Pat's BBQ is not the type of place people are going to stumble across — unless they're dropping by Gustin Hydraulics, Draper International or maybe Hi-Grade Meat Products, which shares owner Pat Barber's fondness for putting plump, smiling pigs on his logo.

They're definitely not smiling after Pat's done with them, but I defy anyone else to visit this down-to-earth eatery and come away without a glow of satisfied contentment. Pat's puts on an excellent Southern-style spread, from the ribs to the red beans and rice, with a friendly and gritty ambience and, on most nights and some days, bluesy live music to eat by.

Pat's appears to be housed in a former industrial building of some kind, judging by the cinder blocks, the garage door that forms one wall of the lobby and the location. It's been spruced up, of course, with bright wall colors showing off bluesy art prints, but I think the blue-collar location gives the place a fresh, unconcerned authenticity — as does the excellent food.

We sat at one of the picnic tables lining the long, narrow main dining room (there's another, larger room in the back if you're willing to pay a little extra to see that night's band performance), on which sat baskets of shelled peanuts and plastic utensils packaged with napkins.

Nearby was a cooler of water surrounded by cups and a metal tub of ice. It doesn't get more casual than this, and that's a plus when you're having a meal that you can't resist passing around from person to person.

For starters, there was the chicken, unbelievably tender and juicy, and the pork ribs, which my husband had in a combination plate. They're just a bit sweet, with a thin, peppery coating that emphasizes the meat's flavors rather than masking them. I'm not a huge fan of ribs, but these were great.

Then there was my enormous plate, a half-pound each of pulled pork and beef brisket. The pork was wonderful, lean and moist, herbed and smoky and fork-tender. I think I'll have it in a sandwich next time.

The brisket, sliced into long, thin strips, was chewy and just plain beefy, subtly seasoned to bring out its dark flavors. Some months ago I incurred the righteous ire of real barbecue cooks when I wrote that I preferred Dutch oven brisket to the barbecued kind (they pointed out that preparing brisket in a Dutch oven turns it into a pot roast, while good barbecuing treats the meat as it is). Pat's brisket could make me change my mind — and coming from a Dutch-oven-loving native Utahn, that's saying something.