Cheap Eats - Champs’ barbecued brisket does Texas proud

“Watch those fingers!” I warn my friend Todd, whose hands are in my fork’s trajectory. Although everything we’ve ordered at Champs is lick-the-plate and suck-on-your-fingers delicious, the butter-tender brisket is the heavyweight champion of the evening. And you’d think the bones never had meat on them from the way I’ve polished off my rack of ribs, but I’m still attacking his dinner as if I haven’t eaten in weeks. I thought brisket this juicy and tender couldn’t be had outside of Texas.

DIXIE DIGS: When you push open the door of Champs, you practically expect the Rolling Stones’ “Honky Tonk Woman” to start on cue. The restaurant is down-home and deep South in all the reassuring ways. Everyone stops and stares as you enter and are seated, waitresses call you “sugar” or “honey” and there’s a TV on in each of the dining rooms. But best of all, and so true to Dixie-flying form, the cashier’s counter is populated with a staggering variety of candy bars to cap off that light meal you just had.

Meat me at Champs: I have no quarrel with Champs’ thick, tomatoey barbecue sauce. It is perfectly fine, or perhaps its unexceptional flavor is a testament to just how make-you-wanna-cuss good the hickory-smoked meats are. The chicken (one-quarter, $5.75), so succulent it probably needed no pulling from the bone, is just lightly dressed with sauce, not hidden under a goopy swamp of the stuff. I thought it would be hard to top the chicken, but the pulled pork dinner plate ($6.55) takes the superlatives a step further. The only sound at our table is a rabid chipmunk chomping emanating from my jaws as I devour the shreds of crusty-edged, moist and rosy pork.

Rack ‘em up: Beautifully rendered of fat and thoroughly mopped with sauce during smoking, the crunchy, sticky baby back ribs ($9.45) are reminiscent of candied bacon. All the sides we try are fabulous, but the creamy, proudly orange macaroni and cheese and nubby, nutty fried okra are our favorites.

Smoke out: Champs’ brisket ($8.95, large order) deserves its own country song. Tinged with charred, creamy fat that melts in your mouth, the slices of robustly beefy brisket are as juicy as a $40 steakhouse cut. Order it and you may well be ruined for all other brisket. You should probably spring for an extra regular order for the table, though, lest you wish to need medical attention for the puncture wounds you’ll receive defending your plate.