This Tennessee BBQ Joint Turns Smoked Sausage Into The Main Event
Along Lamar Avenue in Memphis, the first thing you notice is the smoke curling from the pitroom, drifting across the street like an invitation. Step inside Payne’s Bar-B-Q and the scene is straightforward: a counter, a few tables, a menu that fits on a single board.
The dining room stays plain, but the plates don’t. Sausage comes off the pit with a snap, tucked into buns with tangy mustard slaw and sauce that clings just right. Locals know the rhythm, get in early, grab your tray, savor slowly.
The hours may be short, but the pull of the pit is constant. Payne’s proves again and again that great barbecue doesn’t need flash, only fire, family, and faithful regulars.
Sausage Links Kissed With Deep Smoke
The air inside Payne’s clings with hickory haze, and the links come out darkened, their skins shining with fat. There’s an earthy sweetness in that smoke.
These sausages aren’t gimmicks, they’re Memphis pit tradition turned into a centerpiece. Hours of slow cooking dig deep into the meat until flavor and fire are inseparable.
Locals bite in, nod, and keep going. The taste is so direct and unembellished that it stops you mid-thought, demanding your full attention.
Mustard Slaw In That Famous Neon Hue
A shock of yellow lands on your plate, brighter than you expect. Crisp cabbage crunches under a tangy mustard dressing that hums with vinegar.
This recipe has roots in Payne’s earliest days, when the family decided slaw should cut through the fattiness of smoked meats. It became a trademark.
Regulars warn first-timers not to skip it. The slaw isn’t a side here—it’s part of the whole balance that makes the sausage sing.
Sausage Sandwich Piled High On A Soft Bun
The bun squishes under the weight of meat, sauce dripping down its edges like the sandwich is struggling to contain itself. Every bite is chaos and reward.
In Memphis, sausage sandwiches are often overshadowed by pork shoulder, but Payne’s made this version impossible to ignore. It’s messy, unapologetic, and central.
I grinned through mine with sauce on my hands and slaw tumbling out. It wasn’t neat, but it was unforgettable, the kind of sandwich that makes you laugh at how good it is.
Add Slaw And Sauce For The House Balance
Sweet sauce drizzles into mustardy crunch, pulling smoky sausage into line. Each forkful feels like contrast turned harmony, sharp against rich, sweet against tang.
This combo has been Payne’s blueprint for decades. The family never complicated it, because the formula already worked.
Visitors who try it once tend to stick with it forever. There’s no urge to reinvent a sandwich when the parts already snap into perfect balance.
Chopped-Pork Classic If You Want A Backup
Chunks of shoulder come tender, still juicy under Payne’s tangy sauce. Pork remains the steady anchor of Memphis barbecue, and here it’s treated with respect.
The history of this city’s pits leans heavy on shoulders and ribs. Payne’s includes pork because tradition demands it, even if sausage runs the spotlight.
Seasoned diners suggest pairing pork with beans for a plate that feels like old Memphis, sturdy and filling.
Barbecue Bologna For Another Memphis Staple
Thick rounds of bologna puff on the pit, edges curling and catching sauce until glossy. The smoke turns something simple into a sly local treat.
This dish reflects Memphis’ ability to transform humble ingredients into soul food classics. Bologna became part of the barbecue canon decades ago.
I wasn’t expecting to love it, but one bite changed my mind. The char, the sauce, the smoky undertone, it turned into one of the most addictive plates of the meal.
Tiny Dining Room Big Pitroom Flavor
The dining room itself is modest: a handful of tables, walls without decoration, and the hum of lunchtime chatter. Nothing distracts from the food.
Behind the door, the pitroom roars with energy. That’s where smoke coils, links glisten, and pork soaks up fire.
Diners don’t come for ambiance. They come because every bite reminds them that the pitroom is the heartbeat of this place.
Hours Built For Lunch Only Tuesday To Saturday
Doors open mid-morning, close mid-afternoon, and never on Sundays or Mondays. If you don’t plan around it, you’ll miss out.
This rhythm hasn’t shifted since the early days. Short hours keep the pace manageable and the food consistent.
Locals say it adds to the ritual. You carve out time for Payne’s because the pit won’t wait for you.
Simple Menu That Keeps The Focus Tight
A handful of meats, a couple of sides, sandwiches or plates, that’s the list. There’s no distraction, no overstuffed menu.
That restraint works. Less choice means more care for every link and every scoop of slaw.
Locals recommend leaning into the limited spread. When a menu’s this small, you know each piece has been perfected.
Beans And Slaw Round Out The Tray
Pinto beans simmer in spice until soft, earthy, and rich. Slaw crunches bright alongside, pulling the plate together.
Sides here don’t feel like filler. They’re partners in the meal, designed to lift the meat instead of hiding beneath it.
I cleaned my tray down to the beans. They tasted simple but just right, the kind of side that doesn’t show off, yet makes the barbecue sing louder.
A Memphis Essential For Sausage Fans
Sausage doesn’t always headline Memphis barbecue, but here it does. Payne’s turned it into the dish that defines their name.
The pitroom makes the difference. Links aren’t filler, they’re treated like stars, smoked slow until the flavor holds its ground against anything in the city.
I came for curiosity and left convinced. For sausage lovers, this is the must-stop. In a city obsessed with barbecue, Payne’s proves sausage deserves the spotlight.