Burned by the Burn in Tulsa

Burn Co Barbeque
1738 S. Boston Ave.
Tulsa, OK






I don't usually give negative reviews, but this is a warning to all the other suits out there -- ignore the hype you will find about Tulsa's Burn Barbeque.

I was really looking forward to visiting The Burn while I was in Tulsa this weekend.  The Yelp reviews were outstanding, great atmosphere, lines of people...everything looked promising.

But this was the most utterly tasteless, fat filled crap I have eaten.  I was about ready to puke on the walk out.

It was that bad.

Literally just no flavor in the pulled pork.  It was like flavorless lard.  There was little flavor in the sausage and none in coleslaw.

Avoid the Burn!  (Why I am repeating myself?  Because repetition is the key to learning).

This says it all...

I have no idea why Tulsa voted this the best BBQ place, but food wise, I saw nothing to redeem it.

One of my rules for great BBQ is "if you don't feel safe at the restaurant at night, then the BBQ is gong to be great." This place is on S Boston Ave, a gentrified part of town, with expensive coffee shops.

Strike one.

That should have been a dead give away there was something wrong.

Strike two was the bar menu...some solid beer choices, but too many craft beers for great BBQ and mixed drinks with Red Bulls were on the menu -- strike three.

Rating: Clean Grill with Shirt.

Downtown BBQ Makes the Grade in KC

Winslow’s BBQ
20 E. 5th St.
Kansas City, MO





Sometimes I feel like a Kansas City barbeque failure.

I pride myself on my barbeque tasting expertise. You name the smoke shack or pig joint and chances are I’ve been there, tasted the ‘que, lived to tell you all about it and bought the shirt (or cleaned my grill with it).

I feel like I have a good handle on a wide cross section of the meat served in all the barbeque Meccas like Memphis, Columbia, Lexington and Lockhart.

But I’ve never really eaten my way through Kansas City, one of America’s great ‘que towns.

Oh sure, I’ve done the obligatory stops at Gates and Arthur Bryant’s.

Who hasn’t?

But to really get a sense of the barbeque culture of a city, you have to do more than just check off the list of places that make regular appearances on cable TV.

And that’s where I feel like I can improve my performance in Kansas City.

I need to hit up L.C.’s, Rosedale and Danny Edwards -- the lesser known pit houses where the locals go to get real KC ‘que.

Unfortunately, all those venerable authentic smoke shacks tend to congregate on the south side of Kansas City -- a place where Suit757 rarely travels.

In general, local dive barbeque shacks tend to be in the parts of town Suit757 doesn’t have much business. (I’ll let you speculate about why that might be.)

Of course geographic inconvenience has never stopped me before. But with a tight schedule, I knew venturing out to wilds of South KC wasn’t going to be in the cards on this trip either.

There’s got to be some place in this barbeque crazed city to get some ribs and burnt ends near downtown.

Sure enough, I found Winslow’s BBQ.

It’s been around for over four decades. That’s a good sign.

Won lots of awards. Another good sign.

But when I walked up to Winslow’s I quickly realized that it is located in one of those fake touristy taxpayer subsidized “festival marketplaces” downtown along with stores selling souvenir KCMO coffee cups and key chains -- and t-shirts that read “Who farted?”

Not a good sign.

And during prime dinner hour I was the only customer in the place.

Definitely NOT a good sign.

There’s no way I’m going to get any sense of authentic KC barbeque at this joint.

But you know what?

The smoked meat served at Winslow’s was downright exquisite.

Too bad I was the only one in Kanas City getting to experience it.

Fortunately, the one lady who did double duty as the lone waitress and bar tender had the TV turned to the MLB Network with the sound turned up loud.

I happily sat there alone positioned directly in front of the TV drinking a big Boulevard Pale Ale out of a plastic cup watching baseball -- just like at the bar in my home.

Only I haven’t figured out how to make barbeque this good at home.

I ordered the three meat platter for $15. It was enough food to feed a family of four.

Five big meaty ribs with pork soft and tender like butter.

The pulled pork was soft and smoky like the best you’d find in North Carolina or Tennessee.

The brisket was best of all.

Usually when you order brisket, you can choose between sliced or chopped. This was like both in one.

The beef was sliced, but it was so tender it fell apart into delicious morsels of chopped brisket with the slightest touch of my fork.

All three meats were smoked to perfection, with telltale red smoke rings.

Most extraordinary was how tender and moist all three meats were.

Dave Winslow, the original founder, hired an engineer to invent a steam pit that evaporates 50 gallons of water per day.

At Winslow’s, the meat isn’t just smoked. It’s enveloped in steam for hours, yielding fall apart moist barbeque that needs no sauce.

Of course being Suit757, I had to try it anyway.

East Coast barbeque purists love to disparage Kansas City style barbeque for the thick glops of ketchupy sauce Midwesterners supposedly like to slather onto their meat.

Here at Winslow’s, that sauce discretion is left to the barbeque eater.

Winslow’s sauce was not as thick or sweet as some Kansas City sauces.

The sauce was good -- but unnecessary.

Some purists would claim it would be a crime to cover up such perfect barbeque with sauce.

For me, the real crime was that I was the only customer in the place.

Where the heck is everybody? There should be a line out the door for barbeque this good.

I think it is the location.

Nobody goes downtown anymore.

This has been a known phenomenon in virtually every American city since the advent of the shopping mall forty years ago.

This is the type of problem politicians like to solve with our tax money.

Of course they don’t bother to consider the REASON nobody goes downtown any more.

Business owners don’t open businesses downtown because…

…wait for it…

…nobody goes downtown any more.

So here’s the solution: pay business owners to locate downtown with taxpayer financed “festival marketplaces” like KC’s River Market.

But no matter how many tax subsidized businesses locate downtown, the politicians can’t create customers out of thin air.

Because nobody goes downtown any more.

No matter how good the barbeque happens to be.

And that’s too bad.

Winslow’s deserves a wider audience than just from suits who don’t have time to venture to the south side of town.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!

Do I smell smoked meat?

Louie Mueller Barbecue
206 W 2nd St.
Taylor, TX 76574




Smoked meat.

It's a Texas specialty.

And though I complain incessantly about Texas, this is one area that I am left speechless.

Louie Mueller Barbecue is legendary. I know this because my good friend Suit757 told me so. In fact, I made him quite jealous by visiting this establishment before him.


Well-smoked Texas Flag

Located about 40 minutes Northeast of downtown Austin, this place is an absolute must visit. But make sure you don't go too late in the day, because once they are out of meat, they're done for the day, and you're out of luck.

And, trust me, you don't want to miss this.

Walking into Louie Mueller Barbecue, you'll notice everything has a thin, or thick, layer of soot on it, and the wonderful smell of smoke in the air.

In fact, one of my compatriots shared with me that when the current owner took over the family business from his father, he attempted to clean the soot off the walls, much to the displeasure of the regular patrons of this fine establishment.

From then on, it seems that they don't bother with it. And why would you? It adds so much character to the place and it is how a good smokehouse should look.

It's a good thing that I came to this place with experienced patrons,
not to mention a large group, because I don't think I could have handled this trip alone.

The specialty of this place is beef ribs. In other words, dinosaur bones. And you buy them by the pound. For our group, we ordered over four pounds of ribs.

This was a massive pile of meat. And it just fell right off the bones. It was so tender and delicious, I was tempted to throw some in my carry on, but figured TSA might have an issue with my suitcase leaking grease.


 I had no idea how to even divide the spoils among our group, so I passed my knife to the native Texan in the group to handle the situation. When in Texas, trust the Texan.

And this is where I will start my regularly scheduled rant. I don't understand barbecue bigotry. I am constantly reminded by my Southern brethren of the atrocities of the North against the South in the War Between the States, which happened over 150 years ago, and I had nothing do with it.

My point in bringing this up is that the South can't even get along with each other. I'm told by folks from Tennessee and the Carolinas that you can only smoke pork. Meanwhile, in Texas, the only true barbecue is beef.

Not trying to sound like a hippy here, but why can't we all just get along? All smoked meat is a good thing. And that includes pork, beef, chicken, turkey, fish, alligator, and so on. Smoke does a wonderful thing to meat, and it should all be enjoyed.

So, until the South can get along on the issue of smoked meat, I'm not too concerned about them "rising" again anytime soon.

End of rant.

To go along with these delicious ribs, we also purchased a quart of potato salad which, in my book, is a must with BBQ. I'm often disappointed by the potato salad offered at what would be considered good BBQ joints. For some places, it's almost an afterthought.

In my book, a truly good BBQ joint has excellent potato salad, and Louie Mueller didn't disappoint. Their potato salad is full of flavor and went very well with the ribs.

While enjoying this delicious meal, I started to realize that my eyes were starting to sting from all of the smoke. It fell like I was sitting around a campfire, and I loved it.

To finish things off, I was given the recommendation to try the peach cobbler. I was not disappointed in this endeavor as well. It was warm and fresh, and completed with a scoop of Texas' own Blue Bell vanilla ice cream.

I left Louie Mueller Barbecue with a full stomach, a satisfied craving for barbecue, and smelling like smoke that would make anyone sitting next to me on my flight jealous that I had enjoyed delicious smoked meat, and they hadn't.

 Take my word for it. This place is worth the detour if you are in the Austin area.

And if you are one of those close-minded "There is only one true form of BBQ", get off your high horse and go enjoy the diversity of smoked meats that are all over this great country of ours.

Rating: Bought the Smoke-filled Shirt!

Bar-B-Que Authenticity Reaches its Limits in the Exurbs of Nashville

Martin’s Bar-B-Que Joint
7238 Nolensville Rd.
Nolensville, TN





The name of this place is Martin’s Bar-B-Que Joint.

So what do we know about this place right off the bat?

Right. It’s not going to be an authentic bar-b-que joint.

Because authentic bar-b-que joints don’t call themselves “joints”.

It’s kind of like the difference between my authentic redneck friends and the ones that call themselves rednecks.

My authentic redneck friends don’t even know that they are rednecks. In fact, they might even be mildly insulted if I referred to them as such.

So I don’t.

Of course my nouveau redneck friends would take it as a compliment.

Another reason I walked through the front door of Martin’s Bar-B-Que Joint with a mind full of suspicion was the address.

Nolensville, Tennessee.

This is Exurban Hell, USA.

Twenty-five miles south of Nashville, Nolensville is one of those quiet rural towns that have the misfortune of being within commuting distance of a big city.

Exurbs like Nolensville are where white Republicans flee to when they tire of the indignities of urban and suburban life.

Or when they have kids. And they’ve convinced themselves that the government schools in the exurbs have vastly superior ability to shape their children’s’ young minds of mush, ignoring the fact that higher test scores are nothing more than a reflection of the demographics of the kids being tested, not any competence on the part of the government.

Yep. Southern exurbs like Nolensville are the types of places where the 22% of the registered voters who actually voted for Obama won’t admit it to the other 78%.

Where Republicans move to when they want the simplicity of rural living but can’t bear to give up Home Depot or Starbucks.

Drive in a circle 30 miles around any major Southern city and you will notice the trend too.

Cookie-cutter brick McMansions on three-quarter acre lots. Minivans and SUVs. Applebee’s and Panera Bread.

In my opinion, exurban living is the worst trend since heterosexual men started wearing jeans with those faggity ass swirls on the pockets.

My problem with the exurbs is they lack authenticity.

The whole point of rural living is to slow down and immerse yourself is a culture that is genuine and timeless.

Where everyone knows everyone.

Where the old man at the mom and pop hardware store speaks with such a thick drawl you can only comprehend every third word – but you nod your head anyway.

Where the local pitmaster runs a bar-b-que joint that really is a joint, has been a joint for decades, and he would be somewhat offended if you told him so.

But in exurban towns like Nolensville such remnants of genuine rural living quickly become displaced by urban refugees and relocated Yankees willing to commute two hours per day to get a taste of country living, no matter how inauthentic.

I mean it’s fun to claim you’ve moved out to the country as long as you don’t have to smell cow manure, ride behind a slow moving tractor or get your Range Rover repaired by some toothless yokel.

Situated in a modern suburban strip mall, Martin’s Bar-B-Que Joint is a perfect metaphor for the town in which it resides.

Or so I thought.

Sometimes you have to let the bar-b-que speak for itself.

The first thing I noticed is that there is nothing inauthentic about the smoke billowing out of the big black smoke pit smack dab in the middle of the restaurant.

That’s a smell, my friends, that can’t be faked.

Martin’s slowly smokes its pork and beef over hard wood for hours.

This place might be as polished as the granite counter tops in the custom homes popping up down the street, but the bar-b-que is strictly old school.

I ordered the “Redneck Taco” -- which in reality is neither.

While no authentic redneck would ever order it, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t delicious.

The “Redneck Taco” is a slab of corn bread with pulled pork, cole slaw and tangy bar-b-que sauce piled on top.

While Martin’s offers a variety of sauce, it chooses to ladle its thin vinegary tomato-based sauce on top of the cole slaw. The result is a tangy, crunchy condiment for the pulled pork below.

Meanwhile the base of this “taco”, the corn bread, soaks up the drippy tasty remnants from the pork, slaw and sauce.

The pork itself benefits well from all these complimentary flavors and textures. It was a bit dry and bland by itself.

The baked beans were top notch, spiked with green pepper and lots of brown sugar.

The walls of this exurban “joint” are decorated with Southern kitsch -- rebel flags, license plates, trucker caps and portraits of pigs and Hank Williams, all carefully staged in a deliberately haphazard arraignment.

A steady stream of kick-ass Outlaw Country poured from the restaurant’s sound system. You just don’t hear the authentic sounds of Merle Haggard, David Allen Coe and Loretta Lynn on the radio anymore.

This is the brand of music the Music Row suits 25 miles north of here banished from the light of day. These are the people responsible for shoving unartistic pop country crap down our throats and out across America’s airwaves.

And I’m quite sure many of these are the same people responsible for turning the dairy farms around Nolensville into house farms -- and after their long commute home from Music Row come to Martin’s Bar-B-Que Joint where they can get themselves some authentic bar-b-que while listening to authentic country music.

For some people this is as authentic as they want to get.

Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying Shirt.

Parking is a Premium at Off Site Kitchen

Off Site Kitchen
2226 Irving Blvd.

Dallas, TX 75207

 

It's been just over two years since my last visit to Texas, and as a guy from the Great Lakes region, I can tell you that I did not look forward to return to the heat of Texas.

I was in the Dallas area on business with a fellow Suit who explained to me that the heat in Texas can get so extreme that bugs will actually melt on the sidewalk. Not the crunchy bugs, he clarified, just the big, fat and juicy ones.

Comforting...

Look, I'm sure Texas is nice not during the summer months, but I can't exactly confirm that, being that I've only really been there during the months that bugs melt.

And don't get me started on the politics of Texas.

Every conservative believes that Texas is somehow a utopia for conservative politics. Texas has worse gun laws than Pennsylvania!

Oh, and you also have to provide all ten fingerprints to get a driver's license in the state. How about that for freedom-loving?

And Rick Perry...where do I even start with him? Sometimes he can be so right and other times he can just be plain stupid. Perry is finally stepping down after being Governor for what seems like since the Civil War. No term limit for the Executive? No thank you...

Oh, and let us not forget that Texas also gave us the Bush dynasty which single-handedly destroyed the Republican Party.

But the people of Texas are good people, so long as you can tolerate them constantly correcting you that everything is better and/or bigger in Texas.

No, but seriously, I shouldn't be so tough on Texas because despite their government and obnoxious heat, it is a nice state. And one thing for sure, they know how to cook.

My fellow suit, being a native Texan, knew that I would be interested in the finest of what Dallas had to offer. He did his research, and brought us to a shady part of town to what looked like from the outside a perfect place for a Suit to review.

Once through the front door, I knew he had just taken me a goldmine of a Suit review.

Off Site Kitchen is everything that a Suit could ask for in a delicious place to eat: severe lack of parking spaces, long line to the register, very little seating, and the smell of smoked meat in the air.

I ordered the special of the day which was half a BBQ chicken with house made BBQ sauce, coleslaw, and Texas toast.

In true Texas fashion, my fellow Suit ordered the Ten Buck Four Burger, which is a burger made up of four 1/4 pound burger patties, for a grand total of a pound of meat, plus a fried egg on top.

I must say, I became envious of that burger. That thing looked awesome, and according to my fellow Suit, it was, as he had to restart his heart several times during the process of eating it.
 

Don't get me wrong, though, my BBQ chicken was delicious. The meat was very moist and flavorful, and the house made BBQ sauce that came with it had the right amount of tang to it.

The only way to truly complete this meal is by washing it down with the beer that is the pride of Texas, Shiner Bock. Now, I'm not going to sit here and sing the praises of Shiner Bock. It's an okay beer and really is about the best Texas can offer. The laws in Texas just absolutely kill the craft beer industry.

Yet another fine example of the lack of freedom in the Lone Star State...

But I salute Shiner for their long history of serving the people of Texas with a quality beer.

Freedom will come some day to Texas so that Texans can actually openly carry a firearm without being thrown in jail, and to know what real good beer tastes like.

Until then, they can keep enjoying their delicious food with a small variety of good beer, while dreaming of the day they can live up to the label of "freest state in the union."

Off Site Kitchen is a must for anyone visiting the Dallas area. It is off the beaten path, and you'll have a hard time finding parking, but it is well worth it.

Rating: Seriously Thought About Buying Shirt

BBQ Corruption in Texas?

 

Bartley's BBQ
413 E. Northwest Hwy.
Grapevine, TX



Texas is no stranger to scandal, corruption and bribery.

Lyndon Johnson’s national political career was launched thanks to the infamous “Box 13 Scandal” in 1948.

Six days after seemingly losing his bid for the U.S. Senate by just a handful of votes, a ballot box from the 13th precinct in what is now Jim Wells County was “discovered.”

Miraculously, all the newly discovered ballots were written in the same ink and all the voters somehow managed to cast their ballots in alphabetical order.

How’s that for Texas creativity?

The vote total from Box 13?

200 for LBJ. 2 for his opponent.

LBJ was declared the new United States Senator from Texas by 87 votes.

Thus began LBJ’s path to the White House where he created the modern American welfare state that has set America on a steady glide-path to economic and social ruin.

Rigged elections have consequences.

But it’s one thing to rig a political election in Texas.

Apparently, that, Texans will tolerate.

Just don’t go messing with their barbeque.

So what I am about to allege will rock the Lone Star State to its core.

Texas Monthly’s revered “The List” of “Top 50 BBQ Joints” is rigged.

How else to explain the inclusion of Bartley’s BBQ in Grapevine?

The twice per decade list just came out to much fanfare a few months ago. And I’ve already been to eight of them.

That’s a pretty good sample size considering I live 1000 miles away from here and Texas is only one out of 50 states Suit757 travels to.

So far, the barbeque I’ve sampled at these now world-renowned smoke shacks has ranged from exquisite to mediocre.

But the inclusion of Bartley’s, a small joint in a run-down strip mall just north of DFW Airport, throws the integrity of the entire “List” into question.

Now, I know what you are thinking.

You’re thinking, “Suit757, isn’t judging Texas barbeque somewhat subjective?”

Somewhat, yes.

But no barbeque eater worth his rub would conclude that the food served by Bartley’s is good barbeque. Certainly not a blue ribbon panel of supposed barbeque experts assembled by Texas Monthly.

Corruption is the only explanation.

That was my conclusion as soon as I picked up my first piece of brisket.

It was so hard and stiff, I thought this cow might be suffering from rigamortis.

I took a picture and planned to submit it to one of those on-line “planking” contests.

Folks, Texas barbeque brisket is supposed to be slow smoked for hours, yielding a fall-apart tender texture that you can just pick up piece by piece with your fingers.

It’s not supposed to be hard like a piece of cold salami.

Like a tough slice of cold roast beef, Bartley’s brisket was a room temperature mouthful of chewy, bland tastelessness.

A thin red smoke ring and a pile of hickory logs out back by the chimney prove that this cow has seen at least a bit of smoke, but I couldn’t taste any of it.

Even the dark bark on the edges had no flavor.

The only way I could even choke it down was to douse the brisket in Bartley’s sweet tomatoey sauce.

The sausage was better, but far from inspiring.

It was basically the same processed pre-cooked smoked link sausage you can buy at your grocery store.

The sides were even less inspiring.

The options in the do-it-yourself cafeteria line were so unappetizing, I opted for some boring baked beans and macaroni salad.

Macaroni salad?

At a Texas BBQ joint?

Yeah. Like I said, uninspiring and unappetizing.

So who did Bartley’s bribe to get included on a list of the best BBQ joints on earth?

Is there a “Box 13” of paper ballots with “Bartley’s” written in the same hand writing stashed somewhere in the bowels of Texas Monthly’s headquarters?

I want to know.

When I fly into a state, I usually have time for exactly one meal. That’s it.

It better be good.

I trusted this “List” to make my decision today.

So I wasn’t just disappointed. I was ticked off.

Like I said, corruption has dire consequences.

A stuffed ballot box in Jim Wells County 65 years ago eventually led to the swearing in of the worst President in the second half of the Twentieth Century.

And a stuffed ballot box at Texas Monthly ruined my trip to North Texas.

I’ll let you decide which is worse.

Rating: Clean Grill with Shirt.

A Shack off the Beaten Track

 

The Shack by the Track
246 Jackson St.
St. George, GA




Did you know that it is possible to drive southbound out of Florida into Georgia?

It is.

I just did it.

Traveling south down County Road 121 through the cattle farms and under the live oak canopies in Nassau County Florida, I hung a right onto Florida Route 2, crossed the St. Mary’s River and found myself in St. George, Georgia -- a good 17 miles southwest of Hilliard, Florida.

St. George is a tiny dot on the map on the edge of the Okefenokee Swamp in that little nook in Southeast Georgia that juts into Florida.

It’s the kind of place I’d daydream about exploring when I was a kid.

Technology has taken all the mystery out of life.

Young Suit757 loved maps.

Loved them.

I’d throw an atlas on the floor and occupy myself for hours exploring the nooks and crannies of the world, using my imagination to wonder what some little obscure dot on the map like St. George, tucked away in some forgotten corner of the world, must be like.

I know. Right?

Kids were so easily amused back then.

Thanks to Google Earth no one needs to wonder any more.

With the click of a mouse, you can place your avatar right there and see for yourself.

Of course viewing the landscapes, dirt roads and boarded up trailers of forgotten little towns on a computer screen doesn’t tell you much about what it might be like to live there among the locals.

But that’s what reality television is for.

Thanks to “Swamp People”, “Snake Salvation”, “Gator Boys” and “Ice Road Truckers”, what nook of America is left to the imagination?

Well, that’s what makes being a Suit in a Strange Place so much fun.

Sure, Google, TLC, Animal Planet and Anthony Bourdain can take couch potatoes virtually to a lot of cool places, but isn’t it more fun to actually check them out yourself?

I think so.

Especially when you bump into backwoods barbeque shacks serving up some of the best smoked pork you’ll ever find, like I did here in this forgotten pocket of the Peach State.

All you’ve got to do is follow your nose to the source of the hickory smoke emanating from the appropriately named Shack by the Track.

Tucked under the Spanish moss-draped live oaks, hard against a busy railroad track, stands a mishmash of sheds, trailers and hand-painted signs beckoning the locals and log truckers barreling through this tiny dot-on-the-map town.

A single take-out window punctured through the knotty pine paneling is where you go to place your order.

Smoke pours out of the chimney rising above the battered tin roof.

A pile of hickory logs stand ready for duty beside the outdoor smoker.

Just as I am about to place my order, the shriek of a Norfolk Southern locomotive horn shatters the tranquility of the steamy Southern landscape.

The shack and ground rumbles as the double-decker train roars past just mere feet from the back of the smoker.

Within a minute or two, I am opening my Styrofoam box to reveal a monstrous mound of pulled pork piled thick between two buns.

There is no humanly possible way to lift it up and eat it like a sandwich -- at least no way that would spare my suit from an expensive dry cleaning bill.

Fortunately, the Shack provided a handy plastic fork.

This is some of the most exquisite barbeque that has ever graced my taste buds.

Soft tender strands of smoky pulled pork gilded with a just the right amount of sweet savory tomato-based sauce, this is the real Southern barbeque I dream about late at night.

It’s the kind of authentic smoked pulled pork that is getting surprisingly hard to find in many large and medium towns in the South -- let alone obscure backwaters like St. George.

Barbeque this good takes real hard wood…

…and real smoke…

…and real pit-masters practicing their craft for hours under Spanish moss and a leaky tin roof.

Now that Brunswick’s Georgia Pig has shut down, I bet there’s not a barbeque sandwich like this within a 150 mile radius.

And this out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere shack, a stone’s throw from the alligator-infested Okefenokee Swamp, seems like the perfectly appropriate place to find it.

And I’m damn glad I did. Because you know what?

No matter how much you paid for that fancy high def TV, The Food Network and Travel Channel just can’t deliver the aromas and flavors of sweet smoked Southern barbeque.

Nope. You’re just going to have to break out that old road atlas and come down here to this obscure little nook of Georgia to experience that yourself.

Rating: Bought the Shirt!