Big B’s Texas BBQ in Henderson does smoked brisket right

One of the latest entrants is Henderson’s Big B’s Texas BBQ, which certainly has a way with brisket and a whole lot of other things.

Brisket is difficult to smoke. The cut isn’t the same thickness from one end to the other, the grain runs in different directions and thick, well-cut briskets — the best for smoking — aren’t easy to come by. For these reasons, I see brisket as the acid test of a barbecue restaurant, especially one that claims roots in Texas, where the cut is beloved.

Big B’s doesn’t fool around with its brisket, which we had as part of a one-meat plate ($9.99). No chopping here; this meat was served in thick slices, the fat running through them like butter. And it was not only extremely tasty, with big, beefy flavor and enough smoke to show they’re serious, but was incredibly tender, especially considering the thickness of the slices.

And while on the subject of barbecue challenges, I’ll mention chicken, which we had as part of a two-meat plate ($14.99). The difficulty of chicken isn’t as heralded as that of brisket, but it’s awfully easy to dry out in a smoker and there’s a lot of powder-dry poultry out there. Not at Big B’s, though. While we wouldn’t go so far as to say the white meat of the half-chicken was moist, it was a heck of a lot closer to that state than we usually encounter. And the half-slab of baby-back ribs that was a $5 upcharge was worth it, tiny bones enrobed in a thick blanket of meltingly tender pork, smoked with just enough rub to create a thinnish but very flavorful “bark.”

Big B’s sauces were laudable as well. Not being a true ’cuehead, I rarely wax poetic about the merits of a sauce, and so it was with the tomato-based version on the table. It was a different case, though, with the mustard-based sauce, which was well-balanced but leaned just a little bit to the vinegar side, for a nice tang.

The meats were served in traditional style, on a sheet of waxed paper atop a tray. There was a bit of grease on the paper after we’d finished, but barbecue is inherently greasy. A lot of barbecue spots serve their meats atop bread slices to soak it up, but Big B’s serves its two slices (white or wheat) on the side.

As for the side dishes: Two came with each combination plate, and the baked beans were wow, wow, wow. They’d been cooked long enough that the sauce had caramelized, intensifying a depth of flavor also augmented by the shards of barbecued meat tucked in. Truly a triumph.

The coleslaw was more prosaic though very appealing, just cabbage, carrots and onion in a light mayonnaise-based mixture. Chunks of fried okra were average, though slightly improved by the accompaniment of a fairly tangy ranch.

And the macaroni and cheese. This one, with nicely al dente elbow macaroni, wouldn’t be a crowd-pleaser because it lacked the super-cheesy gloppy sauce that seems to be so popular now. Instead the sauce was on the thin side (that’s a good thing), with a mix of cheeses for nuance and ground black pepper for just a little zip. I liked it, but I’m guessing a lot of people won’t.

The food wasn’t the only thing we liked about Big B’s. It’s in a suburban strip shopping center, but the one-size-fits-all look has been taken away with the care given to adding a little bit of Texas flavor, such as rustic tables, Texan memorabilia and accents of stone and wood. And while it’s a counter-service spot, our food was brought to our table, and employees frequently circulated to check if anything was needed. Everyone, from the woman who initially took our order to the last people who checked on us, was unfailingly pleasant.

One more thing I like: Big B’s has eliminated the angst that stems from my inability to perfect my brisket. From now on, I’ll just go with theirs.

Las Vegas Review-Journal restaurant reviews are done anonymously at Review-Journal’s expense. Email Heidi Knapp Rinella at hrinella@reviewjournal.com. Find more of her stories at www.reviewjournal.com and follow @HKRinella on Twitter.