At Buzz BBQ, our pork ribs looked like beef and our beef was chopped like pork and our roll was stale and the sauce(s) dreadfully commercial and the whole shebang so smoky after six hours and we still couldn’t get the smell off our lips.
Oh yeah, and those ribs were so tender (and completely separated from the bone) they could’ve been baby food — a sure sign of steaming or par-boiling.
For the privilege of enduring these affronts to our aficionado-ness, we drove to the ends of the earth on West Trop and paid $22.
Just thought you’d like to know.
Somewhere on West Tropicana