Digital subscribers can listen to this article.
Subscribe today for unlimited access to Texas Monthly. Already a subscriber? Log in.
Chris Brenton, a 36-year-old software engineer in Brooklyn, hails from Houston, where his favorite local spots are Truth Barbeque and Goode Company Barbeque. But in New York, he’s had a hard time getting his smoked-meat fix.
“[In] the places I’ve lived that aren’t Texas, people are always like, ‘Oh, you have to trust me, this one’s actually good,’ ” he says. “And I go in, and it never is. I have tried a couple in New York. The results have not been positive enough for me to keep trying.”
That may be a little harsh. The current New York barbecue scene, while not what it once was, still includes stalwart Hometown Bar-B-Que; Dominican-Texan Bark Barbecue, which just got a new location; and Caribbean-influenced up-and-comer Jase’s BBQ. But the five boroughs have never seen a place with quite as much Texas pedigree as the eagerly anticipated Kirbee’s BBQ. The restaurant, in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, is a collaboration between two Texas Monthly Top 50 pitmasters: Jonny White, formerly of Goldee’s Barbecue, in Fort Worth (which was the number one joint in 2021), and Chuck Charnichart, of Barbs B Q, in Lockhart. And it’s no mere part-time spin-off, as both White and Charnicart have moved to New York.
Named in part after White’s dog, Kirbee’s is in a small space on McGuiness Boulevard, with neighbors that include a print shop and a custom car-stereo installer. But despite the intersection’s garage-y vibe, you won’t find an outdoor pit or offset smoker there. All of the Kirbee’s meats are cooked in smoker ovens, using post oak chips.
Of course—true to the culture of Texas barbecue—you’ll have to wait in line to try them. During the joint’s soft launch, on August 30, the line was around the block. But the line for the official opening, on September 4, proved to be more manageable. At the front was the tireless New York City food influencer Mike Chau, who’d driven by during the soft launch and decided not to chance it. But he showed up to the hard open and secured a good spot in line alongside Luke Fortney of The New York Times and Scott Lynch of Hell Gate and Brooklyn Magazine. “I hear that this is some of the best barbecue in the country, so we’re very excited about it,” Lynch said.
I’d arrived a little after 10 a.m. and was prepared to wait for several hours, but to my surprise, I was seventh in line. Brenton, who had been twenty-fifth in line for the soft launch, was fourth this time.
I chatted with my line mates. In front of me was Johnny Cagno, who looked the very picture of Brooklyn cool with his trucker hat, mustache, and sleeveless “What the f— is bedroom pop” T-shirt. He’s eaten his share of barbecue in Austin at Terry Black’s and Franklin, and he moved to Brooklyn from Boston a month ago. Behind me was Dennis Cheng, who was wearing a Bark Barbecue hat and was ready to eat at Kirbee’s for the third time, having also attended a preview in Manhattan a few weeks back.
Like Goldee’s and Barbs, Kirbee’s is only open Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, with posted hours of 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. “We kind of need the line, to cut all the food fresh,” White said when I caught him outside the restaurant. “And then we make everything from scratch too. So that takes all week.”
The beef-rib plate. Scott Lynch 
Customers dining inside. Scott Lynch
As 11 a.m. approached, a worker taped a laminated menu to the outside wall. Annie Griffith, a baker who’d worked with some of the Kirbee’s crew at Goldee’s, Franklin, and Micklethwait, had come to Brooklyn just for fun and was standing in the line at the soft launch when her pals pulled her out of the line and handed her a Kirbee’s T-shirt so she could help out with the crush. Now she had come back for more.
Griffith explained the process to those of us who were eating there for the first time: You step up to the first window and order, your meat is cut by either Charnichart or White, and then you go to the next window to pay and get your food (and also add dessert and drinks, if you wish). Kirbee’s has, as Griffith puts it, “a linear menu,” instead of the à la carte menu more prevalent at Texas barbecue joints. There are four options: Jonny’s Plate ($45) comes with some Goldee’s-inspired hits, including brisket, ribs, turkey, a kale-and-cabbage slaw, and potato salad; Chuck’s Plate ($45) includes Charnichart’s brisket, ribs, sausage, charro beans, and Barbs’ iconic green spaghetti; the beef-rib plate ($90) has a giant beef rib with the slaw and green spaghetti; and the slider plate ($30) highlights two chopped brisket sandwiches on buttery house-made rolls with slaw and chips. All plates come with bread, pickles, and pickled onions. For dessert, customers can select a chocolate pudding à la Barbs (Griffith told me it tastes similar to Abuelita, the traditional Mexican hot chocolate) or a banana pudding à la Goldee’s. “Let me know how much banana you taste,” Griffith said, which was when I remembered from reading the Goldee’s cookbook that the Goldee’s banana pudding has no actual bananas in it.
The “plates” come in clamshells for easy takeout, but you can also dine outside at a standing counter or inside at a small number of tight, rectangular four-tops. I sat down inside, where both the kitchen and the customers were enjoying the Broooklyn-esque music choice of the Strokes’ Is This It playing over the audio system.
When I was talking to some of the diners that day, some said they liked the simplicity of the menu and the curation of the plates, while others wished they could get more of their favorite meats, especially the turkey and sausage. (Unwilling to miss out, I bought both of the pitmasters’ plates, which had enough to feed three people). The price of the beef-rib plate has also become a talking point on social media, though given the current price of beef and the time and effort involved to smoke it—and, oh yeah, what rent and other costs are in Brooklyn compared to in Fort Worth or Lockhart—that number didn’t seem that crazy. (A week later, a bakery opened in Manhattan and took the heat off Kirbee’s with its $60 loaf of rye bread).
The meats were all terrific, though, since I’ve never been to Barbs, the two sides on Chuck’s Plate stole the show for me: The green spaghetti was kicky, spicy, and creamy all at the same time, and the mind-blowingly good beans were lighter than your average brisket-laden beans but still laced with delightful hot dog slices. I also appreciated that the pickles were spicy and dilly rather than bread-and-butter sweet.
As I was about to leave, I invited a man in a gray TCU Horned Frogs baseball cap to slide behind my almost-vacant table. Bob Maund is also in media, albeit on the business side, and he splits his time between Fort Worth and Brooklyn. Already a Goldee’s fan, he had been eagerly awaiting this day.
As the writers and content creators in line worked up their posts, I checked back in with Brenton, the New York barbecue skeptic. His verdict: The brisket was “super lush . . . really jiggly. A perfect cook to it, and a perfect trim. Doesn’t need sauce, not that brisket ever needs sauce.” In the past, instead of continuing to seek out barbecue around New York, Brenton would order Snow’s from Goldbelly for house parties. “But now,” he said, “I can take people to Kirbee’s.”
Read Next
Dining and Cooking