Who's afraid of a big, bad, barbecue fight? Not John Lindner, who picks one in this week's Shallow Thought Wednesday post. LV
Amateur barbecue, however it's spelt, is the art of spending the whole day drinking beer, achieving charred meat, and getting others to consider that a job well done.
It's a cooking process the stamina for which I neither have nor want. Barbecuing, like deer hunting, has its charms. I get both practices. At times I have even wished to participate in the rituals, but, when it comes right down to it, only for the beer and camaraderie. My ilk is also a major fan of the 19th hole and the ski lodge fireplace.
Nor am I particularly goo-goo over barbecue's end product; that is, the charred meat; as opposed to the sodden barbecuista.
But barbecue done well is a wonderful thing—when the mood for sticky fingers strikes.
It was this mood and an urging of curiosity that led me to check out Big Bad Wolf's House of Barbecue.
My review: It's perfect. Cool little shack. Better buds than mine have given it a 4. Nuff said.
Because it's so obviously good, BBW's got me thinking about the designation "the best."
How is it we determine "the best"?
Is there only one instance of "the best" or is "the best" a category? Is BBW "the best" or merely one of "the best"?
After moments of wracking my brain, an unoriginal thought occurred to me: "the best" is not a designation but a gauntlet. It incites the one thing we are all good at: disputation.
I like BBW. I’ll return. It has, after all, the best corn bread.
Photo by Michael Lorenzo, courtesy Stock Xchng