law to Terry Black’s Barbecue in Deep Ellum. They spent two hours telling stories and eating barbecue, two things Artkop does very well.
In the coming year, he’ll plot out dozens of weekends of travel, to the Rio Grande Valley, West Texas, Austin and more. He’ll learn more about small towns he didn’t know were there.
Mourning the loss of his dad, he looks forward to a new beginning: Artkop will become a grandfather in July.
He has two children’s books — based on barbecue, of course — ready and waiting.