Rack of Ribs

The barbeque at Rendezvous, Memphis, Tennessee, is the meal I would beg for as my last request on death row. 

The savory dry rub rack of ribs is so indescribable, I can only give extreme metaphors to replicate its pleasure. The meal is similar to that of birthing a child, winning every state lottery, and electrically stimulating the dopamine glands in one’s brain to feel maximum pleasure. 

Juicy sauce and coleslaw served with sweet tea represent the divine southern craft of meat manipulation, refined for generations and more secretive than Pentagon documents. To say you have not lived until you try this cascade of BBQ is an understatement; you have not died until this meal slaughters your taste buds, violates your soul and resurrects your very mind with its powerful aroma. 

I must apologize for any mistakes in this piece, I’m salivating too hard on my keyboard.