T he brick building that houses Durk ’ s — and the old home of the Satin Doll — is a simple space . Gone is the stripper pole , goodbye to the flashing lights . It ’ s now an unadorned enclave that smells like smoke , whiskey and the crackling of pork skin , which , when mixed together , forms a carnivore ’ s aphrodisiac . Tables are like islands , not unlike the one massive painting on the wall by local artist Mark Freedman that features a lone baby blue skiff drifting through the Texas bayou .
But if you can ’ t make it indoors , no matter . Nothing is lost as food leaves the premises , other than an eclectic soundtrack of Southern struggle that jumps from Janis Martin to Dolly Parton with some Ty Segall thrown in for amplified electricity . Surely you can dig up a Spotify playlist that will coat your dining room in the requisite haze of blues , country and hard rock needed to commune with America ’ s gastronomic growl .
Somehow in the move from Thayer Street , Durk ’ s has streamlined the space ( no more cafeteria line ) but created more soul in the menu . Drinks are as aggressive as ever , laced with smoked salt and Angostura , or you can wash down the Alabama white with an IPA . The real test of any barbecue joint , however , is in the smoker and in the ability to turn those intensely charred meats into a range of dishes that hit every note between sweet and scorched .
There are baby biscuit sandwiches ($ 8 ), served warmed with pimento cheese and shaved tasso ham , burnt at the edges . If you ’ ve tried north restaurant ’ s Virginia version — slightly sweet and almost dainty — then this is the Texas rendition : full of
celebrated salt , fat and attitude . There ’ s also a pile of short rib pierogis with smoked sauerkraut that transform a Polish plate into Southern street food . Of course , sandwiches are the mainstay here , a plus as portable food gains status during restricted dining . Brisket is served in southern-style jardiniere strips with charred onions and jalapenos ($ 15 ) while pork hangs out on a crispy bun loaded with coleslaw ($ 12 ). But shockingly , one of the best mouthfuls isn ’ t meat at all . It ’ s a fried fish sandwich covered in charred poblano relish and Alabama white sauce ($ 14 ). Throw on some house pickles at your own discretion and you might be able to envision a pescatarian Texas .
In truth , Durk ’ s has a deep love for vegetables that hovers behind its carnivore display . They pair roasted Brussels sprouts with mustard vinaigrette ( and okay , bacon ), cauliflower with smoked peanuts and Indian spices , and glazed sweet potatoes topped with leeks . Who knew there was room for any veggie other than corn at a backyard barbecue ? It may sell itself as a whiskey hole and there ’ s plenty of that to go around . But despite its gritty demeanor , Durk ’ s is gentle under the surface and capable of far more than just burnt ends and liquor . �
DURK ’ S BAR-B-Q 33 Aborn St ., Providence , 563-8622 , durksbbq . com .
MUST GET Pierogis , fried fish sandwich , drinks .
CAPACITY Based on social distancing requirements .
74 RHODE ISLAND MONTHLY l FEBRUARY 2021