BBQ + Denver = A One Night Stand

The day started out innocently enough. Got up a little after 4 a.m. like I normally do, did some P90X Plyometrics (this is how I can eat massive quantities of food without looking like a water buffalo in high heels), had my special morning smoothie and headed to the office. I’m the picture of health today, I told myself. But then, it happened. The rumble. The hunger rumble. But it’s too early, I told myself. Must ignore. But I couldn’t. So, I had my midmorning snack early – cottage cheese. I mean, if that doesn’t scream “look at me, I swim around in a sea of Muscle Milk nymphs and bodybuilder mermaids,” I don’t know what does.

Unfortunately, that didn’t cut it. Anyone who knows me is aware that when I’m really hungry, I make bad decisions. Case in point: I remembered I had some Boulder Canyon Malt Vinegar and Sea Salt chips leftover from a visit with the intern to the Spicy Pickle on Monday. So I told myself I’d have half of them because it was only 9:30 in the morning. I mean, who eats an entire bag of chips before noon? Well, sweet baby goat cheese, I’m damn good at lying to myself. I know full well that Lays had it right with the slogan “You can’t eat just one,” because I ate the entire bag. And guess what, my potato chip comrades? I was STILL hungry. 

It's "All Natural!" I can't think of a better way to start the day!

So when my boss suggested lunch at *cough, cough* a Denver “BBQ” establishment, I said yes…without hesitation. For shame! I should’ve known that with a name like “Bono’s,” I was in for a world of hurt. We got there and something was wrong immediately: it was too clean. Like “normal” restaurant clean. So clean in fact, that I was wearing a white shirt and didn’t get a drop of BBQ sauce on me – not one. And mind you, I’m the type of person who could be at a tea party with the Royals and somehow get crumpet crumbs in my thong line. Real BBQ restaurants make you feel like you need to bathe in Clorox…and you actually WANT to because you’re covered in sauce and it’s so worth it. Not here. But I let it slide.

On to the menu. Too many options. And there was a salad section. Like, entrée salads people! Um, if you’re going to a BBQ restaurant and want a salad, someone needs to nun chuck your ass…immediately. It’s a mockery of the BBQ culture. And I’m pretty sure you wear tighty-whities, lame sauce. The only salads a BBQ place should offer are mayonnaise-laden – hence, potato salad or coleslaw. And they’re sides, not entrees. Put that in your smoker and…smoke it.

I didn't even take a picture of the salad section...too embarrassing.

So, I didn’t order an f-ing salad. I instead got the two-meat special, which included pork and beef, plus two sides (sweet potato fries and beans for me – you’re welcome, my fellow coworkers who share a very small space with me). Oh, and a massive buttered slice of Texas Toast…wait, what? Yes, Texas Toast. Seriously folks, plain white Wonder Bread is all you need. It shouldn’t be extra thick, buttered and toasted – that robs the bread of its important purpose – to soak up the meat juices and sauce. Texas Toast is a waste of valuable stomach space. I mean, Jesus, not everything needs to be big in Texas. Get over yourself, big state with its own electrical grid (note: I have many friends from Texas – I hate you now…*winky face*).

Get off of the REAL food, Texas Toast. What a bully.

The meal was decent…once you drenched it in some sauce. But not just any sauce. They have four of them because just like the menu, they feel like more is better. Dislike. The best one is an attempt at KC Masterpiece. The worst is the “original” which tastes like someone took a bottle of mustard and threw in some spice rub mixed with moth balls from grandma’s closet. Hey, would you like fries with your mustard mothball meatpile?

Second from the right. Avoid at all costs. Don't even try it on a dare.

Man, I sound like a hater. Not at all. Just a snob, which is way better. Look, Denver BBQ is passable. But if you decide to come to Denver, don’t spend your precious “dolla-dolla billz, yo” at any of the BBQ places. The joints truly worth the a-hole claymore attack you’ll have on your porcelain friend are the Mexican places. You can put that in your smoker…and eat it. Fist pump! I’m out.