New York seems to be on a mission to prove that it can conquer any cuisine even barbecue. But there’s been such a glut of lip-smackin’, handy-wipe laden, sauce-slappin’ eateries opening as of late, that it’s hard to find which stand out from the bunch. If you ask food writer Josh Ozerskey, though, Hill Country slaughters (ohhh, bad meat pun!) them all: “The perfect tribute to the greatest native American restaurant genre, executed most perfectly. If it didn’t exist I would have to have invented it, as Voltaire said of God.” At this cavernous, rough-hewn honky-tonk-alike, grab a tray, tell the nice folks behind the line what you want with choices like juicy, moist brisket, arm-sized pork ribs, southern-style green beans, and, of course, the requisite mac ‘n’cheese (careful of having eyes-bigger-than-your-stomach disease you can always go back for more, cowpoke), and for just a minute, you might think you’ve landed deep in the heart of Texas.