Billy Ruiz is holding his hand over a 550-degree Fahrenheit fire.
It might be low-tech, but Ruiz is old school—and so is the cuisine he prepares: California’s Santa Maria barbecue.
You could guess Ruiz’s regard for tradition just by looking at him: long, handlebar mustache; wide-brimmed, open-crown California vaquero hat; sun-weathered visage. Cooking beef in a fashion that dates back hundreds of years, he sears his sirloins 15 to 20 minutes a side with his cast-iron grill, about 30 inches above the fire. Then he raises the grill a foot and steadily roasts the meat another 90 minutes to achieve an even medium-rare.
Sliced across the grain, the meat is tender and lean, juicy and smoky—just right. The fire has set a crunchy crust on the outside, and the oak smoke lends a deep buttery tang to the taste and the aroma.
A Style of Its Own
Ruiz’s cuisine may be the most historic barbecue style in the United States. You might not guess the tradition’s backstory, as a half-dozen other regional U.S. barbecue styles have bigger reputations than Santa Maria, which was little-known outside California until recently. But in fact, the better-known Carolina, Kansas City, and Texas types represent more recent cultural tides than Santa Maria’s.Most of the United States was still unvisited by European interests when Ruiz’s Hispanic ancestors traveled north from Arizona to colonize California as part of Juan Bautista de Anza’s expedition in 1775. He’s an eighth-generation Californian, and he takes his culinary heritage seriously.
“This path was carved long before I was born,” Ruiz says. “I’m telling the story of my ancestors.”
It’s a savory story indeed. You’d have to join Ruiz at an event he’s catering to sample his cuisine—he has cooked for patrons as famous as President Ronald Reagan and Elizabeth Taylor and at venues across the entire United States, but he usually caters Central California ranch events, such as gathers and buck-offs.
Far Western Tavern’s co-owner, Paul Righetti, was named Santa Ynez Valley “Vaquero of the Year” in 2018, demonstrating how the whole Santa Maria ethos is intricately linked to California ranch life. He operates a 10,000-acre ranch with a herd of 350 cattle founded by his grandfather in 1886. His wife’s father founded Far Western in 1958, thereby helping bring indoors a culinary experience that had previously been almost exclusive to weekend outdoor gatherings.
But it was at the Hitching Post 2 that I got my first taste of this barbecue tradition, marveling at the magic an oak smoke and Santa Maria rub created when applied to my standard restaurant steak order.
My ribeye tasted like smoked butter, rich and savory, and crusty and tender, all at once.
There isn’t a speck of actual butter on it, but here at the Hitching Post 2, the meat is treated with a secret marinating rub and cooked carefully about 20 inches above a flaming red oak fire on a massive cast-iron mesh grill.
The combination of those exact tactics yields a famously flavorful result, now known far and wide thanks to the silver screen. The Hitching Post starred in the indie cult classic “Sideways” 20 years ago, a happy circumstance that helped vault its unique local cuisine from West Coast specialty to national renown.
Secrets of the Trade
Though some details differ from chef to chef, several keys mark Santa Maria style. And like all regional cuisines, it has specific, sometimes secret, elements that can seem like religious doctrine.For one, the meat is either top sirloin or tri-tip (the triangular end of the sirloin), or perhaps 2-inch thick ribeye, which is known now as “cowboy” ribeye. All are cooked whole.
Second, only a dry rub is applied to the meat before cooking, composed of salt, pepper, garlic, and other spices, the exact identity of which it’s considered rude to ask. Santa Maria chefs agree with Texas barbecue practitioners that “sauce is for people who don’t know how to cook meat.”
And as for cooking, as in other barbecue styles, the exact wood used is a crucial facet that engenders much debate. In the eastern half of Texas, it’s pecan and post oak; farther north, it’s hickory; in West Texas and Arizona, mesquite is used. Advocates for each wood are zealous, to put it mildly.
“Hmmm. That’s usually white oak, doesn’t burn as hot,” Ruiz says, frowning. “Who knows, might even be mesquite.”
One thing all barbecue practitioners agree on, though, is that it requires a wood fire.
“Sure, it would be easier to cook over gas, especially if we’re serving hundreds of people,” says Righetti, who has helped feed as many as 3,000 diners at San Francisco’s famous Cow Palace. “But, no, we’re just not going to do that.”
Finally, dinner is served with garlic bread, a salad, and pinquito beans (a small, pink, dry bean of Mediterranean origin) stewed with tomatoes, garlic, and chile.
“You could serve the queen of England that meal, or a pauper down by the tracks, and both would rear up on their hind legs for a chance to eat this dinner,” Ruiz says, his Western drawl and colorful commentary illustrating his local status as an iconic cowboy chef.
But Santa Maria style also honors the traditional nature of barbecue meat, low-grade cuts that wouldn’t show up on porcelain dinnerware in Victorian mansions. Brisket, shoulder, tri-tip, ribs, spare ribs, even sirloin—these aren’t highfalutin meats. Ruiz says he remembers when tri-tip was considered just stew meat and sold for 29 cents a pound.
Thus, the cuisine that rests on these cuts is no white-linen affair, just as would have been the case for Spanish rancheros 250 years ago. In the old days, cowboy chefs would have built their fire in a pit in the ground and suspended the meat over it, but in most other respects, it would have been the same as today.
“That was our entertainment before TV, you know,” Ruiz says. “Get together out by the corrals, cook up a good dinner, talk, and relax in the cool evening air. That’s as good as it gets, folks.”
