There is an Island off the coast of the Carolinas whose inhabbitants are known to make the best BBQ sauce. It is an isolated black community that would periodicly come to festivals in the South in order to ruin BBQ for anyone lucky enough to try it. They sold their ribs in plastic ziplock bags which became inevitably smeared with the unearthly brown sauce that coated the bones and meat. These people would inevitably retreat back to their island and withen days the only evidence of their existance would be the scattered bags and bare white bones; both suspiciosly missing the red sauce that once stained them.
This childhood memory remained unshakable untill yesterday, when Everett & Jones BBQ in Berkley forced itself in its place. I now do not remeber the paticulars of that summer day, becuase the barbeque I had yesterday was too similar. I cannot distinguish my memory of the sweet/spicy sauce that I ate one decade ago, from the similar tasting sauce I had yesterday. Except for the missing plastic bags, I am affraid that in another ten years these two experiances will be lumped together. Go to Berkley, order the fallapart ribs with the spicy sweet sauce, and tell them I hate them.