The only tables are schoolhouse desks covered in graffiti and the clientele ranges from Lubbock old-bloods to frat boys. The owners wrap up lean brisket in a grilled bun, douse it in a ladle of the meat’s juices, and then let you add condiments: sweet relish, pickle chips, onions, a fiery sauce. The sandwiches—turkey, brisket, or ham—are so miraculous we didn’t need no stinking sides, which is good, since nothing is offered but chips. Go early: They serve till they run out.  (2/13)