East Texas Hot Links

The mantra of "I'll try anything once" isn't enough for me. You never know if the first try was the worst that the world can offer, so I'll try anything twice just to make sure. When I left for East Texas I was looking forward to ribs at Stanley's in Tyler, seeing Caddo Lake and trying East Texas Hot Links (ETL's). These ultra regional links can be found at a few joints in Dallas, but for the most part you need to be in the Piney Woods to really get your fill. The Lockhart of hot links is Pittsburg, Texas where Pittsburg brand hot links have been made for over a century. John Morthland provides a good history of the place in his 1997 article on ETL's, but I'll suffice to say that the place is an institution that has got to have a solid following to stay open this long. His description is also spot on. "They’re pale, stubby grease bombs about the size of a thumb."

Before a visit to the Mecca, we had a few other stops to make. As we were leaving Stanley's in Tyler, owner Nick Pencis asked if we'd heard of Rhea's in Tyler. 



They make their own recipe hot links, and in the East Texas tradition they are baked rather than smoked. These all beef links are stuffed into natural pork casings. The grease oozed out onto a styrofoam plate when I cut into them. I shook a large pool of the traditional hot sauce garnish onto the plate. Even a leisurely dip into the sauce didn't cover the strong taste of ground offal. At just a couple bucks for four links (the minimum order), you can't expect the finest cuts of beef, and you won't get them.



The casings aren't taut nor are they crisped. The texture is more gelatinous and the extremely fatty filling easily falls out of the casing. If you just have water to drink you can't hope to rinse the film that forms in the mouth. The thick fat from the links coats the tongue, gums and teeth. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

Up the road in tiny Gilmer sits the gently aged building that houses Doc's Hot Links. After the city hall, this is the oldest building in town. The interior has only a large U-shaped bar clad in formica surrounded by long wooden benches. A simple menu hangs on the side of a drink cooler that lists the cost of links all the way up to twelve dozen ($77.95).


Photo by Nicholas McWhirter



I had quickly learned that a heaping helping of hot sauce was needed to mask the strong gaminess and livery flavors. I've heard all the legends about barbecue sauce being used to cover up the taste of poor quality meats in the early part of last century, but this is not legend. For my taste, the sauce is the only thing that makes these links palatable. Saltines after each bite are just another way to cover the flavor.

At this point I was disappointed in myself that I couldn't find a way to appreciate this bit of Texas tradition. I'd tried two versions and neither were very pleasing. Maybe a trip Pittsburg would make me see the light.



Instead of seeing the light, all I could see was dog shit. This is not just an attempt at an easy joke. Look at the photo below and tell me you see something more appetizing than steaming feces.

Even after a hefty dose of hot sauce and a saltine chaser, I couldn't get more than a couple of these down. There were whole families in the dining room with a dozen links each on their plates which barely lasted five minutes, but I just wasn't getting it. I guess it's something you have to grow up eating to appreciate. I like fat and can appreciate some odd bits, but these links were on another level. It was also surprising how similar all of the versions I tried tasted. The masochist in me would try another version of these a couple of days later at a joint that smoked them instead of baking them, but the smoke was barely perceptible when competing with the pungency of the ETL.

I gave it all I could and tried three places in East Texas all making their own links. I went in with an open mind, but I left knowing I never needed to eat these links again. I know I'll catch hell from some East Texas diehards, but there are just too many other great sausages around this state to go back for more ETL's.

- BBQ Snob