Ever since I paid a visit to Lou Dawg’s Southern Sandwich, I haven’t been able to get the memory of their baked beans ($3/$5) out of my head. The rich, just-sweet-enough gravy; the beautiful, smooshingly tender legumes; the honking hunks of meaty, remarkably malleable pork. The empty Green Shift take-out container they came in is taunting me from its perch on the kitchen counter. Normally, I would have disposed of that container by now, but I can’t bring myself to toss it. It’s almost as though I’m hoping that if I wait long enough, and think enough tantalizing, smoky thoughts at it, the delicious, beany goodness it once contained will regenerate.

So far, all this has led to has been some disturbingly sinister looks from my wife.

Soon, I suppose, I’ll have to break down and just head on back over to Lou Dawg’s unassuming BBQ parlour, with its bare-bones, concrete-floored, biker-bar charm. Which isn’t such a bad idea. There’s more to recommend about the place than just the beans, a claim I wouldn’t have made six months ago, when I paid a visit shortly after it opened. Then, while not bad at all, the quality of the fare was spotty.

The BBQ sauce in the self-serve warming dispensers was cold. Crispy dry rub wings ($9) were a little too dry. And the fact that everything was served in disposable containers — even when you’re eating in the restaurant — just plain bugged me. (It still does, even if they have switched to a more environmentally friendly package design.)

This time around, however, they’ve stepped up their slow-cooking game. They’ve added ribs ($10 half-rack, $20 full) to the lineup, for one thing. Slathered in dark, thick and smoky BBQ sauce, the St. Louis–cut half-rack we receive is tremendous — loaded with fat-drenched meat that practically debones itself. They aren’t the best ribs going in T.O., but they come close.

Sides are universally great. Giant sweet potato fries ($3/$5) come shimmering with gorgeously salty oil. The Yukon Gold fries ($3/$5) spark fond memories of childhood visits to Wood Green Fish and Chips (may the old chipper rest in peace). And then there are those beans ($3/$5).

The filet of sole sandwich ($7) is disappointing, however, managing to be remarkable only in it’s ability to exhibit so much blandness despite the massive dollop of BBQ-sauce-laced tartar gloop. The house-smoked bacon that comes in the smoked turkey wrap ($9) would have made more of an impact had there been more than a single slice, and if it was fried until crispy.

But we stop singing the blues and start a gospel chorus when we encounter the mound of smoked beef that comes on the brisket sandwich ($9). Stuffed into a chewy-on-the-outside, soft-in-the-middle demi-pain, there ain’t nothing to get nitpicky about with this bad boy.

As good as the brisket is, the pulled pork sandwich ($7) is even better, featuring a hefty portion of melt-in-your-mouth, well-trimmed, slow-roasted shoulder meat and loads of sweet and tangy sauce. Adding a clump of fresh coleslaw ($1 extra), which features not only some sweet shredded carrots, but pine nuts as well, takes this from mouth-wateringly good  into straight-up awesome territory.

Throw in the fact that a pint of beer rings in at a mere $5, and it all adds up to Lou Dawg’s being a great little sandwich shop that packs a whole lot of authentic southern-smokehouse charm. And as fast-food concepts go, you don’t get much better than that.