In the runup to the newly opened Williamsburg BBQ joint Fette Sau, the best part was how well the name lent itself to a certain K-Fed song. (Fe-Fe-Fe-Fette Sau, Fette Sau!) I'd been chanting the refrain all week. But last night, when I found myself repeating a different refrain—as in "Why is this night different from all other nights?"—it was because I was ripping apart the rib cage of a deliciously smoked pig.

Fette Sau, German for Fat Sau, is directly opposite Spuyten Duyvil in Williamsburg and shares the same owners. Predictably, Fette Sau maintains that obsessive venue's my-way or the highway attitude. But whereas there it's all beer, here there's meat and bourbon. And if you don't like meat and bourbon, you won't like Fette Sau. And if you don't like Fette Sau, that's okay with Fette Sau. As has been noted before on Eater, if there's anything Fette Sau needs, it's fewer people loving Fette Sau. As is, they tend to run out of all the good stuff around nine pm. When we got there, the pork belly was gone, and we had to sprint to the counter to get the last scoop of the baked beans. But such is the lot of small popular restaurants, like the East Village's Una Pizza Napoletana, whose policy is "When shit runs out, it's out."

But danger! Soon one might expect Fette Sau to be overrun by Manhattan spewheads, becoming as it might the latest victim of the NY foodie hype machine. The place will get crowded as the weather warms. Already, bearded hipsters clad in gray t-shirts and tartan sweaters fill the benches. But our fervent hope and rational prediction is that the single-minded devotion to such a narrow swath of the edible world will dissuade the thick-necked I Love New York rejects and their harridan dates from a visit. What toothsome midtown creature wants to pay by the pound, and what man who assumes he'll be getting a handjob later on in the night, is going to take a girl to pick at pulled pork off of a tray?

Also, the picnic tables discourage intimate conversation and the farm equipment chic isn't particularly romantic. Fette Sau has no desserts, no fancy cocktails, barely any sides and little luxury. What it does have, thank G-d, is meat.