a storyHow to order

At a Carolina barbecue counter the words are short and they mean particular things. Barbecue is the meat, not the event. A tray has no bread; a plate does. Chopped, coarse chopped and sliced are three different textures off the same shoulder. Outside brown is the crust and you have to ask for it. This is the vocabulary, west and east, with what it gets you.

"Barbecue" on its own means chopped pork here, and ordering "pulled pork" marks you as from somewhere else — which is fine, and will be understood, and may be remarked upon.

In the Piedmont the shoulder comes three ways. *Chopped is worked small on the block with cleavers. Coarse chopped is left in bigger pieces, which holds the smoke better and is what half the regulars order. Sliced* is what it sounds like, and is the oldest form; Lexington Barbecue will do all three.

In the east it is chopped, and the crisp skin is chopped through it. That is the texture; there is no other option and no one wants one.

The outside of a shoulder that has been over coals for ten hours goes dark and firm and tastes more of smoke and dip than anything else on the tray. In Lexington you ask for *outside brown, or brownies, or just brown*, and you get it chopped through the rest or on its own. Some pits charge the same; some charge more; a few will tell you they ran out at eleven.

The eastern equivalent is not a cut but a texture: ask for *more skin* and the block will oblige.

A *tray is barbecue and slaw in a paper boat, no bread. A plate adds hushpuppies or cornbread and usually a second side. A sandwich* is chopped pork on a soft white bun with slaw on the meat, not beside it — if you do not want slaw, say so when you order, because it goes on by default.

By the *pound* is how a family eats. A pound feeds three people who are not very hungry. Sauce comes in a jar if you ask.

*Hash. It is a thick meat gravy cooked from the hog, ladled over white rice, and in the Midlands it is not a side but half the reason to be there. Order hash and rice and you will be taken seriously. Many South Carolina pits run a buffet* on Friday and Saturday only, which is the other thing to know before driving out.

Do not ask for brisket in a whole-hog house; they will point at the pig on the sign. Do not ask which sauce is correct — you will get an answer, at length, and it will be the house's. Do not arrive at two in the afternoon on a Saturday expecting a whole-hog pit to still be open: several of them close when the hogs are gone, which is the point of cooking only as many as they cook.

And whatever you order, they have heard it. The counter is not a test.