Payne's Bar-B-Q
If you’re looking for something off the beaten path but absolutely worth the trip, Payne’s Bar-B-Que should top your list. The simple cinder block building is just a few streets away from Cooper-Young yet feels worlds apart, and that’s part of the charm: They are no-frills barbecue because they can be. When Flora Payne’s husband, Horton, passed away in 1984, Flora and Horton’s mother, co-founder Emily Payne, took the reins. The name ‘Horton’ is still proudly displayed on the building’s bright-red awning. The star of the show at this family joint is Memphis’ best and most unique barbecue sandwich: chopped (rather than pulled) into a coarse mixture of moist meat and crisp, chewy brown pieces. The meat is turned over hickory coals in a recessed pit set into the wall. It’s topped with a crunchy, tangy neon-yellow mustard-based slaw that could not look more alarming, and which is always fun to watch people navigate. This sits atop a plain old hamburger bun that serves simply as a vessel to get the meat to your mouth. Their homemade barbecue sauce is the perfect accent to the meat without masking its smoky taste, and it comes in mild, which simmers on an old stove all day as it’s ladled out, and a hotter variety that gets squirted out of an old liquid soap bottle. This is also one of the only places in town that gets hot tamales right, with heavily seasoned meat, tender masa outside, and a splash of that piquant hot sauce. The bologna sandwich here is also top-notch: thick cut and capped off by their signature iridescent slaw and a squirt of mustard.
If you’re looking for something off the beaten path but absolutely worth the trip, Payne’s Bar-B-Que should top your list. The simple cinder block building is just a few streets away from Cooper-Young yet feels worlds apart, and that’s part of the charm: They are no-frills barbecue because they can be. When Flora Payne’s husband, Horton, passed away in 1984, Flora and Horton’s mother, co-founder Emily Payne, took the reins. The name ‘Horton’ is still proudly displayed on the building’s bright-red awning. The star of the show at this family joint is Memphis’ best and most unique barbecue sandwich: chopped (rather than pulled) into a coarse mixture of moist meat and crisp, chewy brown pieces. The meat is turned over hickory coals in a recessed pit set into the wall. It’s topped with a crunchy, tangy neon-yellow mustard-based slaw that could not look more alarming, and which is always fun to watch people navigate. This sits atop a plain old hamburger bun that serves simply as a vessel to get the meat to your mouth. Their homemade barbecue sauce is the perfect accent to the meat without masking its smoky taste, and it comes in mild, which simmers on an old stove all day as it’s ladled out, and a hotter variety that gets squirted out of an old liquid soap bottle. This is also one of the only places in town that gets hot tamales right, with heavily seasoned meat, tender masa outside, and a splash of that piquant hot sauce. The bologna sandwich here is also top-notch: thick cut and capped off by their signature iridescent slaw and a squirt of mustard.
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