I admit that I may not be fully qualified to give Little Miss BBQ of Phoenix, AZ the “Best BBQ In The World” award… since I haven’t technically tried every barbecue joint on earth.
But whatever! It’s delicious, and hyperbolic word usage is more likely to get clicked on—you ended up here after all, right?
I mean, would you have really given my article a chance if it was titled:
“BBQ That I Think Is Really Good… Even Though My BBQ Critiquing Knowledge Is Purely Anecdotal”
Didn’t think so…
Anyway… let’s get to it!
Here is the breakdown of the day that changed my taste bud’s lives forever.
9:00 am –My girlfriend wakes me up saying that we have to get BBQ for lunch, I agree, roll back over, and fall quickly back into my dream about Michael Pollan replying to one of my tweets.
9:01 am –My girlfriend informs me that the place is a half hour away and they sell out everyday, so we have to go now. I assume this is BBQ-craving-induced insanity, but am too tired to argue.
9:21 am –Were on the road bound for Little Miss BBQ.
10:03 am –As we get close, we pass by some sort of music venue. We assume Flipsyde or Tech Nine must be playing a show that night… I mean, why else would people be lined up out the door at 10am on a Wednesday.
10:04 am –My Google machine informs us to make a U-turn, and we confusingly find ourselves outside the building where we saw the line of people. We then notice that the parking lot is surrounded by pallets of wood… and the air lingers with the powerful aroma of charred meat.
10:07 am –We take our spot at the back of the not-FlipSyde-fans-line and wait patiently, taunted by the mouth-watering smells and the theatrics of the massive smokers.
10:28 am –Kelsey scolds me for drooling on my shirt.
11:00 am –The doors open, and the line starts filing through the small building.
11:17 am –BATTER UP.
I go for the brisket.
“Lean or fatty?” he asks…
Kelsey goes for the T-rex sized beef rib, and we both get a few piles of sides.
11:19 am –We scurry to the outdoor picnic tables and start digging in like savages.
Silverware, manners, and the thought of photographic documentation , are completely neglected (I had to go back to get pictures).
There’s sauce on the table, but we don’t even touch it –the powerful aromas and flavor of the meat need no help.
And while the flavors were on fleek (Does that work there? My little cousin says I need to use cooler intensifiers)… it’s the texture that steals the show: unbelievably tender.
And I mean that literally… I COULD NOT BELIEVE* meat could have that sort of melt-in-your-mouth consistency.
Honestly, A toothless infant would have had no problem taking it down.
*I have gone back multiple times, and I now believe.
11:20 am –I find myself lost in a nearly meditative state of food-induced-euphoria.
Now for those of you who follow my writing, I know that I use hyperbolic language… often.
And to be fair, I do rant about how delicious food is on a regular basis…
But to be perfectly clear:
That fatty brisket is quite possibly the best thing that I have ever had the privilege of eating.
With that being said… If you are a train, bus, car, or plane ride away from Phoenix –I highly recommend you do whatever it takes to treat yourself to the culinary magic that goes on at this spot–as soon as physically possible.
Keep in mind though, I’m not joking about the line, get there at least a half hour before the doors open.