the absurd observers

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Sweet barbecue

there is nothing remotely political about these posts. But they are odes to gluttony, and for that they deserve recognition. An example:

After my long walk, I took Carolyn Wells to lunch at another celebrated Kansas City smokehouse, Fiorella's Jack Stack in the suburb of Martin City. Wells—who founded the Kansas City Barbeque Society and still runs it—is tall, energetic, and charming, with a brassy Southern accent. For a while we batted back and forth theories about why barbecue is so iconic in America—its cowboy roots, the intimate connection of barbecue and drinking, the thrilling alchemy of turning a cheap cut of meat into a delicacy, etc., etc.—until finally she said the most romantic, and most true, thing I have ever heard about barbecue.

"Once, I was judging a competition, and there was a box of shoulder, and I opened it up. It was so beautiful! I just wanted to stick my face in it. I just wanted to bury my face in it."


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