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In the Market, mind your Bebe's and 'cues

Down in the Italian Market, fighting words generally concern "gravy wars" and the finer points of tomato sauce. With Ninth Street newcomer Bebe's Barbecue in the fray, we now have another rivalry to discuss.

Down in the Italian Market, fighting words generally concern "gravy wars" and the finer points of tomato sauce.

With Ninth Street newcomer Bebe's Barbecue in the fray, we now have another rivalry to discuss.

Owner Mark Coates makes no bones about it, his 'cue is North Carolina Piedmont style. If you insist, you can get a side of eastern-style sauce, but be prepared for a lengthy discussion of the merits of Lexington sauce and the authenticity of cider vinegar versus white.

Or as his business and kitchen partner, Tamara Van Winkle, succinctly put it, "He can go on."

The point of contention between the two sauces is that eastern style is generally a blend of vinegar, red pepper or hot sauce, and salt. Lexington smooths things out with the addition of tomato, and Coates' role model is the famed Stamey's, still in operation in Greensboro, N.C.

But as Coates points out, whether your allegiance is to eastern style or the western Piedmont, it all starts out with great smoked, pulled pork.

Coates was born in North Carolina and has deep paternal roots there, so the sauce and the smoke run through his veins. Bebe is named after his grandmother, who taught him how to cook.

Coates' one concession was to get an electric wood smoker instead of an open barbecue pit. Yeah, I can imagine that conversation with the Philadelphia Department of Licenses and Inspections.

The one advantage is that the electric smoker produces a consistent product even after the requisite 14 to 15 hours of cooking.

That long, slow cooking, and the fact that he starts with a bone-in picnic shoulder, is what produces tender, sweet meat.

Bebe's Pulled Pork Sandwich ($6) is a sight to behold. Don't be offended that it is served on a plain old supermarket hamburger bun. That's as it should be, because the bread is supposed to absorb the sauce.

They do toast the inside so that everything stays somewhat together, but if you are going more than a few blocks, ask to have your meat and bread packed separately. You want some absorption, but not to the point of sog.

Fortunately, they send you on the way with extra sauce. It's very addictive. You may even want to pour some on your cereal in the morning.

The Brisket Sandwich ($8) is a wonderful balance of smoke and meat. When it comes out of the smoker, there is an amazing layer of what is called "bark" in the barbecue trade. It's a layer of outer fat and meat that is caramelized and infused with the flavor of the smoke and stands alone. No sauce here.

The sandwich is chopped and made to order, and they'll ask you how much of the fat you want chopped in with the meat. The answer is strictly between you and your cardiologist.

The Pork Ribs ($12 half rack, $24 full) are seasoned with Coates' dry rub. I thought the ratio of dry rub to meat was a little too much rub, but let's not start a kerfuffle.

There's also a Barbecued Chicken ($6 half, $12 whole) that also gets a dry rub and is sure to satisfy anyone who doesn't want to go the pork route.

Sides generally run $3.50 for a container, or you can order platters that come with two sides.

The coleslaw is made for the pulled pork because traditionally you'd dress the top of your sandwich with some slaw. This is western Piedmont style, so no mayo in the slaw - just vinegar and sugar. True to form, it is ultra-chopped.

I'd say the mac-and-cheese is adequate, but not as good as my grandmother's. Ah, but the scalloped potatoes had me back in my grandma Grog's kitchen. The cream and starch from the potatoes almost make a pudding. Perfect side for the brisket.

Collards are always a welcome addition to barbecue. I did, however, make a mistake and forgot to order the cornbread to go with the "pot likker," the tasty juice of the collards.

There's usually at least one dessert. I tried the banana pudding ($3), and it suffered a bit in travel. The lovely meringue on top went into obscurity.

Van Winkle plays around with biscuits ($1 each) on Sunday. At any other time, the neon sign in the window that says "Hot Biscuits" is merely a disappointment.

I enjoyed some peppery, cheddar drop biscuits baked in a cast-iron skillet and hope to try the rolled biscuits soon.

She also is tweaking and trying out some new recipes, such as the sliced cucumbers I tried one visit. For me, the vinegar tang, celery seed and what seemed to be a hint of mustard with the coolness of the cukes was a great pairing with the heat of the Lexington sauce.

It's still a new establishment, so kinks are still being worked out, like food being sold out by 5 p.m., and a little disorganization behind the counter should get better.

If you can't wait one second to dive into your 'cue, one improvement is a recently installed counter with the requisite squeeze bottle for extra sauce. Eat-in or take out, do take time to ask Coates about the history of North Carolina barbecue. There's quite a tale, and, maybe, a big bone from the picnic shoulder for your pooch if you do. *