In 2005, I found myself living in Santa Maria along the Central Coast of California photographing the Michael Jackson molestation trial. I had been living on the other end of the county in Santa Barbara covering the occasional pre-trial hearings but when things went into full swing I bit the bullet and moved to Santa Maria for the duration of the trial.
After the final pre-trial hearing, I was having dinner with AFP photog Robyn Beck at a Mexican cantina to the north of the courthouse. We both loved the salsa and I commented that we needed to let our friends know about the restaurant and Robyn replied, “you should write a blog about it.” And so I did. Well, blogish. I created a website where journalists could post their culinary findings to share with other journalists as we knew we were going to be in the Maria for a long time and McDonald’s is pretty lame even once, imagine six months of it.
The daily schedule of the trial was pretty light: show up at the courthouse at seven-something in the morning, shoot Jackson’s arrival (approximately eight seconds of work), edit and transmit the images (approximately eight minutes of work), sit and wait in the parking lot, shoot Jackson’s departure at two-something in the afternoon (another eight seconds of work), edit and transmit the images (another eight minutes of work), and depart ourselves. We were usually out of the parking lot by 2:30pm but there wasn’t really much to do in the Maria other than try to stay out of the constant gale-force winds. And so we ate. We had a lot of free time and a lot of per diem food allowance. And so we ate a lot.
Santa Maria is famous dry rub tri-tip beef but it was a Tuesday night, which was all you can eat pizza night at Klondike’s, and I was on my way to get my pepperoni on. I overshot the entrance to the parking lot and ended up a couple of blocks south and had to make a U-turn. I pulled on to a side street to turn around and my headlights shone upon a giant sign: Santa Maria BBQ Land. I was intrigued. I went inside to pick up a menu. The smoky smell of the restaurant made me want a cow something serious at that moment but I had to wait a day.
From the moment we finished transmitting our images after Jackson’s arrival, the still photogs pen would be abuzz about what we were having for lunch that day. Eventually, people started getting pissed about the four hours of lunch talk so we created a rule: no mentioning food until 10:00am. And every day at 10:00am, Getty Images photog Carlo Allegri would pull out the stack of menus and the debates would begin – pizza, sandwiches, burgers, Thai, Mexican – and the stack of menus was thick. That particular day, I knew I was holding the trump card: the menu from BBQ Land.
(Carlo would later be relieved for two weeks by another Getty Images photog: Justin Sullivan. Yes, the Justin Sullivan of Hamblogger fame. It’s where we met.)
Five years later, I found myself driving south along the 101 and as I entered northern Santa Barbara County, I was unable to shake the thought of the Land of BBQ. I exited the highway and went straight to the restaurant. Not much had changed on the exterior; even the graffiti on the rooftop sign looked the same. I walked in the door and found no much had changed in the interior either except for the addition of a small filing cabinet for holding your BBQ Land frequent flyer card so you don’t take it home and lose it.
I saddled up to the counter and after a quick review of the unchanged menu, I ordered the Bacon Monster Triple ($9.45, includes fries and a soda). The BMT consists of three grilled one-third pound beef patties, bacon, lettuce, tomato, red onions, and pickles, but doesn’t include cheese or a defibrillator. I learned about the cheese surcharge the hard way. The person who took my order asked if I wanted cheese, to which I replied yes. Done and done. I reviewed the receipt once I was sitting down and saw three 45-cent charges, one for each slice of cheese. Ouch. At least I could drown my pain with the included self-serve soda.
I watched as the burgermeister threw three preformed patties on the Red Oak wood open-flame grill. The flames jumped and so did my heart. Possibly because it knew I was about to clog it with a pound of cow, a pile of bacon, and a stack of cheese, but mostly because of the sheer joy of watching beef cook over wood. While waiting for the flames to do their job, I noticed the delivery person walk in behind me. I turned and saw that it was the owner – the same guy from my five years before. I introduced myself as a Jackson trial survivor and we reminisced about the old days.
The Monster arrived and I went to work. The smoky oak scent was intoxicating as I took my first bite. The beef flavor was minimal and the applied seasoning was light allowing the taste of the char to take center stage. Shredded lettuce is always a disappointment but at least it was crisp. The red onion and dill pickle chips were also crisp and had good flavor. The American cheese was appropriately gooey and the bacon delivered a distinct savory taste not masked by the smokiness of the beef. I was monstrously happy.
The trial is long over and the satellite trucks and the thousands of journalists are all gone. Even Michael Jackson is gone. But BBQ Land, with its karaoke and Korean food, still remains. The winds keep blowing and the Red Oak fire pit keeps glowing. Do I miss the Maria? Nah, that’s just the Bacon Monster Triple talking.
RATING: 4
BBQ Land
1975-A South Broadway
Santa Maria, California 93454
(805) 346-8537, 346-6166
www.bbqlandsantamaria.com
Hours: Daily 11:00AM – 9:00PM
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Well if I can ever manage to not repeatedly overindulge in steaks at Jocko’s and the Far Western on my central coast forays, I’ll remember the burger at BBQ Land. That is a legit oak fire going there.
This is doubtful, however, and there’s certainly no way I could survive 3 1/3lb patties amidst that sweet steak bacchanal. And was that bun really up to the task?
Santa Maria/Central coast spots are the only places getting a free pass from me on the issue of otherwise loose, pernicious, dangerous use of terminology in describing what they’re doing as BBQ. ‘Twas always thus thereabouts, and it is our highest and truest contribution to the nation’s regional cuisines.
In fact I am due for a run- I’m down to a half sack of red oak, some of which will contribute to this evening’s dinner (I’m thinking burgers).
oh man, you had to bring up Jocko’s. I could totally go for one of their steaks right about now.