As at the flagship Terry Black’s, in Austin, the scores of people taking photos of themselves set off our tourist-trap alarm bells. But our concern was misplaced: this is first-rate barbecue. We carefully carried our grease-soaked bundle of butcher paper to our table outside, as if it were a little meat baby, then tore into it with animal vigor. We’d visited multiple joints already that day, but we finished nearly everything. The brisket was covered in so much pepper it was almost spicy, but not so much that it distracted from the smokiness of the meat. Even the turkey, the pitfall of many a pitmaster, was a win: the exterior was crispy, but the meat’s moistness wasn’t compromised at all.