The Mistah and I began our marriage with different ideas about barbecue. He was a die hard fan of Carolina style barbecue. Only a biting, vinegary ‘que would do for him. That’s what he knew. That’s what he loved. Me, I abhorred the very idea of barbecue. I blame it on the memories of too many chicken dinners that were drowned in Kraft Barbecue sauce. Consider the fact that those bad barbecue memories are from the same period of time that was filled with strife and struggle, and it’s a wonder that I ever willingly gave barbecue a try as an adult. Continue reading “Amen”
Bon Appetit Hon 