Every once in awhile life reminds me of who I truly am. Like yesterday. It's been a long dreary winter here in the Northeast even if mother nature was very gentle with us. My favorite take out eatery Smoke Daddy's closed permanently and moved operations to Georgia.
But for one weekend only he hitched his monster smoker up and drove back to serve up his barbecue to us salivating hounds in the Philly area. When I got his happy happy email a week ago I started planning what I would order and how I would play with the leftovers.
Apparently a lot of hounds from Lansdale Pa and beyond felt the same way. I left a pot of lemons boiling on the stove when I left the house I was so excited. When my friend and I got there there was a huge line and he was too overwhelmed to take phone orders. Luckily I remembered that I left the stove on. I don't live far away so I quick went home to turn it off, feeling like an idiot.
I was foolish and didn't eat much all day so I would be nice and hungry for the precious offerings. I only live about three miles from the Lansdale Eagles club where Smoke Daddy was holding court, and I've been there many times.
I was so hungry and flustered by then that I forgot how to get there. I had to back track twice.
I wish I was kidding. The line of worshipers was even longer and I heard whispers that SD might be running out of his magic brisket.
I finally got my precious bundle: brisket, pulled pork, and smoked chicken with collards, smashed potatoes and mac and cheese. Because I had to wait so long the food tasted even better if possible, and yes I managed to figure out where I lived without mishap!
I spent the rest of the evening in a contented stupor, feelings of well-being washing over me. I'm going back today, he sold out of pulled chicken and barbecue beans. I cannot believe how crazy happy I feel. I had simply forgotten how much of a chowhound I am. I'm not alone.