Hang Fire Smokehouse- The Canadian/Porter's- Cardiff

It's always fun trying a new restaurant with family, although there's always the nagging worry the children might not quite share your enthusiasm and file it under 'embarrassing things adults go on and on about'. You know you're in the right place when, immediately after his first bite, your son raises shining eyes and asks, with that guilelessness of the young, "So, when can we come back here again...?"

My expectations were high- word was out that something was afoot in Splott. The commitment to providing top-notch, authentic Southern barbecue had been read about; Sam and Shauna's half-year quest to learn direct from the source, travelling the states in search of that slow, secret alchemy that changes humble chunks of meat into something you will queue ('cue?) up for. These ladies took this seriously.

 From the exterior The Canadian (Pearl St) is your fairly standard-looking backstreet pub, yet Fridays and Saturdays see it transformed into a slice of The Deep South. Posters and slideshows set the mood, as does the soundtrack. The welcome is warm and personable and you know, you just know, that you'd have to go out of your way to have a bad time here. A few words with Shauna (hopefully not interrupting her pre-match ritual too much...) and we were raring to go.

The initial omens were good- as Chris Froome was preparing to complete the last stage of this year's Tour and set the seal on his unchallenged victory procession through Paris, my eye was immediately drawn to a seasonal speciality at the bar.

 We each ordered different plates. The young 'un went for the pulled pork sandwich; my wife had the chicken and I went straight for the ribs. It arrived on paper plates, with wooden forks. This is no-frills presentation, which fits perfectly; as Shauna points out, this was the food of the poor, of making the most of basic ingredients and maximising flavour and texture through care and attention and time.

Time. "Your dinner tonight was started yesterday..."

 Sticky and sweet and  tender and juicy. Succulent. Seductive, even. Melting. Look, just add any word you want here, because it really is that good. All of it. It's exactly as good as you'd hoped. The fries- so often an afterthought- were perfect and beautifully seasoned; the coleslaw was all crisp and crunch and lightness, light with spring onion and red peppers.  Mrs S, who knows about these things and is a bit of a 'slaw supremo, reckoned this "one of the best I've ever tried." The sides ('fixin's') were completed by BBQ beans- spiked with chilli and rich with smoked, shredded pork- and a paprika-buttered corn cob.

A special mention for the ribs- the meagre examples chain pubs will charge you upwards of £11 for, and which have you silently wondering if their donor animal was on hunger strike at the time, are presented in all their intended meaty magnificence here at the Hangfire. You'll never go for the skinny substitute again.

 The Aftermath...there was only ever going to be one winner.

By the time the bones had been picked clean we were all planning a rematch. My only criticism- and criticism itself seems too harsh a word, perhaps wish would be better- was that I would have loved the option to have a side portion of pulled pork as a 'fixin''- and that was only because, with three of us eating together, I got the chance to sample it and immediately wanted more. More.

 So when the chance of a visit to the Sunday Smokehouse in the city centre came up, it seemed rude not to...

A dreaded sunny day,
So let's go where we're happy 
And I'll meet you at the barbecue pit...

was the odd refrain running through my mind as I met up with the rest of the family at Porter's, after some footling mix-up over cashpoint cards and an unplanned detour home. (Perhaps it was the simple equation, 'Hangfire + meat + me = happiness' which probably never made it to the Open University broadcasts of the 1970s but was rapidly becoming my personal mantra.)

The Sunday 'BBQ Shack' session at Porter's was a family-friendly affair; giant Connect 4, mini golf and Jenga kept the many young ones busy in their covered area to the rear of the building. (It also provided a diversion from several old enough to know better...) Once again, the drill (grill drill, anyone?) was the same; turn up, hope you're in time, queue up, eat.  Enjoy the crackle of the tunes.

No frills, just feast.

The Sunday menu had some new additions; the intriguing 'Texas Hot Links' caught my eye.  Brandishing my Confirmed Carnivore card, I went for the 'three meats' option: a triple, half-portion sample of pulled pork, beef brisket and that spicy sausage. Incidentally I'm told that they often go by the name 'Hot Guts' back in what Mr A Partridge would call 'the good ole US of Stateside', which may or may not be a good thing. I suppose everyone should get to say, "I'm off to the Hangfire; I have a hankering for some Hot Guts this afternoon", just the once.

They were all spice and juice and snap. They are sourced from a local free range charcutier, Illtud llyr Dunsford (http://charcutierltd.wordpress.com/) and the ladies were proud of these being unavailable elsewhere. And having recently tried them at Bristol's Grillstock, the difference is clear; the natural casings are apparently what give these sausages their 'snap' so don't eat them unprepared. Their texture is moreishly coarse and meaty, with the paprika heat of a chorizo and fragrant with garlic and cayenne. The brisket and pork were everything they should be, the beef very lean but with a real depth of colour and flavour from  the 15 hours it had spent cooking. The pork...well, let the picture tell the story. Superb.

A note on the 'fixin's'- the pickles were from a local supplier and were just what was needed to cut through the richness of the pulled pork. The acidic tang of the carrot, green beans and cauliflower was right on the nose.

(I've just realised I've half-quoted Morrissey above. Morrissey. When discussing a smokehouse. Ah.)

 Seriously. Just look at that pulled pork.

It's decades since I've eaten mac and cheese. Next time I need comfort eating, I'll know where to go. The beans had smoky barbecue tang  and the 'slaw- very different from the sample we had at The Canadian- was full of freshness and crunch. The South Carolina mustard sauce was my sauce of choice and its sweet heat ticked every box going.

 A word for Porter's too; long may this joint venture continue, because rarely have I come across such amiable, helpful and engaging staff. Their Sunday afternoon film showings would be the perfect way to let a barbecue overdose slowly ebb away. Every bar should feel like this.

By this time I had eaten myself into a sense of general bonhomie as Shauna and Sam made their way round, chatting to customers and greeting regulars like old friends. Good company, a relaxed atmosphere, great food. And mini golf. But that's what The Hangfire does for you. It should be available on the NHS. 

So- a warm welcome, from people passionate about what they are doing. Excellent food. Relaxed surroundings. You'll have to be sharp- Shauna and Sam reckoned they had had to turn twenty or more people away the previous Friday at the Canadian because the level of demand was 'bedlam'. Porter's was sold out by the time we had finished our meals. 

But if you don't leave feeling that little bit more at one with the world and your fellow man, I'll eat my hat. Especially if it's been treated to a generous dollop of barbecue sauce and been slow-smoked.

Go already.

Hangfire homepage

charcutier.co.uk

Porter's Cardiff

JS