Not too long ago, if you asked where to find great Texas barbecue, Fort Worth wasn’t the first name folks tossed out. It wasn’t even the second. But that’s changing fast. In Southern Living’s latest roundup — “The 4 Hottest Barbecue Cities Worth Planning A Trip For This Year” — Fort Worth landed squarely alongside Houston, Charleston, and Raleigh/Durham as a city redefining what it means to serve serious smoke in the South. 

It’s not just that Fort Worth is finally getting out from under Dallas’s long culinary shadow — it’s that it’s doing so with a style all its own. The pitmasters here are both keepers of tradition and fearless innovators. And they’ve built something real. 

At Goldee’s Bar-B-Q, you’ll still find the foundation: salt-and-pepper brisket with the kind of bark that cracks like lacquer, ribs with just enough tug, and hand-cranked sausage that sings of oak and iron. That place — run by a young crew of barbecue obsessives — shocked the state when it took the top spot on Texas Monthly’s vaunted 2021 Top 50 list. Now, it’s not shocking at all. It’s expected. 

Meanwhile, just across town, Heim Barbecue hums with a different energy. Travis and Emma Heim helped kick off this new Fort Worth movement with bacon burnt ends and perfectly rendered fatty brisket served in a laid-back, family-style space. They’ve grown, expanded, and still managed to hang on to the essence of what made them stand out in the first place. 

Dayne’s Craft Barbecue is another standout — a backyard operation turned full-blown phenomenon, with pitmaster Dayne Weaver serving up smoked meats with a painter’s touch and a chef’s palate. Shoot, Dayne’s is even expanding to an international market. And it’s not just about brisket anymore, either. Fort Worth has found its stride in the places that push boundaries: Panther City BBQ, nestled in the heart of Fort Worth’s South Main district, delivers pork belly poppers and rotating specials that nod to both Mexican and Central Texas traditions. And Hurtado Barbecue, whose original Arlington location drew early acclaim, has become a Fort Worth fixture thanks to menu items like Big Red-braised barbacoa tostadas. This Texas-Mex fusion hits every note just right. 

But this isn’t just about the food. It’s about a shift. You feel it in the low hum of a Saturday crowd waiting outside a joint at 10 a.m., in the clink of Lone Star bottles echoing through the picnic tables, in the way folks here talk about “their spot” like it’s sacred ground. Fort Worth’s barbecue scene isn’t some trend that popped up overnight. It’s a slow burn — one that’s been building over the past decade, fed by hard work, neighborhood pride, and smoke thick with purpose. 

Southern Living got it right. Fort Worth belongs in the conversation. What was once a city that barbecue fans skipped on the way to Lockhart or Austin has become a destination of its own — where old-school brisket holds court next to taco-truck creativity, and the only thing hotter than the pits is the momentum behind them. 

Fort Worth doesn’t need to chase anyone else’s legacy. It’s too busy building its own.