Damnit, yesterday was Bastille Day. Just now remembered.
Oh, well, wasn’t like there was anybody I wanted to see at the Bastille Day Block Party anyway. That and I got busy paying the phone bill, replacing the brake pads on my bike, sewing a new patch on my jacket, biking twenty and a half miles, blah blah blah…
You know what else I forgot? To get a picture of my brisket sandwich from Smoke In The Pit last night. Because I was hungry and in a hurry to watch Tremors with GF. So, uh, let me steal something from Google Images. Be right back.
That image comes from Mpls St. Paul Mag and it’s about as close to what I had as possible. Don’t worry, I used to steal pics all the time when I did Sound Design and Assembly. Nobody cares unless you hotlink or don’t credit. I did neither of those things.
Anyway, that pic is the pulled pork sandwich with fries and coleslaw, I had the brisket sandwich with the same sides except the guy gave me way more fries than what’s in that pic. GF got the rib tip dinner with fries and baked beans. The guy even threw in an extra cup of barbecue sauce.
The barbecue sauce is made in house and is sweet and spicy and I’m not joking when I say spicy. I mean there is legitimate heat to the sauce. The fries are covered in season salt, crispy on the outside and soft inside. But the real celebrity voice cameo in this twice-monthly updated true crime podcast is the meat itself. Moist, succulent, tender, all those words that overgrown children playing at “adulting” claim to hate because basically it reminds them of swamp-pussy but they don’t want to come out and say it.
Admit it: If you are an adult and you have a problem saying “moist”, it’s because you don’t want to admit to thinking of swamp-pussy. Or swamp-nuts, but swamp-nuts tend to be more damp than moist. Swamp-pussy is moist, like red velvet cake. Swamp-nuts are damp, like a sweaty t-shirt. See? “Moist” and “damp” each have their applications. (TL;DR: Grow up.)
Anyway, the moist, luscious, juicy meat falls apart in your mouth and is smokey and sweet thus not requiring any extra sauce. (I dipped my fries in the extra sauce.)
I think Smoke In The Pit might be GF’s favorite BBQ place, maybe just her go-to, there’s a chance it’s both. She picked me up some BBQ from there before and I neglected togive it the ol’ Bully rough up.
Oh, god, that sounded lame.
She picked me up some BBQ from there before and I neglected to review it, so I’m trying to correct that now. This is excellent BBQ to which I am doing a disservice. I should be writing this closer to meal time so the impression is still fresh on my palette, I should have taken my own pic, all that. Alas, I fucked up. But it’s fantastic barbecue and you should give them your money. That pic up there? Yeah, they give you way more fries than that and they’re super nice, too.
Caveat: It’s pick-up only. They do have patio seating in the summer but during winter it’s probably for the best if you call ahead. For a brisket sandwich with fries and slaw and rib tips with fries and baked beans at about seven-ish on a July summer night, we were told the order would be ready in fifteen minutes, your mileage may vary but that sounded like a super reasonable wait time to me.
Oh, well, wasn’t like there was anybody I wanted to see at the Bastille Day Block Party anyway. That and I got busy paying the phone bill, replacing the brake pads on my bike, sewing a new patch on my jacket, biking twenty and a half miles, blah blah blah…
You know what else I forgot? To get a picture of my brisket sandwich from Smoke In The Pit last night. Because I was hungry and in a hurry to watch Tremors with GF. So, uh, let me steal something from Google Images. Be right back.
Anyway, that pic is the pulled pork sandwich with fries and coleslaw, I had the brisket sandwich with the same sides except the guy gave me way more fries than what’s in that pic. GF got the rib tip dinner with fries and baked beans. The guy even threw in an extra cup of barbecue sauce.
The barbecue sauce is made in house and is sweet and spicy and I’m not joking when I say spicy. I mean there is legitimate heat to the sauce. The fries are covered in season salt, crispy on the outside and soft inside. But the real celebrity voice cameo in this twice-monthly updated true crime podcast is the meat itself. Moist, succulent, tender, all those words that overgrown children playing at “adulting” claim to hate because basically it reminds them of swamp-pussy but they don’t want to come out and say it.
Admit it: If you are an adult and you have a problem saying “moist”, it’s because you don’t want to admit to thinking of swamp-pussy. Or swamp-nuts, but swamp-nuts tend to be more damp than moist. Swamp-pussy is moist, like red velvet cake. Swamp-nuts are damp, like a sweaty t-shirt. See? “Moist” and “damp” each have their applications. (TL;DR: Grow up.)
Anyway, the moist, luscious, juicy meat falls apart in your mouth and is smokey and sweet thus not requiring any extra sauce. (I dipped my fries in the extra sauce.)
I think Smoke In The Pit might be GF’s favorite BBQ place, maybe just her go-to, there’s a chance it’s both. She picked me up some BBQ from there before and I neglected to
Oh, god, that sounded lame.
She picked me up some BBQ from there before and I neglected to review it, so I’m trying to correct that now. This is excellent BBQ to which I am doing a disservice. I should be writing this closer to meal time so the impression is still fresh on my palette, I should have taken my own pic, all that. Alas, I fucked up. But it’s fantastic barbecue and you should give them your money. That pic up there? Yeah, they give you way more fries than that and they’re super nice, too.
Caveat: It’s pick-up only. They do have patio seating in the summer but during winter it’s probably for the best if you call ahead. For a brisket sandwich with fries and slaw and rib tips with fries and baked beans at about seven-ish on a July summer night, we were told the order would be ready in fifteen minutes, your mileage may vary but that sounded like a super reasonable wait time to me.
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