Blubbery meat, flavorless BBQ sauce, argumentative owner / cook, but at
least the server was kind. We should?ve been put off by the toilet
plungers (literally) they used to hold the paper towels, but we tried to
see past that as some twisted sense of southern charm.
The ribs were incredibly fatty and the sauce tasted like ketchup or at
best generic store-brand BBQ sauce. When we told our server that we
didn?t think we could eat the ribs, the owner came out and taught us what
ribs were ?supposed? to be like. For some reason we allowed ourselves to
be persuaded and made another effort at digesting the oleaginous ribs, (I
am still nauseous just thinking about it).
Perhaps some people are able to swallow mouths full of lard to get at the
occasional bits of meat, but we were not. As a result we, trying very
hard to appreciate the ?genuine southern ribs,? waded and chewed and dug
for the bits of meat in between the grease and blubber. My wife thought
it tasted like soap; it occurred to me that we could probably render it
and make soap.
The server tried very hard to accommodate us and was in the process of
getting us something else but after a second round of defensive bickering
and hand-waving from the owner we departed lest we lose our cool.
Props to the Tropigator (bottled) sauce. It made the otherwise bland
fried okra and fried green tomatoes palatable. Do yourself a favor and
steer clear of this joint.