The Sargasso Sea of BBQ

I am typing in the car, which might be a mistake, but since have been up late every night writing we figured maybe we would get a jump on it today. So:

Last evening we were saddened to find that our humble abode at the La Quinta had a TV that would not let us play Playstation 2. So we had to resort to watching South Park’s spoof on the World of Warcraft online. The truly sad part of that is that we watched this satirical spoof of the game, and laughed at the incredibly nerdiness of the characters, and yet later would both admit that the show made us want to play the game.

We starting the morning off right. The South has contributed much to this great land: Mark Twain, Eli Whitney, Thomas Jefferson, etc. There has also been a more recent contribution on such a scale: Krispy Kreme Donuts. It was to this Center of Cellulite, this Obelisk of Obesity, that we awoke and resumed our journey.

Back to I-20. Our companion for several hundred miles. Our destination? A place called Pocahontas, Mississippi just north of Jackson. Why Pocahontas you ask? In Pocahontas is a symbol of not only great BBQ, but of our youth. Big D’s Teepee BBQ, an institution for over 25 years, now housed in a giant concrete teepee. A teepee not unlike one situated on the eastern shore of Flathead Lake that always signified that we were near to Yellow Bay, my (Josh) often childhood playground. However, at this teepee I was not anticipating mosquito bites, swimmer’s itch, and broken glass, but rather fine ribs and chopped pork.

Big-D’s is just across the tracks. The teepee stands out from a background of dilapidated shacks. It is good to note that the shack owners retain a sense of humor(see pictures). The entrance to the restaurant is filled with Polaroid photos of those who have come before. The smell of smoke is thick. The proprietor is serving two men on their lunch break. They glance at us and one comments “y’all aren’t from around here, are you.” I can’t imagine what has tipped him off. Could it be my sandals (fake Birkenstocks)? Perhaps Koski’s multiple earrings (I am frantically trying to display my wedding ring everywhere we go)? Perhaps Chris’ Carroll College softball weekend shirt proclaiming the Naturally Selected (Biology (+Chris) team of 2001)? Nope.

“Saw your tags.”

Practical people these folks. But on to the food. We both had the combo plates. I had chopped pork and sausage with potato salad and beans. Koski had ribs and, at the suggestion of the proprietor, pork loin. My sausage was excellent and complemented by the sauce in a bottle at the table. The chopped pork was a bit mushy, but was spiced up by the “Rebel Yell” hot sauce. Oh, and I had a delicious piece of pecan pie. That is “pe-Kahn” pie. Not “pe-Can” pie for you Yankees out there. I asked for “pe-Can” pie and was informed that a “pe-Can” is what poor people use who don’t have a toilet. Remember that. The ribs were VERY meaty and had a nice flavor. The pork loin, true to the recommendation, was the best thing there- juicy and flavorful.

We exchanged a few stories with two nice folks in the dining room who were (at least the gentleman) BBQ fans. His wife stated that she liked BBQ, but ….well, not quite as much as her husband. Such a common sentiment for some reason. We wandered out to take pictures of the local flavor, which was good because we were stuck behind a passing train anyway.

Now we are on the road to Lousisana- Jefferson’s crowning achievement. He would be sad to see that the signs for the LA casinos start several miles from the border. Or perhaps he wouldn’t. After all- as his servant mistress could have attested to- Tommy J loved a good time…

Chris here –
Never felt like a Yankee more than I have today [see quoted conversation below and Josh’s previous post].

This is going to be very short because, frankly, we’ve had a lackluster day. I think today felt somewhat like the book “the phantom tollbooth” [if you have not read this then your elementary school was deficient] – we entered a fanciful land, but had to wade through a large section of the doldrums. Josh got the privilege of writing about the better part of the day (the Teepee in Pocahontas, MS). The road between Tuscaloosa and Shreveport – should you choose to drive it – is almost less interesting than driving from Billings to Lame Deer [however, there are other cars on the road with you here – you will not find other cars on the Northern Cheyenne Indian Reservation]. I will say that the brief period of time we were on the Natchez parkway just outside of Pocahontas was some of the most pleasant scenery on the trip. Like an errant back hair, this was ripped from us when we entered our old albatross, Interstate 20.




We have some pictures of interesting things we saw (like a man whose ceiling in his Buick was falling) or two twenty-something men who were driving a car painted like a bag of skittles. I am not making that up. I guess we did see something significant: the Mississippi River. I can remember each time I’ve crossed it in my life [this is the fourth] and I always reflect upon it. You simply cannot cross this country without going over it; it cuts us in two culturally and represents the older colonies and territories versus the western frontier. So, in reality, our movement is akin to manifest destiny.

So, we are now in Shreveport. Many of you are thinking: what is in Shreveport? The short answer is a Southern version of San Bernardino, CA – i.e. a hole. Part of the problem is Louisiana, with its drive up liquor stores, high poverty rate, inept police, and history of political corruption. Another part of the problem is the presence of a military base – BEFORE SOME OF YOU GO OFF THE HANDLE, understand that the areas proximate to a military base are typically populated with some infamous and nefarious businesses: check-cashing locations, pizza huts, strip clubs, crappy sports bars, used car dealerships, and, in a new wrinkle, bad barbeque places.

As an aside, given Josh and my background in MT, we drove through a neighborhood that took us back to our earlier days. We saw, for the first time in perhaps 10 years, a number of 18-22 year old men with shaved heads and mullets – this look was very common among people we knew back in Kalispell [in fact, we think we have found Dan’s long lost younger siblings…a select few will know who this is and will appreciate it].

It is my sad task to inform you of yet another stinker. Blue Moon BBQ just outside of Barksdale AFB is not worthy of your time. It is the first really bad BBQ we’ve had on the trip…well…this is not entirely true. Their homemade baked beans are really, really good. They have a lot of body, a nice combination of sweet and tangy and are something I would recommend getting if you ever have the bravery to have a picnic in Shreveport. However, absent that, the place is really not worth your time. The brisket is tender, but 100% flavorless. The very friendly and ebullient staff give you many ounces of sauce – and you will need it to moisten the brisket and cut the extremely greasy sausage [which tastes a lot like hillshire farms]. The potato salad is pleasant with mashed potatoes and chunks of them, but don’t drive to Shreveport for them [or anything else, unless you need a check cashed while getting a lap dance from a stripper before blowing your money at a cut-rate casino]. There are some really bad things here:

1. The cole slaw is very heavy and almost wilted – there is also some type of flavor in there that makes it hard to eat too much.


2. The banana pudding is clearly jell-o with some mixed in vanilla wafers. Josh bravely ate all of it.


3. The WORST part of the meal is perhaps some of the worst chicken I have ever eaten in my life. The chicken is smoked and looks like it ought be tasty and even has a bit of a hickory taste to it upon first bite. However, as you chew, you are thinking to yourself whether or not this has actually been cooked. The texture is as close to uncooked chicken as I can imagine – having not eaten much for obvious health reasons. Both Josh and I were so nauseous afterwards that we raced to a Kroger grocery store for some [a lake to ate] apples and bananas.

As if to punctuate our crappy Shreveport experience, we tried our luck at Diamond Jack’s casino. We both played Wheel of Fortune in honor of my Aunt Sherie who tended to have mythic luck…none for us. The scene in the casino was far worse than any I have seen in Reno [a.k.a. the white trash Vegas] and reminded me of a scene in the movie The Adventures of Baron Munchausen where all the heroes are in the belly of a whale playing cards with the Grim Reaper waiting to be taken on.

Also…casinos aren’t a lot of fun when you are married with children.

We tried to mitigate the bad juju from the evening by eating a Krispy Kreme before going to sleep. It helped.

There is something to salvage from today. Perhaps the best part about Louisiana is that its purchase enabled about two-thirds of Montana to become a part of the United States [earlier inhabited by Native Americans who weren’t really using it…].

Quotes from today:

“I don’t eat greens recreationally.” – Owner of Big D’s BBQ.
“Do you want to sit in the Teepee?” – Grown man to another grown man.

“You must of kissed the cook,” said a customer with a NASCAR shirt on to me without actually looking at me.
“Well, I guess my charms worked on him, unlike on you,” said me.
“…” said him.

Tires were not slashed. Yay.