The scene: In recent years Charlotte has been a fast growing and gentrifying city, where Bill Spoon's restaurant once stood on the outskirts. Today it is run by Bill's grandson, Steve Spoon, Jr., and the former two-lane country road has been nearly swallowed up by the long series of malls and fast food spots lining busy South Boulevard. The squat brick building with a simple wood-covered white front with red trim has been here for more than half a century, now nestled next to a cellphone store in a neighborhood awash in Latin American eateries of every description. A small pink neon pig in one of the windows and the sole sign on the otherwise plain exterior set the scene: "Bill Spoon's Barbecue We've Cooked the Whole Pig Since 1963." Defying the winds of change, it is one of the Charlotte area's few purveyors of Eastern Carolina's longstanding regional specialty, whole-hog barbecue.

The interior is as simple as the outside, with a wood-paneled dining room and lots of draped windows for a pronounced Southern cottage feel and warm, homey atmosphere. The well-used wooden tables are covered with white-and-yellow checked plastic tablecloths for easy cleanup, and it is all very casual. There's a rack of paired forks and spoons each wrapped in a paper napkin by the door, and after asking how many are in your party, the waitress simply grabs the right number of these and menus, seats you, asks what you want to drink – more often than not sweet tea, served in tall plastic cups along with individual packets of lemon juice - and heads off to get it. That's when you notice the words across the back of her T-shirt, which reiterates the main point of visiting: "We cook the whole pig." It's a message that's hard to miss here.

Reason to visit: Barbecue sandwich, hushpuppies, Brunswick stew, banana pudding

The food: In places where pulled or chopped pork is king, it is often the only meat served and simply referred to as "barbecue," dismissing the possibility of ribs or brisket. That's the case here, where the choice is limited to barbecue plates, large or small, barbecue sandwiches with cole slaw, along with barbecue chicken, fried flounder (plate or sandwich) and chicken tenders (Bill Spoon's one nod to modernity). That's about it. Sandwiches are served with hushpuppies, deep-fried balls of cornmeal; entrees with these plus cole slaw. There are more optional sides than main course choices, including baked beans, barbecue potatoes, fries, potato salad, onion rings, macaroni and cheese, and another regional specialty, Brunswick Stew, a chili-like thick concoction that varies widely. It's tomato-based with beans, corn, okra, other vegetables and depending upon where in the South you are, some kind of meat - in these parts it is "barbecue," and North Carolina chefs often also add potatoes.

But the key is the whole-hog cooking, which as the name implies, throws a whole pig in the smoker, typically overnight, which is then chopped to combine the leaner white and fattier dark meats. In contrast, what most of the country serves as pulled pork is solely from the shoulder (aka Boston Butt), which can be smoked much faster. Eastern N.C.-style barbecue is synonymous with both the whole hog and tomato-free vinegar sauce, and is more widely available near the coast. What makes Bill Spoon's special is that it is so accessible – just 15 minutes from Charlotte's busy international airport.

"The east/west split dates back to when there were very few people in the mountains, so east really means east of Raleigh where the coastal plains start and west the Piedmont foothills," said Tom Hanchett, a historian at the city's Levine Museum of the New South and expert on Southern food, who joined me for lunch. "Charlotte is not really in either part, it's a city of newcomers and we have other people's barbecue. One of our most popular restaurants is Georgia-style and we have a lot of Latino and even Vietnamese barbecue, so having Bill Spoon's here is very special. It's eastern, whole hog with some hot pepper in the vinegar."

The pork is finely chopped, quite tender and distinctly smoky, and despite flecks of red pepper visible in the clear sauce, it is neither especially hot nor vinegary, at least not until you add more sauce from the unmarked bottle on the table, which is quite pungent. I found the pork good but not great, and much preferred the sandwich to the plate because the slaw is a perfect complement, adding both crunch and flavor. It's Eastern-style slaw, yellow and mustardy. The Brunswick stew was on the thin side, but very rich, you really taste the beans and meat and Hanchett, who has eaten a lot of the stuff, agreed it was a standout example. The cole slaw was excellent but the best side was the hushpuppies -- crisp on the outside, soft and doughy inside and salty, not at all dry or chewy, clearly made to order and highly addictive.

Besides sweet tea and half and half (half sweet, half unsweet), Bill Spoon's serves an interesting variety of regional sodas, such as the cherry-red Cheerwine and hot (spicy, not temperature) ginger ale, but the one thing you cannot leave without trying is the banana pudding. A staple dessert – often the only dessert – of Southern barbecue joints, it is simple but hard to get right, dependent on real banana slices, from-scratch pudding base, and Nilla wafers added in a timely fashion so they remain crisp and not soggy. This is an exemplary banana pudding, sweet, creamy, fruity, crispy and oh so good.

As regular readers of this column know, few people love barbecue more than I do. But while Carolina-style chopped or pulled pork with vinegar-based sauce is my least favorite genre, Bill Spoon's is one of my favorite barbecue joints because it is a joint, and while progress is fine in the food world, there is something admirable about its uncompromising, single-minded aesthetic. It's hard to imagine that walking in ten or twenty years ago would have been any different. In a fast globalizing world where regional traditions are sometimes in danger of disappearing or being Brooklynized, changelessness can be a good thing.

What regulars say: "When you talk old-line barbecue in the Charlotte area, this is it," said historian and Southern food guru Tom Hanchett from Charlotte's Levine Museum of the New South.

Pilgrimage-worthy?: Yes, to try the distinctive Eastern Carolina whole-hog barbecue if you are not headed to the smaller towns of Eastern Carolina.

Rating: Yum! (Scale: Blah, OK, Mmmm, Yum!, OMG!)

Details: 5524 South Boulevard, Charlotte; 704-525-8865; spoonsbarbecue.com

Larry Olmsted has been writing about food and travel for more than 15 years. An avid eater and cook, he has attended cooking classes in Italy, judged a barbecue contest and once dined with Julia Child. Follow him on Twitter, @TravelFoodGuy, and if there's a unique American eatery you think he should visit, send him an e-mail at travel@usatoday.com. Some of the venues reviewed by this column provided complimentary services.