The Fire We Carry: A Conversation on Grief, Purpose, and Barbecue
“You might start with your own dream, but it’s the people who show up beside you that make it real.”
There are people in barbecue who can talk about smoke science for hours, and then there are those who remind you why the smoke matters.
Anthony DiBernardo is one of the latter.
The founder of Swig & Swine BBQ in Charleston, Anthony’s journey is a story of risk, resilience, and rebirth. Speaking with him, you don’t just hear a man talking about brisket, you hear a craftsman who bet everything on himself, backed by faith and a family that refused to let him fall.
Before he built one of South Carolina’s most respected barbecue brands, Anthony was just a guy with a passion and a dream that didn’t quite fit the safe route. He didn’t come from a long line of pitmasters or inherit a family restaurant. What he inherited was a work ethic, a belief in showing up, and the grit to start something from scratch.
When he opened Swig & Swine, it wasn’t backed by deep pockets or investors, it was fueled by his siblings pitching in, long nights, and pure conviction. “I knew if I didn’t try, I’d regret it forever,” he said. And that’s the heart of barbecue, isn’t it? You can’t fake it. You can’t rush it. You can only put in the time and hope that your faith in the process pays off.
But this conversation wasn’t just about the grind. It was about the gravity that comes when life reminds you how fragile all of it really is. Anthony recently lost his son, Asher, and when he spoke about him, the fire in his eyes shifted, from ambition to remembrance. There was no bravado, no need to perform. Just a father carrying both the love and the loss, still finding purpose through smoke and service.
That’s where Holy Smokes BBQ Festival comes in. The event, hosted in Charleston, isn’t just another stop on the competition circuit. It’s a gathering with heart, a festival that brings together pitmasters from across the country to raise money for families staying at Ronald McDonald Houses. For those families, it’s not just about a place to rest. It’s about hope, community, and care when life feels unbearably heavy.
Anthony knows that feeling firsthand. And maybe that’s why Holy Smokes hits so close this year. “It’s not just about cooking,” he said, “it’s about doing something that helps somebody else get through the hardest days of their life.”
Barbecue, at its best, has always been more than meat and wood. It’s about people. It’s about what happens when you gather around the fire, not to show off, but to give back. Anthony’s story reminds us that the pit isn’t just a place of creation; it’s a place of healing. Every rack of ribs, every chopped pork sandwich, every shared laugh over smoke, it’s all a quiet act of service.
When you listen to him talk about his team, you realize that the heart of Swig & Swine isn’t just in the kitchen. It’s in the camaraderie, the mentorship, the shared pride in doing something right. “You can’t do this alone,” he said. “You might start with your own dream, but it’s the people who show up beside you that make it real.”
That’s the thread that runs through everything: family, faith, and fire. Anthony’s siblings believed in him when the bank wouldn’t. His staff believed in his vision when the hours got long. And now, even after loss, he believes in something bigger than himself, using his craft to build comfort for others.
That’s what Holy Smokes captures so well: the intersection of passion and purpose. Pitmasters from all over come together, not just to showcase skill, but to remind each other why the smoke still matters. It’s not about ego; it’s about empathy. It’s not about competition; it’s about compassion. When I think back on our conversation, I’m reminded that every great pitmaster carries more than recipes; they carry stories. They carry scars. They carry memories of what was lost and what was gained around the fire.
Anthony’s story is one of them. It’s a reminder that even when the smoke clears and the crowd goes home, barbecue remains a language of love, one that feeds the body, yes, but also the soul.
So when Holy Smokes returns, remember: every ticket, every plate, every volunteer hour, it all adds up to something far greater than the sum of its parts. It’s barbecue with a purpose. It’s fire that gives back.
And maybe that’s the truest version of barbecue there is.
Watch Anthony share his story.