Brandon T.
Yelp
I've always said it's hard to find bad barbecue. Mission accomplished.
The place was packed. It was hard to find parking. That says to me it's going to be good food.
The line to be seated was long, but the menu is built for speed. The barbecue is all pork. Other things are fried -- chicken, steak, shrimp, fries, hush puppies. We thought we'd time it to see how long it took from placing our order to being served: two minutes, 17 seconds.
It takes me more time to open a can of food and scoop it in my dog's bowl, if that tells you anything about the level of care and pride here.
It seems that there are paper plates of the limited menu items sitting out, ready to quickly marry with sides and whip out to tables to maximize turns. This place is well known, and I think that's its downfall. Maybe at one point it was good food, but the decisions seemingly made to speed abundant and willing customers through their meals have resulted in factory-fast-food-flavorless barbecue, and that's not what barbecue is at all.
The meat was gray and tasteless. Tough and chewy. No smoky taste, despite us being told there was a pit out back where it was prepared. No smoke ring -- though I'd not have been surprised to find a cigarette butt.
Mine tasted strange. It took me a minute to realize it was the "sauce."
The "sauce" is called "dip." Until today, I thought of "dip" as something thick you'd put on a potato chip. It turns out it's more akin to something you put between your cheek and gums and spit into an old cup. It was watery and gross.
I have long ago noticed that if a place can't smoke meat well, the beans will show it. The beans here were runny and mushy, and tasted a little like the aluminum can they must've came out of. For $1.49, a can of Bush's Country Style beans are far better.
There is cole slaw. Instead of mayonnaise, they use ketchup. I think I'm going to be sick. The resulting concoction looks the color of pink you'd find in a dirty toilet bowl. I couldn't even stand to look at it.
There were what was termed hush puppies. Growing up in the south, I know well those little brown cornmeal dough balls. Imagine my surprise to find these were not hush puppies at all, but were thin little tubes of cornmeal dough, lightly fried, looking as through they'd been squirted raw into the oil and fished out when they bobbed to the top. Little crust, little flavor, and little in size. Bleah!
I could be wrong about all of this. Barbecue is regional and it's personal, and some of us take pride in it. I've eaten it from Texas to Illinois, Virginia to Florida, and I've rarely found anything I didn't like. My go-to is always the pork (usually pulled) because it's a barbecue staple and I can judge it based on hundreds of meals that came before.
This was the first time in 50+ years of tasting it that I had pork I simply couldn't eat. Two bites was all I could stomach. My two companions agreed, and we made jokes about it the rest of the afternoon. I think that says something.
Barbecue isn't hard to do, but it's a challenge to master. Why someone would go such a radically different direction on literally everything about barbecue -- ketchup slaw, watery "dip," flavorless meat -- is just baffling, as is the loyalty this place holds.
Our waitress was delightful, and her service was good and her smile was sweet, and she was clearly the highlight of the day.