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- Where:
- 2180 S. Delaware St., Denver (Overland)
- The Draw:
- Fantastic Texas-style barbecue with Mexican flair
- The Drawback:
- Mexican flavors could be more pronounced, especially given chef Manny Barella’s talents
- Noise Level:
- Medium
- What To Order:
- Brisket, burnt ends, ribs, sausage
The Denver barbecue riot of 1898 wasn’t the first time Colorado’s carnivorous history veered lawless (see: cannibal Alfred Packer), but it was hopefully the last involving so much bear and possum. The trouble started when the National Stock Growers convention promised a free six-ton feast of smoked elk, buffalo, and said bear and possum to whoever lined up. When the event ran out of food, chaos ensued, with 30,000 ravenous would-be barbecue eaters throwing bones and punches, stealing cleavers, and draining beer barrels to express their ire.
That scene is the inspiration for instantly popular Riot BBQ, a counter-service spot with some chaotic history of its own. Local barbecue lovers might know that Riot took over Michelin Bib Gourmand–recognized AJ’s Pit Bar-B-Q (tucked into the Overland neighborhood), which closed earlier this year because the owner failed to pay taxes.
When the Colorado Department of Revenue auctioned off the smokers, picnic tables, and pretty much everything else in the building, AJ’s longtime pit master, Patrick Klaiber, along with Top Chef contestant and former Bellota chef Manny Barella and hospitality veteran Caleb Benton, bought it all.
In June, they opened Riot BBQ, a smoke-bathed mashup of Texas barbecue and Mexican flavors. (To be clear, this is not Tex-Mex. It’s more like a bilingual backyard rager.) The menu is full of Southern smokehouse standards such as brisket, sausage, and pulled pork, plus house creations in the pork ribs al pastor and citrus-marinated, salsa-topped chicken loco. Sides also start with the classics but include a few twists: The gooey mac and cheese is straight Southern, but cornbread gets the esquites treatment with Cotija cheese, chunks of jalapeño, kernels of charred corn, and a gloss of charred-onion crema. There’s cooling, crunchy coleslaw, but—surprise!—the dressing is nutty, peppery salsa macha.
That cornbread has been getting a lot of love on social media, but listen, I didn’t drive more than 30 minutes from my home for cornbread. Only expertly smoked meats could lure me in from that distance.
It starts with the brisket, which is so tender that it falls apart if your fork so much as looks at it sideways. It’s seasoned with salt, pepper, Barella’s sazón blend, and a mustard binder, then smoked for at least 14 hours. Salty, tangy, and just so satisfyingly meaty, the brisket should be eaten on its own.
The ribs are great, too, but if you’re expecting the advertised al pastor flavors, you’ll be disappointed. The guajillos, anchos, pasillas, and pineapple in the marinade don’t show up very strongly on the palate. That isn’t a bad thing, though; these are still excellent, toothsome ribs. They just lean more Texan than Mexican in flavor.
Every meat I sampled at Riot was one of the best versions I’ve had, from the brown-sugar-sweetened pulled pork to the melty, peppery pastrami (which is wagyu, people!) to Klaiber’s Texas-style sausage that he makes using brisket trimmings and bits of jalapeño and oozy cheddar. The burnt ends were gloriously charred and wondrously fatty—and yes, I ate a lot of pure fat, because the crispy, caramelized crust was just that good.
Barella uses smoked meats in a couple of prepared dishes as well. I liked the brisket quesadilla and chicken taco with avocado crema just fine, but I maintain that meats this good should be enjoyed without the interference of tortillas, avocado crema, or even the lineup of house-made sauces.
As with the 1898 National Stock Growers event, there’s no guarantee that Riot BBQ won’t run out of food. My advice? Go early, and unless you’re with a huge group, ask for a quarter-pound of each meat you want to try, instead of the half-pound portions listed on the menu (only the pork ribs require a minimum half-pound order). This strategy maximizes variety, which should always be the goal at a barbecue joint.
The roadhouse-style restaurant is homey and comfortable inside—and anything but lawless. One employee slices the slow-smoked meats as fast as you can order while another gathers drinks, assembles tacos, and hands out sides, keeping the line moving at a steady pace.
Riot BBQ feels like the smokehouse we’ve been waiting for: a culmination of Denver’s melting pot status for American and Mexican transplants. You won’t find free possum or bear here, but Riot is already earning its spot in Colorado’s barbecue history.
