We couldn't believe our luck. Our editor was sitting across the desk
asking us to find the best barbecue and the best music in Memphis. We scooted
out of his office and surreptitiously began planning. It wasn't long before we
had our dream team together: Wanda, an intrepid reporter, known for fine
writing; Annette, an intrepid barbecue eater, known for saucy comebacks;
Richard, a native Memphian, known all over town; and Dana, our incognito
restaurant critic, known for being unknown.
Ribs Run Through It
We set out across miles of twisted two-lane
blacktop for the big river city. Within a few hours, we wound through downtown
streets to find our hideout--the centrally located Peabody hotel. We caught up
with Richard at 6 p.m., while Dana sneaked off to her white-tablecloth dinner
assignments. Trench coats in place, we jaywalked across Union Avenue to a
small alley, staying close to the walls as we approached Rendezvous, Memphis'
most celebrated rib restaurant. We entered the charcoal-scented vestibule, and
Richard, not in disguise, was quickly recognized. Our cover was blown.
Charlie Vergos, a man as rugged and friendly as a plate of ribs, escorted us
to the best table in the house and plied us with towering sampler platters of
his best 'cue. We nibbled lamb riblets, we noshed chicken, we gnawed dry pork
ribs. "Bring us more napkins," we demanded, and the waitstaff scurried to do our
bidding. The beer flowed, the tea poured, our waistbands expanded. We picked at
peppers, we savored slaw and beans, we mopped sauce with bread. Charlie kept
checking on us, shoving more food toward our groaning plates. "Enough," we
finally cried, struggling to stand. "We'll be back again someday." We waddled
out the door and made our way back down the alley, past The Peabody, and
stumbled onto legendary Beale Street.
