Bay Area Ribs, LLC

M. and I are mourning the end of Jimmy’s Rib Shack. We went there on a whim a while ago, even though (or maybe because) it looked totally seedy and is in the bad part of town. Jimmy, this retired-truck-driver guy from Louisiana (I think), made us the best pulled-pork sandwiches we ever had. The secret ingredient? Love. The place was a bonafied dive with lots of charm. On the wall was this cool painting of two dudes in the parking lot of Jimmy’s laughing and eating ribs. It had photos up of Negro League teams. Etc. But when we showed up on Saturday, Jimmy was gone and a new, beady-eyed money grubber had taken over the place. It was like buying ribs from a used car salesman. The best was when someone asked if they could substitute cobbler for a side, and he said “Of course! I always say, money talks.” Translation: Nope, it’s extra but I want you to think it's not until it's too late and you've already ordered. Two days later, just when I thought I was ready to move on, I pulled out the receipt from lunch to record it in my register and saw listed at the top “Bay Area Ribs, LLC.” Don’t advertise a BBQ joint as an LLC! Stupid yuppie. I hate him.