do not drink at the work function. also?

Oh, I have no intention of doing so. It weirds me out. But there will still be other tipsy people. Hence the worser.

wanna go play?

When? (er, you can email me)

But, but, but.... Barbecue sauce!

Now listen here, bub. Just 'cuz you haven't gotten around to poisoning yourself in the last couple months doesn't give you a whole lot of credibility on the cuisine front.

I gather that you have figured out how to pour a bottle of KC Masterpiece over your chicken and put it on the grill without lighting yourself on fire. That's still not the definition of barbecue.

Does Chili come next?

That, or muffalettas.

How do you handle your fork and knife?

I remember the first (and only) time I tasted Northern "barbecue" in Milwaukee when I ordered ribs from a late-night delivery place while attending GenCon. Not only were no spices or sauces used, I suspect they actually boiled the meat to remove any natural flavor that might have resulted from grilling.

I can tell you didn't go to Speed Queen.

Speed Queen.

Is this like Dairy Queen's looser cousin who wears too much make-up and rides in fast cars with questionable boys?

Or perhaps it's Dairy Queen's cousin who is amazingly productive and is always cleaning her house.

Is this like Dairy Queen's looser cousin who wears too much make-up and rides in fast cars with questionable boys?

Clearly it's Dairy Queen's nephew who's a travestite crank addict living in Brooklyn and listening to too much Gloria Estefan.

How do you handle your fork and knife?

Without olives.

Some of the best BBQ I ever had was in Vermont:

[link]

Before going back home, I had to find Curtis. I heard from someone that there was an old dude around Putney named Curtis who sells ribs out of a blue school bus. I had to find out for myself. I drove though downtown, not really knowing what to look for. A blue school bus of course, but where would it be? By the side of the road? Constantly on the move? Eventually, I saw enough smoke rising up into the sky to make me think a small building must be on fire. I drove a bit closer and found Curtis’s BBQ: “The 9th Wonder of the World.” I figure there are at least a thousand places in the country claiming that same title, which dilutes the strength of Curtis’s shameless statement. 9th Wonder, my ass.

Pulling into the parking lot up in front of his blue school bus, which is stationary, I see Curtis off to the right cooking in what can only be described as a pigpen. The only pigs in it are roasting away over tin trashcans converted into grills. From the looks of it, he’s currently cooking the ribs from three giant pigs and 20 whole chickens, cut in half. Oh yeah, time to get my food on.

I order some ribs, a Curtis Birch Beer and took it over to a picnic table. The ribs are the best I’ve ever had in my life. Slathered in tangy sauce with the meat falling-off-the-bone tender. These were magic ribs and I am a believer that Curtis’s BBQ truly is the 9th Wonder of the World.

For picture: [link]

Without olives.

Sure. Because it's hard to cut stuff with olives stuck on the ends of your fingers. They tend to get smushed.