This year was no different. Forced to evacuate from our beach house in the Outer Banks because of hurricane Earl, we headed West for the night and found a cheap motel in Wilson, North Carolina. Ever been? Didn't think so. Wondering where Wilson is? Well it's 30 minutes north of the world's biggest pork supply. So now you know where I'm talking about right?
So 200 miles inland we were officially in the deep South. And I can't go through the deep South without eating some southern cookin' on account of my ruts (roots) not to be confused with my rats (rights) which is what the South was fightin' fur during the war.
Didn't have to look too hard to find some real North Carolina barbeque.
Behold, "Bill's Barbecue, Buffet and Convention Center." Um, yeah this'll do.
My in-laws are fancier than me. But I was so excited about eating that I forgot that a place that looks like this makes fancy people nervous.
A picture of two cousins. Happy little clams. It's hard to see, but they came to the table from the buffet wearing rubber gloves that they'd found. I didn't worry, or ask any questions. Too busy eating.
I got my plate of food and started scarffing. My brother in-law brought over a "dare plate," full of food that he didn't recognize. The contents of the dare plate were identical to mine.
Recognize any of this stuff?
How 'bout this?
At one point someone commented that their physical health was probably safer in the middle of the hurricane than at Bill's bbq.
I couldn't disagree.
But I kept on a eatin'.
And I learnt a valuable lesson. It's much tougher to be sneaky about taking candid pictures with a fancy DSLR camera. But I managed to do it. And boy am I glad I did.
We're back in the Outer Banks, safe and sound. And all fatter and wiser thanks to Earl.