Relish: Beaver's icehouse-style barbecue is 'dam' delicious

By Siegfried Bilstein and Dan Nelson     10/7/10 7:00pm

Beaver's is not a strip club: This cannot be emphasized enough. Beaver's is more like going to a friend's house for a barbecue, if that friend's dad happens to be a world-class chef. Holding true to the menu's claim that "Fat equals Flavor," Beaver's is an indulgent place to get your fill of icehouse-style dining with expertly crafted food. When we arrived at Beaver's, we were greeted by the combination of the smell of barbecue in the air and the sound of The Decemberists on the radio. The music playing continued to be excellent yet too mainstream for us KTRU fans, so a waitress led us and a few of our friends to a picnic table outside. The atmosphere was casual, and the crowd around us was full of people of all ages. Our waitress was friendly and kicked off the night by asking us if we wanted the special: fried shrimp, New York strip steak and 80/20 mashed potatoes, which are 80 percent mashed potatoes and 20 percent butter. It sounded tasty, but we're pretty bad at math, so we ordered some appetizers instead.

Because we are super high- rolling capitalists, we ordered two appetizers: the Bar-Bar and Nacho Mama's Oysters. The Bar-Bar consisted of the best nacho chips ever;

they were thick, crunchy and felt like they were made of full-blown tortillas. Rather than your everyday, Kroger-esque salsa, it came with a bowl full of tender, savory chopped brisket. The Nacho Mama's Oysters, in addition to being a super clever pun, were deep-fried oysters coated in habanero sauce and guacamole served on nachos. The habanero sauce had a small kick, but nothing so intense as to scare away your aver- age Rice pre-med. More importantly, the appetizers left us all wondering whether we'd have room for the en- trees. Thresher Arts & Entertainment Editor Joe Dwyer specifically said, "Dude, I don't think I can handle any more food. Also, Dan and Siggy are super cool."

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In an effort to prove to the goy that he doesn't keep kosher, Siegfried ordered the Bad-Ass Po-Boy, which was full of cornmeal-fried shrimp and tartar sauce. The sandwich was delicately seasoned, enhancing its flavor without obscuring the shrimp taste. It came with chips, as did every other dish. And while we think these chips were seasoned with garlic, salt and some kind of steak rub, we were too busy eating all of them instantly to really notice. Dan ordered the smoked pork sandwich, which was full of juicy pulled pork covered in a solid Carolina-style vinegar sauce. Dan hasn't eaten in the Carolinas, but driving through them for 30 minutes makes him expertly qualified to say that this was the best Carolina-style sandwich ever.

Our friends Joe and Pete both ordered the Pit-Boss Chickwich because they cannot think for themselves. However, in a night full of delicious food, the Chickwich was undeniably the best item at our table. Weighing in at roughly 20 pounds, it was a glorious symbol of American excess. Filled with pulled chicken slathered in hot sauce, topped with fried onion rings and a fried egg, Siegfried and Dan were overwhelmed with patriotism (or possibly heart disease) upon sampling it.

The only negative aspect of this otherwise perfect establishment is price. Entrees averaged around $15. However, for those above 21 and accustomed to spending exorbitant amounts of cash money at dinner for drinks, Beaver's has an excellent offering. The beer menu is divided into "Of The Republic" for Texas beers, "By The Republic" for other domestics and "For The Republic" for all the other foreign, yet delicious, crap. For those looking for vegetarian food, we hear they have excellent barbecued tofu and Siegfried confirms their grilled cheese and tomato soup doesn't need any meat. In conclusion, America is great, as is Beaver's. Now if only it were also a strip club ...

Siegfried Bilstein and Dan Nelson are Wiess College seniors.

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