Below is an ethnography assignment for my American Studies class on “American Character.” I chose to do my ethnography (a field study of a certain cultural hub) on Bludso’s BBQ, what will surely become a Compton landmark in time. I was going to post this earlier, but I wanted to wait until after I turned it in/had it graded.
(I got an A+)
Enjoy.
- Danny
Every day — except Mondays, the restaurant’s lone closed day — starts the same. Kevin Bludso wakes up at dawn and tosses soaked wood chips into an outdoor smoke chamber. As soon as the wood hits the slow burning furnace, steam begins to form; the process begins. Meats of all shapes, sizes, and forms are laid to rest in the smoker, slowly transforming into something altogether different. By 11AM — the restaurant’s opening hour — pillars of smoke taking on the characteristics of the wood, seasonings, and meat begin to waft in the air. The smoke billowing from Bludso’s BBQ has become a community searchlight; a gathering point for familiar locals and newcomers alike.
If it weren’t for the smoke, Bludso’s BBQ would be practically invisible. Nestled on Long Beach Blvd in Compton, the restaurant’s main attraction is the smoker out in the parking lot, not the building itself. The storefront is tiny, offering customers little room to stand, let alone sit. Six stools line the right side of the restaurant’s interior. Five of them are functional. The sixth is missing essential padding. By sight alone, the restaurant seems unworthy of the unanimous praise it has garnered in the Los Angeles community. By sight alone, it appears to be just another business that fades into the overarching narrative of grime that plagues the city of Compton.
But to understand the restaurant’s present, Bludso’s past must be explored. As a teen living in Compton all his life, Bludso was sent to Texas to work at his grandmother’s barbecue restaurant in the outskirts of the Dallas metropolitan area. He was sent every summer — when school was recessed — to make sure he wasn’t following delinquents or gangs, an unavoidable fixture in inner-city life. At his grandmother’s restaurant, he prepped meat for smoking and learned recipes along the way that would alter the course of his future. More importantly, the idea of southern hospitality carried on from his rebellious teen years, which has become Bledsoe’s foundation for success.
Watching families walk in and out of Bludso’s BBQ, there is a noticeable “come for the food, stay for the company” feel to the interaction between customer and purveyor. This may be tough to envision, since the storefront offers such limited seating, offering little means by which to actually enjoy the company. While Bludso’s may not technically qualify as a family restaurant simply due to its lack of capacity, there is a sense of family that permeates the establishment along with the ever-present smoke. Upon exiting the car and stepping onto the parking lot pavement, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to see Bludso standing nearby his smoker, tending to his meats. A smile and a greeting follow promptly, as he motions to the open door. At the counter is Cookie, who serves as entertainer for the regulars, and the welcoming gatekeeper for newcomers. Chatting with the staff is almost mandatory, considering how little space there is to do much else before the food is served. But each member of the staff makes it worth your while. A quick discussion about football (Bludso is, oddly enough, a Dallas Cowboys fan) ended with an earnest showing of appreciation for making the trek out to Compton.
An eight-hour time lapse would show regulars stopping by with boisterous greetings and handshakes, all tethered around the smoker, as though it were a campfire. Stories of the day are shared, but goodbyes are not made before heading into the shop for the daily special. A time lapse would also show tentative visitors just like me. Men and women who nervously approach the restaurant with a clear refrain, weary of the reputation that precedes the city. But the concept of “good food” is a universal and holds no prejudice. Kevin and Cookie greet those familiar and green with the same amount of care and hospitality. Cookie glances up at a Vietnamese-American couple, whispering to each other, clearly flustered by the variety of meats to choose from. Cookie smiles, and placates the nervous couple about to dive into their first authentic barbecue experience. “Did you find us on Yelp?” Cookie asks. The woman nods her head, smiling. It wouldn’t be the first time that Yelp brought new faces to the eatery.
Yelp.com has become the definitive online source for restaurant reviews from locals and adventure-seekers alike. The buzz developed through Yelp has been a considerable boost to Bludso’s BBQ, and they proudly display their “People Love Us On Yelp” sticker at the counter. With the assistance of Yelp and media reviews, the term “regulars” is no longer limited to local residents. Online social media has allowed small establishments like Bludso’s BBQ to expand their scope, bringing in not only local “regulars”, but people willing to drive 35 miles out of the way for a Friday after-work ritual. Bludso’s popularity is a testament to the influence of community and food, which have begun the process of chipping away at Compton’s stigmas that have drove many away. For a city that once had “no way out,” people are, if only for the taste of barbecue, making excuses to come in.
But preconceived notions die hard. When I told Bludso I was a San Gabriel native, he shot back a smirk. “We were actually planning on opening up a spot in Pasadena, since nobody wants to head down to Compton,” said Bludso. “It’d save ya’ll some gas too.”
Of course, the drive, and the mystique the location holds is part of the experience. For one, Southern California does not have a strong barbecue culture. It has always taken pride in being the first to start trends, and starting trends is not an idle activity. There is no time for barbecue, a cooking process that can take more than half a day on certain occasions. Barbecue is an all-day affair, and the easygoing spirits of the restaurant borrow from a southern state of mind. Bludso’s BBQ is exotic, both in flavor and setting, especially for the restaurant’s ever-growing “foodie” fan base greatly comprised of suburbanites. A taste of Texas in distant Compton is what the restaurant offers. The pilgrimage to Bludso’s BBQ serves as a cultural “buy one, get one free discount.” Bludso’s BBQ is a taste of a different state, occupying a different world; a world most only see in crime stories on late night news broadcasts.
But what does this one restaurant mean to Compton? What does Compton mean to Bludso’s BBQ? In its short time open, the restaurant has garnered a varied, multifaceted following. Do customers of Bludso’s BBQ contribute anything to the overall culture of the city? The diversity in Bludso’s following mirrors that of Compton’s own demographic changes. Hispanics and African-Americans still make up a majority of the city’s inhabitants, but there has been an increase in Filipinos and Vietnamese moving into the area, most likely coming from Torrance, where there is a strong Asian concentration. In the end, it is difficult to separate Bludso’s BBQ from the city it calls home. First impressions are often deciding factors, and for someone like me who has only seen Compton through television, film, and music, my experience at Bludso’s BBQ is the only legitimate reference I will have of the city. If someone were to ask me about Compton, I only have what I know about Kevin Bludso and his restaurant; about Cookie and her candid generosity; about Rock, one of Bludso’s dedicated staff, and his rescue efforts.
All five stools were being used by customers, and while there was a park nearby, I opted to stay in the parking lot and eat inside a friend’s car with radio accompaniment. At the end of my meal, the music stopped. The battery had died. Rock had noticed the repeating sounds of unsuccessful ignition, and offered to provide a jumpstart. “Should’ve got yourself a Toyota,” he said. “Those things last forever.”
And for other suburbanites like me, sentiments are surely similar. Their view of Compton exists only in the scope of Bludso’s BBQ. When what we see in the media is pitted against what we see in person, the victor is clear. In many ways, Bludso is in the business of happiness. What his restaurant provides satisfies our most basic needs physiologically and psychologically. Bludso’s BBQ offers sustenance, a sense of well-being, and promotes a sense of belonging. The mythology of Compton may be inescapable, but when isolated, Bludso’s BBQ has its own subculture, one based on food and camaraderie, open to anyone willing to give it a try.
Kevin Bludso and his staff have accomplished a great deal with their business, but their greatest achievement lies in creating a community of locals and willing travelers. Every customer becomes a new member of the family Bludso has created, and the smoke that billows daily from the restaurant’s smoker is the searchlight gathering cultures from all around. The world outside Bludso’s BBQ may still be divided, but there is a noticeable homogenization on the premises.
Is there anything that separates the men and women of Bludso’s BBQ from other Comptonites? If there are, the findings would be negligible. Through observation and conversation, it’s clear that these people represent what should be Compton’s lasting identity: kind and giving people. But a culture’s visibility depends largely on public perception. A history of violence and crime has erased Compton’s visibility, but with the help of an irresistible veil of smoke, Bludso’s BBQ is slowly restoring it with every new and returning customer. Just as Bludso turns tough, undesirable cuts of meat into a delicacy, Bludso’s BBQ is helping shift the paradigm of Compton’s mystique away from its troubled past into something brighter.
