There’s Meat In Them Hills

Whenever I venture immediately eastward from San Francisco toward the central portion of California, I am reminded of some cultural truths. Contrary to a belief commonly-held by many residents of the City by the Bay, the west coast is not some distant outpost of the United States, culturally removed from the heartland like some kind of misplaced European satellite. San Francisco might be a quirky enclave of stubborn iconoclasts, both committed to and paradoxically resistant to change, but much of this fades quickly after a few miles on the eastbound highway. Right there on the other side of the bridge are strings of Applebees and Sizzlers, houses on big lots with swimming pools, big box stores and SUVs and all the components of Everytown USA.

This is not necessarily lamentable. As a product of Central time zone suburbia myself, I feel a familiar tug at my heart when I travel through towns delineated entirely by freeway exits. And today, en route to Sacramento in the town of Hercules, I found another reason to love them. 

For reasons unknown, barbecue seems to flourish best in rural environments. The flashier and more sophisticated a barbecue outlet, the more suspect I become of the product. The typical authentic story of a real barbecue joint, whether in Texas or the Carolinas or elsewhere, goes like this: Someone, often already involved in the raising, butchering, and/or purveying of meat, comes to develop a particular skill at preparing said product, and decides to augment their sales by retailing the finished product to the public. Word spreads, sales and popularity increase, and the original business becomes ancillary to the thriving sale of barbecue. Multiple locations ensue, often in low-rent unremarkable locales, and a couple of generations pass, so that communities and families develop shared sets of fond memories of the establishment. I've seen this pattern in my home state of Texas countless times.

The Ball Tip sandwich, deserving of its fame

In Hercules, the place is called Kinder's Meats & Deli. Started as a deli in San Pablo, California, it's now in its fourth generation, with locations spread (albeit not too widely) around the area. The Hercules outlet is in a strip mall, and they continue to sell raw meat and branded grocery items along with their now-famous barbecue. I tried their acclaimed Ball Tip Sandwich, with tender meat and a sweet barbecue sauce on soft bun that resembled an upgraded Vietnamese banh mi. I didn't regret my choice at all, and although I'm still not sure what distinguishes Ball Tip from Tri-Tip, I can say that it makes for a tasty sammich. 

This was my first visit to Kinder's, but it's familiar to me all the same. These kinds of local restaurants are pleasant roadside alternatives to the national chains, and the kind of place I look for when I travel on American highways. Keep up the good work!