When it comes to barbecue, the world is easily divided into sprawling joints that are a happy synthesis of a country fair and Disneyland, and places so small you have to step outside to consider what to order.

The first runs to crowd-pleaser chains like Lucille’s Smokehouse BBQ, Wood Ranch BBQ & Grill and Famous Dave’s Bar-B-Q, which sits on Long Beach Harbor, and includes a logo of a happy pig cheerfully cooking skewers of pork parts over a blazing fire, a moose head and the admonition to “Eat like a pig.” The place is fun. And the food is good — especially for big tables of properly gluttonous family members. There’s a bar, too. Does a dry martini go with long smoked ribs? It’s a puzzlement.

But then, though Long Beach is a city where lots of folks like their barbecue experience served with bells and whistles, we also have a deep-seated love of small neighborhood BBQ joints. Places that perfume the air with the smell of smoke and burning meat. Where paper plates are as fancy as it gets. And where there may be a fridge of beers — if there are beers at all.

In the Long Beach area, we have an abundance of options: Wrigley’s BBQ & Grill (2336 Pacific Ave., Long Beach; 562-726-1374), Lacquered (3632 E. Broadway, Long Beach; 562-881-8105), Robert Earl’s BBQ (703 E. Artesia Blvd., Long Beach; 562-726-1116, robertearlsbbq.com), Hambones BBQ & Po’Boys (9342 Alondra Blvd., Bellflower; 562-920-1090, hambonesbarandgrill.com), Twins Smoke House BBQ (1555 W. Willow St., Long Beach; 562-427-4800, twinssmokehousebbq.com).

There are so many more, including a duo of fine destinations that are relatively new on the scene — and totally neighborhood friendly. Support your local ‘que shop!

There isn’t actually any black pork, a Korean breed of pig from Jeju Island, on the menu at Black Pork (1916 W. Willow St., Long Beach; 562-247-8932, www.blackporkca.com). But there is plenty of eclecticism, with a menu that happily meanders all over the map. And there is blackened salmon, which is not a dish I’d expect to find at a ’que shop. But then, when it’s this good … why not? The owners are Luis and Veronica, a couple who love cooking, love serving — and exude joy in the process. It’s hard not to feel cared for at Black Pork.

They infuse the shop with the sort of genuine joy that chains just can’t muster. They’re not interested in turnover, but rather in turning diners into family. And they make one heck of an order of baby back ribs, long-marinated and slow-smoked; teeth are barely needed to chew them off the bone. The braised short ribs melt with each bite. The pork belly skewers are a culinary indulgence that cancels out any desire to diet.

There’s a section of tacos on the menu because, well, why not? They include a taco made with sweetbreads, topped with the house chimichurri — a taco from an alternative universe. There are fried cauliflower tacos with aioli, too, which bring joy to vegetarian hearts. There’s fried cheese on the burger, served on homemade black bread. Sides run from mussels with guajillo chiles to a “mac and cheese bomb.” It comes with cheese sauce on the side. Because, you know, you can never have enough when you’re having too much.

A fair distance to the south of Black Pork, down on madcap Second Street, there’s Rib Bro (5295 E. Second St., Belmont Shore); 562-343-1002, ribbrobbq.com). It’s not just geographically far from Black Pork, but it’s a world away in style as well.

This is a Korean barbecue shop. Or, to be more precise, Korean American. For the dishes are largely of the Southern and Texan style. But the flavoring is very much Korean. Especially in the use of the glorious red chili paste called gochujang.

It’s all over the menu — and all over the dishes as well. It’s on the pork, on the chicken wings, on the loaded fries. I bet you can get it in the mac and cheese with bacon bits if you ask nicely. Maybe the BBQ baked beans, too. Couldn’t hurt.

There’s a sandwich here called Brisket Heaven — which could be a Jewish deli dish, except for the provolone and blue cheese atop the hyper-tender beef, and the onion rings riding high on the whole concoction.

If you want a serious hit of gochujang, try the gochujang pork sandwich — chargrilled meat, spread thick with the spicy-and-sweet Korean chili sauce. You can choose the pork as well as your meat of choice on the barbecue salad. The meat comes sliced or chopped; I like chopped — more surface area, more smoke.

The meats are all over the loaded fries as well, along with cheddar cheese and sour cream; you want more food with that … hard to imagine. There’s loaded cornbread, too.

In this case, there are five draft beers, including one called Boomtown Bad Hombre Lager. It goes so well … with everything.

Merrill Shindler is a Los Angeles-based freelance dining critic. Email mreats@aol.com.