Benjamin Behrends. © 2024 Craig Dahlberg
The smoke pits are the beating heart of Terry Black’s Barbecue Restaurant. The aroma, thick enough to chew, drifts up over the pits like a fog bank.
After dinner, my natural curiosity pulled me to the smoke pits. I stood in the shadows, watching the pit-master, half-concealed by the smoky clouds, systematically lift the heavy pit lids, stoke the orange coals, and meticulously arrange the various meats. Like a conductor, he knew each subtle maneuver to bring each cut to perfection.
Fearing I was interrupting a religious rite, I gained his attention with a guarded wave. When he gestured an invitation back to me, I cautiously tiptoed among the rows of black, belching barbecue furnaces.
He introduced himself as Benjamin Behrends.
His face was youthful for such a high calling. Lockhart is Holy Ground for Texas barbecue, and he was serving as its altar boy. What had brought him here? He chose his words as carefully as he managed the pits.
“For nearly twenty-five years, I lived in San Diego with my mother, far from my roots in Austin. I started working when I was 14. I’ve never stopped.” He paused to gather his thoughts.
“New Year’s Day, 2002, wrecked my world. That night, my brother, seven years and seven days older than me, was shot dead—murdered.”
That New Year’s night also nearly took the life of his mother, who began a downward spiral. In her despair, she grew unable to care for Ben.
“She didn’t handle it well. She couldn’t take care of me properly. There were suicide attempts, drug use,” Ben explained. “I decided I needed freedom. So, I left.”
Then a pause, and a regret. “I now understand my reason for leaving was very selfish. I cared more about myself than I did about her.”
His mother drifted homeless on the streets of Tijuana. After unknowingly drinking contaminated water, she contracted hepatitis C. Eventually, she lost a kidney.
Her fast decline called for radical intervention, but Ben had already declared his independence.
Eventually, Ben chose humility and compassion over self-interest, a choice that brought profound consequences.
“I moved my mother in with me. I became her in-home support provider.” Her doctor told Ben she had to be on total bedrest for five months. “I gave her medical injections. I changed her bandages.
“Her diet was horrid. She was addicted to the unhealthiest foods. So, I gradually changed her diet, removing all the unhealthy food she had grown dependent on.”
“How did you do that?”
“I found a cookbook with 30 gourmet recipes. That’s where I started. I prepared only the healthiest food for her. Gradually, I nursed her back to health. And you know, she’s become my biggest inspiration.” The pit-master paused, weighing his words.
“She went through hell. But can you believe it? She has not only survived, but she trained to become an Iron Worker and a Journeyman. She’s doing things 20-year-olds can’t do.
“I moved back to Texas, and I learned to work The Pit here at Terry Black’s Barbecue. I work 16-hour shifts, seeing my brisket from start to finish. I am only the fifth person—and the earliest—to achieve that. It’s like winning the Oscar for barbecue.
“I couldn’t be happier! But I don’t cook for the praise.
“No, my secret ingredient is love and passion. It’s for that simple smile after hours of sweat and blood, just to make sure ‘Y’all come back now!’” I love it. It’s a service to be proud of.”
Like the comforting aroma from a barbecue pit, the love of a willing heart remains. That kind of heart cares for family, encircles strangers, and reaches beyond our own tribe.
“Why do I cook?” Ben grinned. “That’s easy. I cook to feed and heal the soul. And I cook for my mom.”
