Hickory smoke is the only seasoning for popular Talladega barbecue joint
Story and Photos by Jennifer Kornegay
Around 11 a.m. on a sweltering day in late June, Curtis Hann moves between two massive smokers in a small shed behind The Shack BBQ in Talladega, checking Boston butts and slabs of ribs. Temps hit around 500-degrees in each of the pits, pushing the mercury in the space to Hades-like levels. But Curtis doesn’t mind; he’s been tending the smoke-spewing beasts off and on since he was 15 years old.
Patrons of The Shack may or may not be aware of Curtis’ sacrifice of sweat, but they benefit from it all the same, as they dig into this barbecue joint’s offerings. Sharon Frieze, who owns The Shack with her husband Rickey, brags on Curtis, her nephew, any chance she gets. She praises the rest of the team, too, which is made up of family, including her son Michael, two grandsons (Joshua Clough and Deacon Frieze) who’ve worked there in the past and younger grandkids (Gage Nabors and Lynly Frieze) who help out some, plus folks who feel like family, like longtime servers Tammy Norris and Jennifer Creamer.
“Our people make this place,” Frieze says.
Frieze’s parents, Haskell and Dot Hann, started The Shack in the early 1980s. While her dad ran his car-selling business, her mom started cooking a handful of Boston butts on a small Weber grill to sell on the side. “That grill didn’t even have legs,” Frieze says. “She propped it up between two chairs.”
With every bite of Dot’s hand-chopped pork consumed, word of its tender texture and savory flavor spread, and more people showed up — including an inspector with the health department, who informed the Hanns they’d need a kitchen, sinks for handwashing and other items to continue. “When the inspector asked my parents where they were putting trash, they took her to the trash barrel out back,” Frieze says. “When she went to look, a possum jumped out at her. My mom figured that was the end.”
It wasn’t. That kind health inspector gave them 30 days to procure the equipment required to run a food business. “My dad got an old train caboose, and that became our kitchen,” Frieze says. The crowds that kept coming led the Hanns to next add a building with tables and then expand the menu.
More than four decades later, Frieze holds onto her parents’ original barbecue philosophy. Only hickory wood fuels the pits. No dry rub — not even salt and pepper — seasons the meats. “It doesn’t need anything because we use good meat,” Frieze says. When the ‘cue comes off the heat, it’s immediately wrapped in foil to seal in the smoky goodness and continue tenderizing the meat underneath the exterior mahogany crust. Curtis still hand-chops the butts. There’s no sauce added either, except for the sweet red condiment drizzled on the pork sandwiches.
Those desiring sauce find squeeze bottles of it on the red-and-white-check-clothed tables so they can easily add it to the chopped and sliced pork plate, the chopped-pork topped salad, the popular Shack Stack (chopped pork smothered in melted shredded cheese and mounded on a pile of crispy fries) and the ribs, which sell out daily.
“People ask, ‘Why don’t you cook more ribs?’” Frieze says, “but we don’t want anything left over; we want everything we serve to be fresh off the pit.”
Cheeseburgers, chicken fingers and deep-fried hotdogs sell well, too. “But nine times out of ten, people want the barbecue plates, ribs and the Shack Stack,” Frieze says. “We always tell people, we do barbecue, and that’s what they want most.”
Feeding local business, community
Those people regularly pack the restaurant, and The Shack does a lot of catering, too, especially when races at Talladega Superspeedway bring drivers, their crews and fans to the area in droves. “We used to go up there and set up at the airport to feed the drivers,” Frieze says. “We fed the Earnhardts and all those guys, but Covid kinda changed that, and a lot of the drivers now eat so healthy. But we still do some and get lots of people after the races.”
The Shack doesn’t serve alcohol, or the numbers of diners coming over from races would likely be higher. Local businesses rely on The Shack, too. “We just did 200 pounds of meat for the Honda plant,” Frieze says.
Frieze also feeds her community, even those who can’t pay. “We’ll have homeless come in some, and they know they can get one meal here. I’m not in this for the money,” she says. Server Tammy pipes up. “She does so much for others that nobody ever even knows about,” she says.
While Frieze’s generosity may go mostly unheralded, The Shack’s barbecue has garnered plenty of positive press. But as Frieze points to the various accolades from The Birmingham News and other outlets hanging on the restaurant’s walls, she stresses how family matters as much as melt-in-your-mouth meat. “Servers like Tammy and Jennifer, Rickey helping and Michael and Curtis being here, that means so much,” she says. (She’s currently trying to convince her daughter to join the family business, too.)
And when Frieze thinks about the future, she hopes her kids will keep The Shack’s legacy alive. “I hope they carry this on; it’s important,” she says. “I can’t imagine this thing my parents built not being here one day.”
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The Shack BBQ
7744 Stemley Bridge Rd. Talladega, AL
256-268-2005
Hours:10 a.m-7 p.m. Sunday-Thursday
10 a.m.-8 p.m. Friday & Saturday
