It was April 20, but the cloud of smoke that hung over Pioneer Park wasn’t coming from some hippie’s reefer bong. It emanated from the smoldering embers of a dozen pitmasters locked in a technically bloody but actually quite friendly battle to prove definitively who really knew how to handle the meat.
The Kiwanis Club of Santa Maria rallied 20 regional craft beer brewers, three wineries, seven amateur backyard teams, and four professional food vendors to highlight the pure and simple style of barbecuing that made the Santa Maria region famous: quality cuts dry-seasoned, slow roasted over red hot oak coals, and served with a little salsa. There’s not much there for a food writer to wax poetic about—no marmalade reductions or hints of saffron—just juicy, smoked meat at its unrepentant best.
I didn’t really know what to expect from the event. In fact, I didn’t really expect anything at all. I stumbled accidentally into this barbecue nirvana like Mr. Magoo from those old cartoons. The day after I’d been offered the chance to write this column and the very day before the event took place, I was thinking I’d find some new restaurant to cover, when suddenly my boss at my regular construction job offered me a pair of tickets out of the blue. And not just any tickets. He was one of the sponsors, so those bad boys were all-access, baby!
My wife and I dropped all of our other stupid plans immediately. The next day, we plopped those hot tickets on a table, and a nice lady handed us some lanyards, wrist bands, and tiny beer mugs that gave us unlimited dominion over all the roasted meat and bubbling beer samples we could handle.
The festival was divided into two parts: a strolling loop with tents for each of the amateur groups to hand out small samples to anyone wearing one of those magical lanyards and a wide-open area with a stage on one end, picnic tables and games in the middle, and professional vendors lining the perimeter selling full plates of food for cash. Beer and wine tents were interspersed throughout both areas, which was nice … obviously.
The general public would vote to decide the best amateur pitmaster, while a panel of judges would ultimately determine which professional would take home the first ever Gerald “Ike” Simas Best Overall Award, in honor of the late, great Santa Maria-style barbecue pioneer.
By the time my wife and I had completed one loop through the amateur area, I’d sampled six varieties of tri-tip and four beers (small, little cute ones–don’t judge me) including an imperial double bock collaboration between Stone and Alesmith, two of the biggest names in craft brewing working together like the Avengers of suds. It was poured out of one of those fancy beer bottles you see in the stores for like $30, and you think, “How good could a beer possibly be to cost that much?” But then you try it at a festival and suddenly it all makes sense.
Then my wife said the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard come out of her lips: “You want to go up that hill to where they’re cooking ribs?”
Oh, did I. Atop the hill, we found a nice oak-shaded mini amphitheater with bench seats, smoked ribs, more tri-tip, more beer, and a DJ spinning funk jams. This gave us our first chance to really look around and people watch. Everyone looked happy. They were excited for the food, for the music, for being outside on a cool, pleasant day. There’s something primal and joy-inducing about watching meat cook over an open flame, smelling the smoke and flesh. It’s our most ancient celebration. When the hunt’s over and the meat’s cooking, you feel in the back of your animal brain that everything’s going to be alright, for now at least.
After that, we walked to the other area, where our lanyards were powerless, and bought a refreshing shave ice before doing another loop through the sample section, talking to some of the pitmasters, and dropping our votes for the people’s choice award before hitting the ol’ dusty trail.
It was such a fantastic, indulgent event that I was hesitant to look up how much my all-access tickets would have cost me had I not lucked into them. I was sure that this kind of affair was reserved for business owners, oil tycoons, and trust-fund degenerates. But it was only $35 in advance and $50 at the door for an entire afternoon of great food, unlimited beer/wine, and live music!
According to the Kiwanis’ lead organizer Jaime Flores, all the profits will help fund programs for local youth, seniors, and veterans, so it’s money extra well spent.
“We’re really satisfied with the results,” Flores said. “The event was bigger than last year and just keeps growing. If you’re thinking about coming next year, my advice is get your tickets early.”
Contributing writer Nick Powell is always on the prowl for new food ideas. Send hot tips through the editor at clanham@santamariasun.com.
Powell’s Picks
• If you’ve suddenly got an appetite for great community beer festivals but can’t travel back in time to attend the one described in the feature, just wait a few days and go to the eighth annual Buellton Brew Fest at River View Park on May 4 from 11:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. There will be more than 50 breweries and wineries offering samples, live music, fun games, and several food trucks. Tickets are $45 for general admission and $55 for VIP early access to special brews not offered at the general event. Visit buelltonbrewfest.com for more information.
• Not into beer? That’s kind of weird, but no one’s judging. Maybe treat your mom to Fizz and Fritattas at Presqu’ile Winery on Mother’s Day weekend from May 10 to 12. Enjoy chef Ixel Lopez’s house-made frittatas and a sparkling wine flight amid the winery’s scenic valley and ocean views from the hills outside of Santa Maria (pictured above). Call (805) 937-8110 or visit presquilewine.com for details.
Contributing writer Nick Powell is totally judging you for not being into beer. Send food and drink tips, picks, and nibbles through the editor at clanham@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in May 2-9, 2019.
