Not so long ago, the generic Coney Island hot dog was this town’s preferred summer snack. But these days in the big city, summer means barbecued ribs and smoked brisket, just as it does in the hills of North Carolina, say, or the backwoods of Tennessee. In June and July, the local food calendar is filled with pig cook-offs and rib festivals, and every week, it seems, a new joint opens for the growing rabble of big-city barbecue hounds to inspect. I spent last week shuttling between two of the prominent new barbecue houses in town, each of which attempts to profit from this unlikely phenomenon in its own way. One is located in a stark, modish space in the West Village, the other in a faux-honky-tonk barn on Park Avenue South. One is a nakedly commercial venture, replete with stacks of dry-rubbed ribs and greasy brisket and a pit boss named “Big Lou.” The other is a small, gourmet Asian-fusion operation, and not very traditional at all.
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