Return To The Mothership


We went back to see the Knucklehead at Mothership BBQ for lunch today.  I was not disappointed.  The pork was succulent and tasty, like Knuck said it would be.  I had a funny epiphany once I left Berry Hill.  Knuck uses a vinegar-based sauce.  Normally, I don’t like vinegar-based sauces.  They are, well, too vinegary.  I’m more of a fan of the tomato-based sauces.  In my family, it is usually Sweet Baby Ray’s or nothing. 

Knuck’s sauce however is different.  I think I have it figured out.  It doesn’t smother the meat flavor.  The thing about most tomato-based BBQ sauces is that eating styrofoam is acceptable with enough sauce ladled on top.  Knuck’s sauce complements the meat flavor.  It doesn’t compete with the pork.   That is huge.  That is like, I dunno…finding out crack cures cancer, or something.  Whatever it is, it tastes damn good.

In honor of Knuck and his sauce.  Let me offer an anecdote that is reminiscent of one of his.

Back in the day, I used to manage a Chinese restaurant in the Rivergate area.  It was a new concept from the folks who brought you Red Lobster and Olive Garden.  It was to Chinese food as Olive Garden is to Italian.  Draw your own conclusions. 

One afternoon, a server came to me and complained about some loud jerks in her section.  I went back to see what was up with these boorish customers.  Sitting in the booth by the bathroom, was the band Blind Melon. This is sometime in 1995.  They are about two years after No Rain peaked on the charts.   They were not yet aware of their one-hit wonder status.   The money hadn’t run out at that point, so they were drunker than a sack of assholes.  In fact, the word "asshole" came to mind several times in my dealings with them. 

They complained about everything;  the food, the drinks, the service, the brown M&Ms.  Typical rock star behavior.  Well, typical for rock stars with more than one Top Twenty single under their belts.  I jumped through a bunch of hoops to placate them, until I realized that they were a)never going to come back; and b)were washed up losers.

After I took care of everything and dropped the check, I looked the most fucked up and obnoxious member of the group in the eye and said, "I really appreciate you gentlemen coming in today.  I like your music.  I especially like that Bee Girl."

Well, you would have thought I said, "You are a washed-up, has-been junkie.  See you at the state fair next year."   Which, I guess is what he heard.

"Fuck you, man! Fuck you!  We are more than just that fucking Bee Girl!  This is bullshit, man!"

I chuckled at the thought of the opinion of a totally unhip manager of a mediocre chain restaurant having an opinion that could kill his coke and booze-fueled fun.  I picked up the credit card from the road manager or some other flunky, and said in my most pity-exuding, condescending voice, "I’m sure you were." 

He then threw a drunken tantrum and knocked some glasses over on the table.  A few months later Mr. Drunken Tantrum was dead

The moral of the story is, Eat at Mothership BBQ. 

Or else.


One Response to “Return To The Mothership”

  1. Katherine Coble Says:

    OMG! You killed the Blind Melon dude!!!!Your sarcasm is lethal.

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