
See? I didn't forget the apostrophe. There isn't one.
Driving down a crowded boulevard in L.A., one of my kids asked “Dad, what’s all that smoke up there?” I let her know, “it’s either a car fire or, if we’re lucky, it’s dinner.”
I had heard from several sources that Phillips Bar-B-Que was some of the best in town. Spotting a murky cloud of smoke from about four blocks away certainly was a good way to start backing up that claim.
Pulling up, you can tell what kind of experience Phillips is going to be. A small, somewhat shabby place with no tables, a guy with his pants on the ground digging through a garbage can just outside, a (damned) long line of people waiting inside, and smiling customers walking out with grocery sized bags of barbecue.
Using my daughters as an excuse, I ordered about three times more food than I should have. A dinner of baby back ribs, another dinner of sliced beef, and a pulled pork sandwich. The dinners came with two sides, so I went with the beans and slaw.

There are lots of reasons to go to Phillips. This sandwich is not one of them.
I have to say, I was a bit worried when I got my food because the first thing I opened was the pulled pork sandwich.
I could see right away the pork had “too popular disease” (aka: it was a pile of mush). I remain convinced that the busier a restaurant gets, the mushier their pulled pork becomes. It makes sense – these places have to cook a mountain of it in advance, so it probably sits there stewing in heaps for hours at a time, which is a sure formula for turning pork into mashed potatoes. I took a quick bite with my fork, it had the texture of wet sand, and my reaction was “oh no.”

Now we're talking. With our mouths full. Phillips' baby back ribs.
Fortunately, I opened the ribs next, and they looked spectacular. What a relief.
We’re definitely talking about a South Texas style of barbecue at Phillips. Like Jones BBQ in Seattle, the ribs were completely swimming in a thick bath of sweet, face-staining barbecue sauce. I recognize a lot of people like their barbecue this way, but generally speaking, it isn’t my favorite style. If I went back, I’d order the sauce on the side. But I put my preferences aside, and soaked it up both literally and figuratively.
The ribs were great, and saved the pulled pork from nuking Phillips’ reputation. I could have and would have eaten more than I did, but theoretically, it was my daughter’s dinner.

Mystery meat simply called "sliced beef." It comes from a cow, what else do you need to know?
Writing this, I decided to go to my refrigerator to look at the “sliced beef” again. I’m not sure what’s up with the ambiguous name, because it really looks like tri-tip to me. Anyway, like the ribs, the beef had to be served in a bowl like container because of all the sauce. It was thinly sliced and tender, but didn’t crumble which was good. The best part about the beef, though, was the smoke flavor really came through. Moreso than on either the ribs or the pork. So….It wasn’t a car fire after all.
The beef was addicting, but I’d probably say the ribs were the main attraction.
Bottom line, Phillips is a great choice for the style of barbecue it offers. Soaking wet, sweet, messy, smoky and served with two slices of plain white bread. You won’t confuse their swampy entrees with competition style barbecue, but so what? It was fun to eat, and tasted great.
Oh, order the sweet potato pie. It was awesome. I told myself I was going to eat a few bites. But after one small taste, I practically shoved the rest of the whole thing in my face at once.