Dear Smoky Jon,
I have sinned and am writing to beg for your forgiveness. You see, I ate at another barbecue joint this evening and I feel the need to repent. I transgressed partly from my own weakness and partly from being a victim of coycimstances. I was out on the west side because I had a meeting over on that side of town at 7. I had time to blow and then I felt the hunger pangs - I wanted BBQ. But you were over on the opposite end of town and I didn't want to drive there and then back. I didn't want to use the gas and emit more exhaust fumes than I had to. So I did it for the environment, I swear. My transgression was eating at a chain BBQ place which I shall not name. (But it's right by West Towne Mall.) I sat down and ordered as my tummy was making odd noises. When the food arrived, it looked alright, "looked" being the operative word here. The ribs were...they were dry and tough. Not like yours which are always tender and falling off the bone. Like you, they smoke their ribs. But unlike yours, their smoke flavor ran contrary to the flavor of the meat, not complementary to it. They had BBQ sauce at the table but the red stuff was horrible. It tasted like ketchup with corn syrup and Liquid Smoke added to it. Yours is so good with those finely diced bits of onion floating in a spicy sea of goodness. They were St. Louis style ribs and I know I should have been weary of food from the city which makes the crappiest beer ever known to man. To make matters worse, I asked for hot sauce and they gave me this supposedly hot habanero stuff but it turned out to be girlie hot sauce that barely registered on my tongue.
I see now that you are my BBQ shepherd and that I am a member of your flock that has strayed. But I have returned! Can you, in your amazing grace, forgive a wretch like me?
Your humble patron