The (bigger) little town next to us in which we conduct most of our daily business (except work) had their third national BBQ competition thing. I was anticipating another full Saturday at home, but plans changed, events transpired and we decided to traipse to the park for some good ol’ BBQ.
The place was hopping. Let me tell ya’, Kansans or Americans or people in general love their meat slow cooked over an open flame with a drizzle of that sticky sauce. (If I were an evolutionist, I would insert some comment about primordial men or something here, but I’m not, so I won’t.)
It is so handy to have connections in places like this. My hardworking daddy is the guy who often keeps events running at these things in this town since he is the head parks guy. We show up, and he already had our sampling plates in hand. I say this is handy because not long after we arrived, all the plates were sold out. We would have been hot and sweaty, unhappy and disappointed campers.
So we walked throughout the tents, with the powerful aroma of BBQ wafting amongst us. (Yeah, I felt like going all fancy on that sentence.) Translation: It smelt guUUUuuuud. Each plate was only allowed to sample four, so we devised a system of having one person get a sample and everyone trying it out. If it passed muster, someone else might get it, but if it didn’t, we moved on. Glory got all brave and everything and always asked the server for extra since she was sharing. And who’s going to say “no” to a teenage girl?
Oh, and my cousin Andy met up with us there. Great to catch up in the park over good food. I say the adventure was a success!