The One about the Barbecue

Barbecue does not exist in Portland, which is a little surprising since this is a town of transplants {as in, few people who live here are actually from here}. You would think that in a town of 2.5 million people, there has to be at least one guy from Memphis or Kansas City or Texas who's walking around Portland in his raincoat and too tight jeans, blessed with the ability to cook meat. Seriously dude, get off the vegan-bandwagon, set up the smoker, and start churning out some decent sauce and pulled pork sandwiches! The people need you!! I need you!!!

I'm talking about this because on Saturday night Mark and I did the unthinkable. Our craving for barbecue was so strong we blinded ourselves to the fact that the restaurant we went to, one that claimed to have the best barbecue in town, also served pasta. Seriously. When have you ever been to Buddy's* and ordered a side spaghetti? It was not good. It wasn't even barbecue. It was a roast beef sandwich on a french roll with some inedible sauce. Bummer.

So now you know about this niche that desperately needs to be filled. I'm talking piles of riches to whoever gets here first. The soggy people of Portland, who endure ten months of crummy weather each year, will be buying your hush puppies by the box. I promise.

*Buddy's is the main BBQ joint in Knoxville and it is Dee-licious!