Gene Porter, Seattle area barbecue icon, dies at 71
By Bob Lyon
 Since 1994 a favorite place in Bellevue to take out-of-town visitors for barbecue has been Dixie’s, named for Gene Porter’s wife. At the urging of parishioners at the Ebenezer Baptist Church in Seattle, Gene Porter, wife Dixie, daughter L. J. and son Alton started Dixie’s Barbecue on Northup Way in Bellevue, with Gene tending the pits, Dixie handling the line and prepping the sides and L.J. taking orders and money. Finding a building large enough was no problem. Gene already had his truck and motor home repair shop. The City of Bellevue gave him every encouragement with few restrictions. Restrictions came later.
The flavors came from family recipes developed in their home state of Mississippi and proximity to New Orleans. Gene gave his ribs a 24 hour dry marinade, subduing the largest ones into edibility. Beef, chicken and pork shoulder received similar seasoning. Dixie’s sides of corn bread and lemon cake were worth paying extra for if you were set on red beans and rice, collard greens and salad already . The safest thing to do was order just one meat or sandwich and several sides or a combination plate and share it with two friends. Catfish Tuesday was worth planning for.
When I first met Gene for doing a story about him and his place, I took photos of his long converted pipe pits in back with an outside fire box. He soon converted to Traeger pellet-fed heat and smoke supply because of ease of use for such large amounts of meat. Converting used Traeger parts to his own outside fire boxes was relatively simple for a veteran auto mechanic. His “Meat the Man” hot sauce came about by accident. In the beginning he had both a good mild sauce and excellent hot sauce in my estimation. As the hot, hot variation came into being, it became such a drawing card with his personal attention to every customer that he stuck with it. The most hilarious happening came from a morning TV show when a dare-to-do anything rep from KIRO visited and tried the Man with a rib on live camera. There was an immediate shift back to the station for five minutes while she recovered with appropriate gasps when her part of the broadcast resumed. That’s why Gene was very careful with many future customers, just putting a dab on their plates or letting them have a toothpick dipped in it.
Gene put up both national and world maps for visitors to stick a pin in to identify their geographical origins. He’d gone through two US maps in the first five years, both of which had become too crowded with pins. Paul Kirk, the Kansas City Baron of BB, visited three times, splitting a combination plate with me. Jim Tabb from Tryon, NC, came twice, actually using and enjoying “The Man” on his food. Smokey Hale, McComb, MS, found that Gene and Dixie had come from towns within 40 miles but on either side of McComb. Derek McCullough from Christchurch, New Zealand, tried “The Man” reluctantly, according to a photo I took of him and Gene. Dixie’s was a regular stop for Cortez Kennedy of the Seattle Seahawks, with most of the pro team athletes stopping by at least once in their careers here.
Gene never advertised nor catered. Son Alton urged him to and finally went out on his own. Gene enjoyed relating to me some of Alton’s prepping too much food for what he considered sure fire opportunities for selling only to discover that some crowds were too small or didn’t care much about barbecue. Although Gene wasn’t interested in competition either in participating or imitating it with his food, he joined the Pacific Northwest Barbecue Association and renewed his membership as long as I was an officer of the organization. Plentiful portions and a reasonable price were his beliefs along with interesting flavors and attention to his customers. It took cancer to end his business career, but the restaurant and his legend will carry on.
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