Mendacious D. brings it. I would add some crazy Canadian was talking up Slimz or some such place as a rival to this one, but we know nothing, you decide.
What I will decide is that if we can accomadate Gregor and our various vegetarians, when 3B wins the lottery, our convention committee will consider this as a possible site. It goes without saying that anyone that could get there, it would be our treat.
I would add I just had a wonderful night with some friends at a very mediocre BBQ place. The University of Suck and its environs knows not the ways. So unfortunately I am harbo(u)ring a burning jealousy of Mendacious D and his laden platters of meat doncha know.
Here’s the scoop:
Nestled at just off the corner of Granville and Broadway, arguably one of the most hellish and garment-rending of intersections in Vancouver, lies a Mecca of meat: the Memphis Blues. Savvy Vancouverites know there are two of them in the city, but this is the original. Its descendant lies in wait on Commercial Drive, better known as hippy central, seemingly mocking the puritanical preachings of vegeterianism’s most ardent supporters. This is better put in context when you see a vegetarian or two wander in unawares, to look at the menu and cringe. More than once, I have witnessed fleeing non-customers being yelled at by the manager as they scamper away to Earl’s or some other, lesser, restaurant.
Actual quote: “What? We’ve got salads.”
This is technically true, even though most of the salads involve pulled pork. Their tshirt collection says it all: “We pull pork,” “Best rack in town,” and so on. They are proud of the carnivorous urges which draw us there, having an open kitchen where all can gaze lovingly as they slow-cook ribs and briskets, lathering them in sauce and arranging them with cornbread, chili, chips, wings, and all manner of artery-clogging goodness.
But all this pales in comparison to the Memphis Blues’ magnum opus: the Elvis Platter.
Imagine a large number of different kinds of meat. Now add several more you didn’t think of, like pheasant (but no emu, as yet). The last time I counted, this masterwork included jerk chicken, chicken wings, pulled pork, brisket, short ribs, long ribs, and the aforementioned pheasant. Add slaw, cornbread, chips, and a large dollop of barbeque sauce. Feeds four. For two to three days. You get a stack of napkins several inches high. I don’t need to fill you in on how this works. It is a carnivorous feast worthy of The King of Rock’n'Roll himself.
Add their selection of bottled beers (almost all Czech), the perenially crowded standing-room-only atmosphere, and the posters and photos of blues artists and slow-smokers (one of which I swear was salvaged from a jet turbine), and you have yourself one hell of a restaurant.
Verdict: Eleven out of one. Deeeeeelicious.”