Jason S.
Google
I came to Wilber’s Barbecue on Highway 70 because Matt Moore flagged it in his book The South’s Best Butts—but what I got was more than a meal: it was a walk through one of Eastern North Carolina’s most intact whole-hog traditions.
Willis Underwood, part of the local group that brought Wilber’s back after it closed in 2019, generously showed me how the process still runs pit-centric. Wilber’s has been here since 1962, founded by Wilber Shirley, and it remains known for cooking whole hogs over hardwood coals on open pits.
Out back, the story starts with wood: split oak delivered in bulk, stacked daily, and burned down into a bed of coals. Those coals are moved—literally shovel by shovel—into the smokehouse, where decades of cooking have darkened the brick into a glossy, smoke-sealed patina.
Inside, the pits run in a long line like a corridor. The hogs arrive pre-prepped and are hung briefly in refrigeration by a remaining leg—an efficient way to handle the animals and stage them for the pit. They’re cooked slow over the coals, then finished to tighten and crisp the skin.
Willis pointed out a detail I won’t forget: after he installed overhead lights, the longtime pitmaster asked to keep them off. He doesn’t “cook by the clock.” He gauges doneness by the look and sound of the drippings hitting the coals—a kind of sensory calibration that only comes from decades standing in the same heat, listening to the same fire.
I took my seat inside the restaurant and before the pork even arrived, Wilber’s set the tone with the sides. They brought a basket of hushpuppies and a bowl of gravy—something I’d never had together. The hushpuppies were crisp outside and soft inside with just a little chew, and the gravy was the perfect counterpoint: warm, savory, and just loose enough to moisten each bite without drowning it.
Then came the plate: chopped pork that was glazed with a tang-forward vinegar sauce, pepper flecks scattered throughout, and smoke that doesn't need to announce itself—exactly what you want in Eastern North Carolina barbecue.
The sides weren’t afterthoughts; they were part of the balance. The coleslaw was classic ENC: green-only chopped cabbage, vinegar bright with just enough mayo to hold it together—fresh, clean, and built to reset your palate between bites of pork. The barbecue potatoes were soft and comforting, carrying a background note of mild smoke that echoed the pit without competing with it.
Some places serve barbecue like a product. Wilber’s serves it like a process: oak to coals, coals to pits, drippings to judgment, and finally a plate that tastes like the method.