On Snowsfields, a Victorian street in the shadow of London Bridge, Texas Joe’s London Bridge sits in cheerful defiance of its postcode. A gleaming 1962 Cadillac Coupe DeVille is parked on the cobbles outside, and the building itself is clad in coal-black clapper-board, a deliberate nod to the Texan roadside joints that inspired it: Kreuz’s, Snow’s and Black’s.
Texas Joe’s opened on 4 July 2016, and the date was no accident. According to Bald Flavours, the restaurant specialises in Hill Country BBQ, a tradition shaped by the German and Czech immigrants who settled in central Texas and brought with them a European instinct for careful butchery and wood-smoke. That lineage runs through everything here, from the unfussy salt-and-pepper rub to the unapologetic absence of sauce on the table.
Inside Texas Joe’s: Americana at Full Volume
Step through the door and the street outside dissolves entirely. Vintage Willie Nelson 4th of July Picnic posters crowd the walls alongside proper Mexican sombreros and a painting of John Wayne large enough to unsettle a horse. A two-metre-long dive bar diorama occupies its own stretch of wall. The cumulative effect is less interior design, more benign obsession.
Texas Joe himself moves through the room in an embroidered, Nudie-style western get-up and Stetson. That Cadillac outside is his. He opened this place a decade ago and has held the line ever since, refusing to soften the offer for passing trends. The result has attracted genuine admirers: Margo Price and Charley Crockett are both regulars, which tells you the transatlantic BBQ credentials here are not manufactured.
Next door, The Flying W Saloon handles the liquid side of things. Miller Genuine Draft on tap, and margaritas served at a strength that would raise an eyebrow in Tijuana.
The Smoke, the Meat and the Texas Joe’s London Bridge Method
The food menu is deliberately short. Pork ribs arrive with a bark so dense and black it looks almost architectural. Mutton shoulder, which Bald Flavours notes has been part of Texan barbecue since around 1860, when a booming wool industry made sheep an obvious candidate for the pit, falls from the bone with an ease that borders on theatrical. Peppery beef brisket is the kind of result that only comes from hours of patient, low-and-slow cooking: juicy, deeply seasoned, with a smoke ring that runs wide and pink beneath the crust.
Tri-tip steak and beef short rib complete the main card. Chicken thighs are there for those who feel obliged to make an appearance at a barbecue but would really rather be somewhere else. Slaw and pickles arrive on the side without being asked. Sauce is not so much unavailable as quietly discouraged; the meat does not need it.
Sides deserve attention before the main event arrives, or they risk being left behind entirely. The Frito Pie is corn chips layered with beans and cheese, a fast and satisfying arrangement that has more in common with nachos than anything formally architectural. Bacon-wrapped jalapeño poppers deliver a proper jolt of heat and molten cream cheese. The marrow bone is large enough to have once belonged to something prehistoric.
The white bread slice, beloved of American BBQ joints from Lockhart to Luling, is available on request. In practice, most British diners have to be talked into it.
All of this lands at a reasonable price for the quality and setting. The Picky Glutton puts the average cost at approximately £30-35 per person, including soft drinks and service charge. On Snowsfields, with a Cadillac parked outside and a Hill Country smokehouse within, that is not a number to argue with.
Texas Joe’s is at 8-9 Snowsfields, London SE1 3SU, a short walk from London Bridge station.