The Scribe of Smoke: Part 4 - Texas Monthly 2013

Texas Tech student Kristen Witherspoon made this drawing of Daniel Vaughn for a class project, and now is his Instagram avatar.

In 2013, for the first time in history, barbecue had its own full-time editor. Daniel Vaughn, known to many as the BBQ Snob (@bbqsnob on Instagram), made the leap from architect to cultural steward of ’que when he was named Texas Monthly’s first-ever Barbecue Editor—a role no other major publication had ever dared to create. Previously armed with a blog that logged over 600 barbecue joint visits, Vaughn joining Texas Monthly meant he wasn’t just documenting the scene—he was helping define it and bring it into the national spotlight.

Even in its introduction, the 2013 issue of Texas Monthly’s Top 50 BBQ Joints couldn’t avoid the eternal question: Where did barbecue actually come from? Was it born in the barbacoa pits of Caribbean tribes? Refined in German-Czech meat markets? Or carved into cultural identity somewhere deep in the heart of Texas? Despite four decades of coverage and rankings, Texas Monthly still acknowledged that barbecue is a messy, storied blend of cultures, history, and fiercely held opinions. And while we were still trying to find the roots of ’que, the craft was evolving faster than ever.

That evolution showed up clearly in the list itself. For the first time, Texas Monthly narrowed the spotlight, naming a Top 4 instead of a shared crown or sprawling top tier. Only 18 joints from previous editions made a return, and two—Big Boy’s Bar-B-Que and Bob’s Bar-B-Que—re-emerged a full decade later after their last appearance in 2003. Neither had made the cut in 2008, making their return in 2013 a quiet reminder that longevity still had its place. But the tone of the list felt different—leaner, more intentional, less about lineage and more about the bold challengers daring to seize the crown. And no one embodied that shift more than the new king of brisket.

Franklin Barbecue wasn’t just crowned—it was canonized. In a few short years, Aaron Franklin had gone from backyard pitmaster with a hand-me-down smoker to the face of a new era in Texas barbecue. Taking the Number 1 spot in 2013, what had started as a humble trailer off I-35 had become a national pilgrimage site, with lines stretching down the block before the sun came up and brisket selling out before noon. Franklin’s meticulous attention to fire, fat, and time redefined what was possible with a slice of smoked beef. And this wasn’t just a win for one restaurant—it was a cultural shift. No longer was great barbecue confined to century-old meat markets or small-town smokehouses. The best brisket in Texas to Texas Monthly was now coming from Austin, served on butcher paper, from a guy in jeans and a T-shirt, out of a joint that didn’t exist five years earlier.

Still holding strong in the Top 4 was Snow’s BBQ, the reigning champ from 2008. While Franklin may have seized the helm of the kingdom of Texas barbecue, the queen hadn’t abdicated her throne. Tootsie Tomanetz, then in her late seventies, continued to man the pits like a warrior monk, stoking fires before sunrise and turning out some of the most soulful meat in the state. Snow’s remained a symbol of tradition done right—a small-town joint, open only on Saturdays, that proved heart, consistency, and reverence for the craft still held weight in a rapidly evolving scene.

Pecan Lodge, too, earned its place at the royal table—a sign that world-class barbecue wasn’t just a Central Texas affair anymore. From its beginnings at the Dallas Farmers Market to lines that rivaled Franklin’s, this was no mere upstart—it was a contender for the crown. Pitmasters Justin and Diane Fourton brought a blend of backyard grit and chef-level precision, turning out brisket, ribs, and burnt ends that rivaled anything south of the Brazos. Their rise marked a shift: barbecue wasn’t just surviving in big cities—it was thriving, proving that Dallas could throw elbows at Austin in the battle for barbecue dominance.

Rounding out the Top 4 was Louie Mueller Barbecue, the old guard of Texas barbecue. Founded in 1949 and still smoking strong in Taylor, the name Mueller wasn’t just a legacy—it was a standard. Pitmaster Wayne Mueller kept to the night watch, tending to the smoke-stained cathedral in Taylor with a quiet confidence that only comes from decades of doing it right. In a kingdom of rising stars and shifting power, Louie Mueller remained a sovereign presence.

The 2013 Texas Monthly list was more than just a ranking—it was a royal decree. A new monarch had risen, the realm was shifting, and the smoke signals could be seen from every corner of the state. Franklin had claimed the crown, but the court was full of worthy rulers: Snow’s kept the sacred flame burning, Louie Mueller stood guard like an elder statesman, and newcomers like Pecan Lodge charged in like knights earning their place at the round table.

This was a coronation—and a reminder that in the kingdom of Texas barbecue, tradition and transformation must share the throne.

Daniel Vaughn’s rise from rogue chronicler to official scribe marked the moment the pitmasters became legends and their stories became scripture. In the smoke kingdom of meat, no throne stays warm for long—the fire of the next heir is lit daily and the smoked scepter awaits its next hand.