Pitt Cue Co

Pitt Cue Co was the sensation of the South Bank last summer. Its Southern-style US barbecue food - served up from a mobile van beneath Hungerford Bridge - was sloppy, tasty, and there was lots of it. It even sold rye whiskey cocktails and Kernel ales to chase down the calories. Lots of South Bank strollers stumbled across Pitt Cue and told their friends; it quickly became a Twitter sensation for its pork, chicken, messy pork ribs and beef brisket.

Now, in common with the Meatwagon and Lucky Chip vans, Pitt Cue Co has knuckled down into proper, grown-up premises, in this case a corner site in Soho. It's a tiny place: ground-floor takeaway and standing-room-only bar, while the dining room is down narrow stairs into the basement. Small tables and chairs are huddled together; bookings are not taken for the 30 seats. It takes dedication to score a seat here, with queues already forming in the first week.

So what's the attraction? Slow-cooked and grilled meat, often paired with tangy, sour slaws, pickles and a dash of heat. The flavour combinations are hard to resist. Pulled pork, beef brisket, beef ribs that are dry-rubbed and smoked for hours, over charcoal or wood, in Pitt Cue's tiny kitchen (which contains two smokers and one grill). The texture is also key: St Louis ribs are slathered in sticky barbecue sauce, while the side dishes such as the slaws or pickles add crunch. If it all sounds a bit messy, that's because it is. But there is attention to detail too, such as the firm brioche rolls used for the takeaway pulled pork or beef brisket - taut and pert, rather than saggy or flat, they're the Jennifer Lopez of filled buns.

The eat-in meals are served in oblong enamel dishes suggestive of prison ration plates - in real life, not quite as prettily styled as our photographer's pulled pork, pictured above. But a death row last meal never tasted this good: baked beans made using black turtle beans in a hammy stock, braised sprout tops with the kiss of garlic, or a side order of shiitake mushrooms which had been pickled in cider vinegar, then given a panko crust and crisply deep-fried. Desserts might include a stout glass tumbler of ginger-poached rhubarb with peanut meringue and a rich, lemony ice cream.

On our second visit we shared a very small table with two large men who might have been celebrating their jailbreak. In fact they were chefs and - fortunately - gentlemen, earnestly discussing cooking tips, who were happy to shove over. But sharing at such close quarters is not for everyone, though a couple of drinks help make it feel less of a press.

Cocktails using American rye whiskeys are the things to have, just like drinking in some redneck bar in the South; the fruity, almost spicy flavours complement the dishes well. There's an uninteresting lager on tap, but give that a miss and have a bottle of Kernel ale instead. When you move from bar to dining area, a toy Confederate soldier carries your tab for you.

On our visits there was quite a wait for a table, and the meet-and-greet system appeared ill-planned, which does rub off some of the charm - fast food it ain't when you factor in the queue. But the service was unfailingly friendly and smiling, which made amends for the half-hour waits.