Ryan M.
Yelp
Yelp has forced me to truncate my review to 5,000 characters, so I won't waste space on a lengthy introduction. What matters is the food, so read and learn why Burnt Bean is my go-to place for Texas barbecue.
The brisket at Burnt Bean is a revelation, a testament to the prowess of pitmaster Ernest Servantes, who has honed his alchemy through years on the competition circuit. Smoked low and slow over oak, the brisket emerges with a midnight-black crust that's crisp yet yielding, encasing a core of beef that's tender, salted perfectly, and studded with rivulets of collagen. The fat cap is rendered to a glossy sheen, imparting an umami richness that's balanced by a subtle seasoning (salt, pepper, and smoke), highlighting the beef's natural flavor.
The Moroccan-spiced lamb ribs (a weekend special) are a bold departure from Texas barbecue norms, showcasing Burnt Bean's willingness to push boundaries. These ribs arrive with a deeply spiced crust -- think cumin, coriander, and a hint of paprika -- that contrasts beautifully with the tender, slightly gamey flesh beneath. Each bite offers a smoky, aromatic complexity, the oak smoke weaving through the lamb's robust flavor, tempered by a gentle rendering of fat (see my photo) that keeps it moist without overwhelming. A drizzle of house-made chimichurri adds a welcome burst of acidity that cuts through the richness of the dish. Referring to these ribs as "barbecue" feels like a reductive oversimplification; they are a culinary event, an unpretentious fusion of ethnic influences.
The Korean beef ribs are another standout among Burnt Bean's weekend specials, marrying the joint's smoke mastery with an East Asian flair. These hefty short ribs boast a thick, beef-forward profile, slow-smoked until the meat pulls effortlessly from the bone, then glazed with a sticky, slightly spicy gochujang sauce that caramelizes under the heat. The result is a blend of smoky depth and sweet-savory punch, with a caramelized char.
The enormous pork steak, a Thursday special, emerges as a sleeper hit among the beef-centric lineup, proving that pork can hold its own against beef at this temple of barbecue. Slow-smoked to a golden hue, this "steak" retains a juicy, pull-apart interior that's a far cry from the dry, overcooked versions found elsewhere. Weighing in at approximately 32 ounces (my estimation), it's a hefty cut that demands attention, its simplicity belying the skill required to keep it tender. Check out the video of me cutting into the meat with a plastic fork. If that doesn't entice you, then you're either an emaciated vegetarian or you're dead.
The barbacoa boudin is a creative fusion, blending South Texas tradition with a Cajun-inspired twist. This sausage combines the unctuous, slow-cooked richness of barbacoa (think shredded beef cheek or shoulder, seasoned with a hint of smoke and spice) with the snappy casing and spiced rice stuffing of a classic boudin. The result is a smoky, savory link, the tender barbacoa mingling with the subtle grit of rice and a peppery kick that ties it all together. The accompanying side of spicy brown sauce (I suspect a mix of soy and Thai chili) tempers the richness and adds even more complexity.
Brisket huevos rancheros, served during Burnt Bean's Sunday breakfast, reimagines a Tex-Mex classic with a barbecue twist. A base of crisp corn tostadas (fried fresh on the premises) supports a generous slab of stellar smoked brisket, topped with sunny-side-up eggs whose yolks ooze into the mix like liquid gold. Salsa -- fresher, spicier, and brighter than the iterations found at most dedicated Tex-Mex joints -- adds a zesty lift, cutting through the brisket's richness with cilantro, onion, and a touch of lime, while a dusting of cotija cheese lends a salty finish. It's a hearty, soul-warming dish that pays homage to Servantes' family traditions, bridging the gap between barbecue and breakfast.
The German chocolate cake at Burnt Bean is a dessert that any bakery would be proud to call its own. This isn't a throwaway sweet; it's a towering slab of moist chocolate cake layered with coconut-pecan frosting, sticky and indulgent with a caramel-like depth of flavor. The cake itself is tender, almost fudgy, offering a bittersweet counterpoint to the topping's sweetness, while the local Texas pecans add a welcome crunch. It's a nod to Texas' German heritage, executed with the same care as the smoked offerings. The cake sells out quickly, so come early.
Burnt Bean isn't just a barbecue joint; it's a destination where tradition meets innovation, where every bite reflects the pitmasters' journey from competition to national culinary acclaim. Whether it's the impeccable brisket (my favorite in the state), the boundary-pushing lamb and Korean beef ribs, or the hearty breakfast and dessert options, this spot delivers an unforgettable experience. At peak times, expect roughly an hour-long wait, a minor inconvenience considering the bounty that awaits.