where's my bobbecue chicken?

Long ago, in a galaxy far far away known as Appalachia (pronounced 'apple-atcha', thankyouverymuch), the phone rang at 2am in my first apartment after moving out on my own. I struggled up from the abyss of sleep, and answered groggily. On the other end, an irate woman screamed into the phone, "WHEAH'S MAH BOBBECUE CHICKEN?!? I ODAH'ED THAT BOBBECUE CHICKEN A OWAH AGO!!!"

I hung up on her without saying anything (it was all I could think of at 2am), but that line has stuck with me in the mumblety-nine years since.

I was reminded of it last night, when we decided to try out Red Hill Bobbecue Barbecue out in Rancho Cucamonga. We've driven past it at various times -- most notably on the way to Vince's (for which I have a very spongy soft spot), and we've always meant to try it. K. was working from home, so, hey, why not?

Now I know why not: It's just not very good. Well, the meat is good -- very well smoked. But the sauce, which they ladle over your food by the pint, is awful stuff: sticky, sweet, and artificially thickened.

K. decided to get the Carnivore Carnival, or whatever they called the sampler. It consisted of meat, meat, and more meat (specifically: pork ribs, beef ribs, brisket, chicken, ham, and two hot links) shoveled into a large styrofoam box and then drowned in sauce.

I got the rib tips, which received the same treatment. Both of our styrofoam boxes were bulging so dangerously that they were (only barely) held shut with toothpick. K.'s weighed about four pounds; mine was only three.

For sides, I got the cole slaw and the mac&cheese, because they were out of collards (my favorite!). The cole slaw was fine, the mac&cheese was mediocre. Both were pretty soupy. K. said the potato salad was pretty good, but I didn't get a verdict on his baked beans.

We ended up taking the rest of our dinners home. K. will be nibbling on his for the next week, whereas I'll be feeding cats with mine. Voiceover has quite a sweet tooth, and he loved the combination of sugar and smoke and beef. I'll give him some bits as a treat and put the rest out for the neighborhood felines (most of whom live outside and eat nothing but kibble). The couple (of ribs, not cats) I tossed onto the driveway were gone in minutes.

I have left strict instructions with the cats, however, that if they're looking for bobbecue chicken, don't. call. me.