I’ve been counting down the days (errr…hours) to last Wednesday’s premiere of “Chef’s Table: BBQ” on Netflix but with my own set of reservations. While the “Chef’s Table” series has transcended the culinary docuseries into a visual masterpiece, when broaching the subject of BBQ, most miss the mark. Unfortunately, BBQ doesn’t always get the best treatment in cooking docuseries. The approach can be elitist and myopic, something BBQ is anything but, which I believe exploits its humble roots. “Chef’s Table” took a more modest approach, tackling the definition of BBQ with a global lens, using rich imagery and, at times, heartwrenching anecdotes to delve into the heart of this centuries-old craft. After watching the episodes in succession, with a rewatch in my not so distant future, I believe these are the tenets of BBQ that the series portrays.

BBQ is Fire, Smoke and Food
The question of “what is BBQ?” usually devolves into regional border wars, missing the foundational ingredients of what it actually is. It’s not sauces or a cut of meat, or even the animal; it’s the act of cooking food with fire, be it an open flame or chard embers. I love that the series drove the point home that this is not a carnivore-only affair. In fact, using fire to cook something as delicate as radicchio (like Lennox Hastie does in ep. 2) is an art form. And it’s presumptuous for us to think that our ancestors didn’t use the discovery of fire to do the same. I believe there is still much for us as BBQ enthusiasts to explore within this topic. Though, I think the odds of creating a complete definition of BBQ is as likely as us defining its proper spelling. (For the record, the correct way is “b-a-r-b-e-c-u-e” well…in my opinion at least.)

BBQ is Geographic
The U.S. BBQ border wars are notorious, with each region vying for bragging rights for the best bite. Sure it is mostly in good fun…mostly…but the reality is that what’s considered the best is incredibly subjective and a fool’s errand to determine. BBQ was created out of necessity, utilizing the food and fuel that was available, usually in excess. What makes it unique is just how localized each specialty really is. From the incredibly rare breed of pigs in the Yucatan region of Mexico to the excess of hogs farmed on the plantations of the Carolinas that were cooked whole, to the what was once uncommon cuts of beef sold at the city markets in Central Texas in the early to mid-twentieth century (i.e., brisket), these foods have become the hallmark of BBQ. The methods have stayed relatively the same while their notoriety continues to evolve.

BBQ is Relational
A common thread running throughout each episode (along with a majority of other episodes of “Chef’s Table”) is the value placed on the familial tradition that comes with a culinary craft like BBQ. But like in a lot of our lives, a family isn’t always defined by blood. Each story from this season describes a relationship forged over the coals of a BBQ pit and how the techniques of old (which, in Rosalia’s case, date back millennia) were passed down to this moment in time. Some stories did describe how blood relatives shaped their craft, creating strife within their families. Rodney Scott’s account of his decision to chart his own path by starting his restaurant in the big city of Charleston after years of tending the pits in his parent’s store in small-town Hemingway, South Carolina, is a common one in BBQ lore. But blood or not, these pitmasters have found their own families and communities through their love and mastery of BBQ.

BBQ isn’t Easy
One of the greatest fallacies within the realms of backyard BBQ pitmasters is the idea that they could match the quality of what they eat in a BBQ joint day in and day out. The reality is that making great (heck, even okay) BBQ is really hard, much less on a massive scale. One of my favorite scenes from the show is when Texas Monthly Barbecue Editor Daniel Vaughn explains that most pitmasters are willing to divulge their “secret recipes.” Even though in Central Texas where Snow’s BBQ resides, the recipe is just season meat with salt and pepper and cook it over chard oak wood. Vaughn says they’ll tell you at least that much and to have at it which, in reality, is far less helpful than one would think.

Because the magic of great BBQ is the sixth sense that these pitmasters possess. It’s adjusting to the external temperature and the humidity in the air, knowing the age of the wood you’re using for fuel, trimming enough fat within a quarter of an inch on a brisket flat to make sure it doesn’t dry out, and about a million other factors that you may learn how to handle with time. Tootsie Tomanetz (who I met on my #30flirtyandBBQ tour a few years ago) doesn’t even use a temperature gauge on her pits; she knows the temp by touching the lid (which would incinerate an average person’s digits). Pitmaster Roy Perez at Kreutz Market in Lockhart, Texas, uses a metal probe to tell if a brisket is ready and Aaron Franklin can tell by simply handling it. I’m worried that a lot of folks wait in long lines to taste the final product from these masters, post a photo on Instagram, and move on to the next place without genuinely appreciating the hours that went into a perfect slice of brisket or the snap of a link of sausage. I hope that people watch “Chef’s Table: BBQ” and begin to appreciate the labor and wisdom BBQ requires. Thankfully, I do think BBQ in the U.S. is starting to get the credit it’s due from the rest of the world, but I hope the U.S. can reciprocate that appreciation for BBQ in other countries and cultures.

Tootsie, Lennox, Rodney and Rosalia are prime examples of why I love BBQ and why I loved this series. It doesn’t require a classically-trained culinary pedigree, but an innate ability to wield fire and smoke to make a cut of meat as obtuse as a brisket or something as delicate as a piece of radicchio to transform it into something primal. Yes, their food looks incredible, and I can’t wait to visit each restaurant (one down, three to go), but it’s the people that make BBQ special.