In Search of Perfect Barbecue, or is That BBQ?

How "Bad" is Bad Brad?
Our second stop on our great BBQ tour was a tad out of the way from our temporary THG HQ set up at a local Days Inn. (We'd love to get into THAT part of the story right now, but all we'll say is: Indian owners, Indian food, bullets in the parking lot.)

Instead of doing The Head Country thing right away we decided to give the taste of Dougan's a chance to dissipate and headed to Pawhuska, OK where we landed at Bad Brad's Bar-B-Q Joint. With a business card that boldly states "Best Bar-B-Q in Oklahoma, Kansas and Texas!" we figured Bad Brad had better impress us. We put on our most skeptical faces and sat down amidst tons of cowboy memorabilia – including some honest-to-god cowboys! Actually, they weren't part of the display, they were just there for lunch.

While Dougan's and Head Country feature meat that definitely takes its taste cues from the legendary Head Country Sauce (yep, despite the controversy good sauce is still good sauce!), Bad Brad's benefits from the smokehouse that sits next to the restaurant. The food has a powerfully smoky, but not unpleasant, flavor and a juicy moistness that's hard to describe. We took plenty of leftovers back to the ranch and they were still succulent a day or two later when we fished 'em out during a late-night food raid. Still, as good as Brad's was, it appeared that the battle for BBQ supremacy would come down to Head Country vs. Dougan's.

With Dougan's and Bad Brad's under our ever-expanding belt, it was time to taste the flavor-standard. The torch-bearer. The grand damme of the Ponca City BBQ scene. No, not Helen Hayes. Ick! No, it was time for Head Country, where the sauce and food are rumored to be so excellent that adolescent snickers about their name are a thing of the past. Or, is that just another urban legend???

Unfortunately, our previous BBQ excursions (not to mention breakfast at The Cornerstone and Mexican food from Enrique's) had left us looking like cast-offs from a Big Fat Elvis special! I even bought new jeans – amid remarks that I was a long way from a "slim fit" cut – but it was to no avail. My co-conspirators wanted to eat in, which was probably better when you consider the guttural groans and squeals of culinary glee that accompanied the meal. Even my sister-in-law, a longtime Ponca resident and self-described BBQ expert, went so far as to suggest that Head Country's meal of chicken breast, brisket, ribs, and pork was the "best" overall BBQ meal she'd ever had. And, as I grossed everybody out by eating my Wendy's fries with mayo and Head Country sauce, I had to agree. It was the crème de la crème of the entire food orgy. The piece de resistance. Ah, hell, it was friggin' great!

As I lay in bed that night, listening for the sound of Sterno-drinking Poncan Indians stumbling through the parking lot, my mind was reeling. I'd just had the best BBQ I'd probably ever sink my teeth into. How did Head Country get it to be so succulent? How did they make that incredible sauce? What the hell is that fluid in the Magic 8-Ball? Somehow, I needed to know the answers. I needed to call on my journalistic wiles. Or, I could just ask JT – the unofficial mayor of Ponca City – if he could get me a tour of the plant.

Join us in Head Country... no snickering!