Knee Deep in BBQ Sauce

Okay -- another lesson learned -- apparently barbecue has a meaning entirely different from what we (in the north) are accustomed to. Down here, it means something akin to pulled pork -- something with a slightly vinegary sauce out of which you can make sandwiches:

Think sloppy joes.
What I was raised to think of as barbecue is (I guess) more accurately described as ribs:

Yummy.
And this weekend, some local group is doing something called Ribfest. They do it every Fathers Day weekend -- in a parking lot -- downtown. PIC went there for lunch on Thursday -- we went back Friday after work. It was expensive to get in ($8 each -- a little astounding seeing as Reynolda House was only $10 AND you got a free audio guided tour -- but what the hey?), and small, but there was music and crowds and food.
I guess the way it works is that various barbecue companies will make "the circuit" and travel from ribfest to ribfest throughout the region hawking their wares and generally making people happy.



It was interesting to note upon perusing the signage of each mobile establishment that the furthest north they go in the continental U.S. is Ohio -- then they hop up to Ontario. No wonder I'm so barbecue ignorant.
Anyway, utilizing that degree I have in Mass Communication, we determined the best place to get our ribs from was the one with the longest line (I know -- 8 years of college for that -- but it pays off in other ways too).
So we settled on North Carolina Rib King.
Upon standing in line ourselves (thereby perpetuating the masses thing) and perusing the menu/billboard, we determined we were going to get the "King Feast" something something:



I know it looks huge. And it was! But we split it! Give me a break.
The beverages-in-tin cans came courtesy of Hillbilly Bob's (I'd add a link, but couldn't find one within the 10 second time limit I allow myself for these things) -- the tin cans being a really expensive gimmick that EVERYONE was buying into. Okay, I admit, I'm not immune to peer pressure. And refills were moderately less expensive. The tin cans themselves are now in our kitchen -- they're going to become our porch-beverage-container-of-choice for the rest of the summer (which, I know, hasn't technically even started yet -- yeesh).
Sating ourselves, we walked around a little more (not a lot of walking, mind you, remember, this is in a parking lot) we opted NOT to parake in the roasted corn on the cob, I was still a little full. But we did get a pic of another first for me:

A vat of melted butter into which the cob is dipped before being handed over to the customer.
Now, I love corn on the cob as much as the next person. But remember, I grew up in the north where it's a summer delicacy and drowning it in butter is practically a cardinal sin.
Anyway. I'm not ruling it out.
Another first:

A mister!
Next to central air conditioning, this is my new favorite invention. Some people want a fancy car, others want a big house. I want one of these. On wheels. I want PIC to follow me around with it from June to September (maybe October if it stays this warm).