The long lines say it all at Pecos Pit: Barbecue fans call it home

After writing a recent story on where to find good barbecue, I was rightly raked over the coals by fans of Pecos Pit. They wondered how I could have missed the best place for succulent smoky meat in Seattle?

OK, so I've seen the light. It's the light from the alderwood embers that fuels the Southern-style pit, where tough meat turns tender after cooking for hours and hours.

Maybe the Pit flew under my radar because its customers don't want any more bodies clogging the long lunch line, which one day last week was a mostly male crowd made up of suits, blue collars and a big group of Seattle police officers. Chef Tom Douglas was spotted there, ordering his sandwich with half the meat. (You know, the diet plate.)

		Mike Urban / P-I
	Debra Wise serves an order of beef barbecue to one of her regulars: celebrated Seattle chef Tom Douglas. Wise said that last year one of Douglas' assistants called to order 100 of Pecos' holiday gift certificates. "I thought she was joking; I don't read the papers, I didn't know who Tom Douglas was," Wise said. Then she looked him up on the Internet and recognized his face. "I only knew him as one of my regulars who's been coming here since day one."

The menu is super tight, pulled pork, sliced or chopped beef, hot links, baked beans, chips. I love slaw with my 'cue, but no can do here. "We used to have it years ago," the bubbly person at the counter explained, the woman I later learned was co-owner Debra Wise.

I heard someone order their $6.25 sandwich "extra sloppy," but I requested sauce on the side so I could fully appreciate the meat. The spicy-hot tomato-based sauce on the side was enough for six sandwiches, a full cup of it.

The brisket was exceptional, moist, but not fatty, full-throttle beefy. The slices were rimmed in crimson, the holiest of smoke rings, barbecue purists call it, the sure sign that it has been cooked right.

Some people freak when they see it, thinking the meat's not thoroughly cooked, but it's just the opposite. Not surprisingly, co-owner and pit master Ron Wise is a native of Texas, center of the barbecue brisket universe.

		Mike Urban / P-I
	So tasty that there isn't much left of the Pecos Pit sandwich at the end of the meal.

Pulled pork is done well, too, chunks of Boston butt roast that stand up to the Pit's fiery sauce. (Hot means red hot here; even the medium isn't for wimps.) For carnivores interested in a double dose of meat, a hot link on the side will set you back just a buck and change. They're Oberto Louisiana-style hot links, sausages that snap.

Is Pecos Pit the best barbecue in Seattle? Could be. But there may be a few more pits I need to explore before declaring a winner.