This North Carolina BBQ Plate Wins Hearts With Pulled Pork

In eastern North Carolina, barbecue speaks through smoke, vinegar, and wood ash. At Skylight Inn in Ayden, Pete Jones began cooking whole hogs over open pits in 1947, and the tradition still runs strong.

The woodpile stacked high, the chopping block worn deep, the slaw crisp beside the pork, the sauce bottle waiting, every detail feels rooted in care.

I’ve eaten here during the clatter of lunch rush and the calm of evening, watching butcher paper carry more than food: a story of pit, plate, and time.

Capitol-Dome Roof Over Pete Jones’ Skylight Inn

The copper dome glints in the Ayden sun, looking almost too grand for a barbecue joint. It’s quirky, memorable, and a little theatrical.

Pete Jones built it as a playful nod to barbecue being as important here as politics in Raleigh. Locals call it a landmark as much as a restaurant.

Driving up, I couldn’t help but grin. That dome told me instantly: this isn’t just food, it’s pride, tradition, and a touch of humor all rolled into one.

Brick Pits Smoking Whole Hogs At Sunrise

A haze of blue smoke drifts low across the parking lot, curling out of brick pits already fired before dawn.

This pit style goes back generations in eastern North Carolina. At Skylight Inn, whole hogs are cooked for hours, each side carefully tended until meat, fat, and skin merge.

Tip: morning visits offer the best show. If you arrive early, you’ll catch pitmasters stoking fires, turning hogs, and shaping the day’s flavor before trays ever leave the window.

Classic Tray Pork Slaw And Cornbread

The tray itself is simple: a mound of chopped pork, a square of cornbread, and a heap of pale slaw. No garnish, no frills, just balance.

This trio has defined eastern NC barbecue for decades. Each part carries a purpose, slaw cuts the fat, cornbread anchors the plate, pork sings at center stage.

Don’t be tempted to add extras. The set is deliberate, and that restraint is what makes the flavors hold together so tightly.

Vinegar Pepper Sauce Bottle Beside The Tray

A slim glass bottle waits quietly, its liquid shimmering gold-red with flecks of chili. It looks harmless until you shake it.

Eastern North Carolina barbecue sauce is vinegar-based, sharp, and unapologetic. At Skylight Inn, it’s offered sparingly, a splash to brighten pork, not mask it.

Best habit: start light. The sauce is meant to tune flavors like a string instrument. Too much, and the pork’s song is drowned; just enough, and it sharpens perfectly.

Close-Up Of Chopped Pork With Crunchy Skin Bits

Shards of golden skin catch the light against soft, pinkish meat. The contrast of textures is immediate before you even take a bite.

Skylight’s chopping method ensures skin, fat, and meat are always mixed together. It’s the blend that creates their signature, not any one piece alone.

I bit into a forkful and actually stopped mid-sentence. The crunch of skin against tender meat was so satisfying, it reminded me why this place stays legendary.

Pale Yellow Slaw Piled High

A soft mound of slaw leans on the pork, pale yellow with specks of pepper, almost glowing against the butcher paper.

Eastern NC slaw is simple, cabbage, mayo, a touch of mustard, designed not to dominate but to refresh. At Skylight, it’s an equal partner on the tray.

Fork some slaw with each bite of pork. That tangy lift is intentional, a palate reset that keeps you reaching for the next mouthful.

Two-Ingredient Cornbread Slice On Butcher Paper

A neat square of cornbread rests at the tray’s edge, golden at the corners, crumbly yet firm enough to hold.

Made with only cornmeal and buttermilk, Skylight’s cornbread skips sugar and shortcuts. It’s crafted to sop juices, not to act as dessert.

Visitors often underestimate it. Take a bite between pork and slaw, and you’ll realize it’s punctuation, a pause that makes the whole plate flow smoother.

Woodpile Stacked For The Pit Crew

Behind the building, logs of oak and hickory tower in tidy rows, their scent already promising the flavor to come.

This fuel is the backbone of Skylight’s whole-hog barbecue. Pitmasters burn splits down to glowing coals, keeping steady heat all through the day.

I walked past once and inhaled the woody sweetness. It struck me then that this pile wasn’t just firewood, it was the quiet engine behind every unforgettable tray.

Order Window And Menu Board At Lunch Rush

Lines snake past the door at noon, the air heavy with wood smoke and chatter. Everyone stares up at the chalk-lettered board.

The order window is Skylight’s heartbeat: trays, sandwiches, sides called out fast and stacked onto butcher paper. There’s no time for hesitation.

Know your order before you step up. The rhythm is quick, and part of the fun is flowing with it instead of freezing when the pitmaster looks at you.

Historic Photos Of Pete Jones On The Wall

Inside, black-and-white photos show Pete Jones in younger days — standing by pits, knives in hand, pride etched across his face.

These images mark Skylight’s roots. Since 1947, Pete Jones’ vision of whole-hog barbecue has defined Ayden and helped set a state standard.

Visitors often pause at the wall before sitting down. It’s worth it. Those pictures connect each tray of pork to a much longer story than the line outside suggests.

Ayden Town Sign On The Drive In

Arriving in Ayden, the town sign is a welcoming sight for BBQ enthusiasts. It marks the final stretch of the journey to Skylight Inn, promising a memorable culinary experience.

Nestled amidst lush greenery, the sign is an invitation to explore the town’s rich history and culture. For many, it’s the starting point of a flavorful adventure that culminates in a satisfying BBQ meal.

The sign is a symbol of Ayden’s proud tradition, drawing visitors from near and far to experience its renowned barbecue offerings.