I have the most intense craving for barbecue.
Not steak- though we did have awesome bacon wrapped filets with grilled asparagus and my mom's foil-pouch potatoes last night (I burnt them but good, and Gary and I fought over the delicious crispy bits).
Not hamburgers, or hot dogs, or even smokies on a bun drizzled in ketchup and sweet bavarian mustard.
No, I mean barbecue. Slow cooked smoked meats, cold slaw salads, buttery corn on the cob, icy beer, spicy, tangy sauce. I don't eat pork, but in the past 6 months I've changed my mind. Hit me, hit me with some meat, for the love of god.
And a side order of hush puppies.
I don't know where this craving is coming from, if it's a throwback to my paternal grandfather, who was from Alabama, or if it's just that it is hot, it is summer, give me barbecue.
Maybe I can convince Mama and Papa B to take me out to Big T's on Saturday. A girl can hope?
(if not, then maybe Mexican? Yes?)
1 day ago