At peak hours, the lines invariably stretch out the back door. Patiently, you inch your way forward, passing the waist-high brick pits and perusing the list of post oak-smoked meats (brisket, pork ribs and chops, shoulder clod, sausage, prime rib). Salivating, you finally place your order for a pound or so of meat (in this ancient hall there are no platters or sandwiches). You pay with cash or check (here there is no debit or credit). You proceed to the high-ceilinged dining room, staring at the meats on your butcher paper (here there are no plates). At last, faint from hunger, you squeeze in at one of the long communal tables and tear into some of the finest barbecue in Texas.