“I can’t tell if y’all are serious right now… like we’re not actually going in there, are we?” It’s not rare at all for me to question my parents motives. I am generally confused by the choices they make, and even more so when it involves food. My dad is the king of food. Well, at least he thinks he is. Every single time we go on vacation he searches every restaurant on “Yelp” before we are allowed to eat anywhere. Not only is my dad the king of food, he’s more specifically the king of barbecue, and the king of dragging us into every BBQ place we pass, forever in seek of the world’s greatest BBQ.
“We have to go in!” My dad says excitedly, scrolling down the screen of his iPhone. “One review says that its a hole in the wall, but definitely somewhere you want to come back to!” We’ve been sitting parked outside the small shack for about 15 minutes now debating whether to go in or not. It would be nearly impossible for my father to pass up this opportunity at this point, especially with an obsessive compulsive attitude and an irrational love for pulled pork.
“Bruce, I don’t feel comfortable leaving all of our luggage in this car in this neighborhood… oh my gosh, look at this guy” my mom says nervously. I shift my gaze from the sketchy BBQ shack to a tall man slowly walking past our car with bright red sweatpants half way down his thighs. The general population of the people at my high school dress like that, so I wasn’t too taken back by his outfit. However, I could see how this place gives off that “I’ve been broken into one too many times” vibe. After thoroughly examining the menu online, my dad finally made an executive decision to eat there. I stayed in the back of the pack as my family walked in, studying the flyers and signs outside while trying not to look too uneasy. ‘No masks, no weapons, no sagging.’ Oh, well that one’s reassuring.
“Welcome to K & J Rib Shack,” I hear a strong female voice say as I step inside. Looking to my right I can see that this place is pretty much just a kitchen with 4 tables, and I’m assuming they had no heaters, because I was starting to wish I had on about 3 more layers of clothing. We were the only customers, and I questioned how long ago the last visitors ate there. While my dad orders everything on the menu for all of us to try, my sister and I take a seat. My mom joins us. As our food takes 20 minutes to prepare, I sit in my cold chair watching the entrance and waiting for something horrible to happen. I imagined every crime scene possible. Luckily, there weren’t too many masked saggers robbing the shack with a machine gun that day.
One of the two employees brought out the food which was individually grouped in plastic containers. Even as a lover of BBQ, I was almost scared to try it. But as soon as I laid my eyes on that creamy macaroni and cheese, I knew had to dive in. It was alright. Actually, it was really just average. I wanted to get home and I was starting to think this was a huge waste of time. I decided to give this place one more chance and grabbed the container of lima beans. After one bite… I was fucking sold. I had never tasted such a damn good lima bean in my damn good life. For a sketchy BBQ shack in the middle of nowhere, they sure knew how to make some beans. Although the search for the world’s best BBQ is still in occurrence, this hole in the wall sure has my vote for best lima beans. You can quote me on that, Yelp.
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