People have suggested before that maybe I was too into eating, or trying new restaurants. You know who you are. Or they know who they are. Those people are straight up haterz, and haterz gonna hate. F ’em, that’s what I say. It’s all part of the game. So when I had to go down the NC for a little reconnaisance all by myself, you know what I did? I had my business meeting, cut it short a little early, and got the hell on the road to hit North Carolina’s Best Barbeque before speeding back to the airport for my flight. And on the way, I took a sweet picture of a Confederate flag, in my rear-view while going full speed. That’s how I roll. I wasn’t drunk y’all.
So the town of Lexington has its own style of barbeque – shoulders only, no sauce, just put ’em on open pits for 8 hours and then chop ’em. Get a rough chop or a fine chop. Get some ‘brown’ (not a heroin or sex reference, just the bark where the outside of the meat is crisped. As a further digression, who the hell wouldn’t want that?). I read that Lexington #1 was the place to go; owned by Wayne Monk, it’s also referred to as ‘Honeymonk’s’. When I rolled up and saw all the carloads of well-fed burghers rolling in and out, I just hoped I wouldn’t have to wait in line. It was OK since I sat at the counter. I think I talked to Wayne down at the end. He was super-nice, especially on the service. I’ve got a story fer y’all that you’ll see at the end.
For once, a semi-reasonable portion of food. This is a coarse chop with brown. I was a little worried ordering that, because to me it seems like the one true path to ordering here, and I assume that everyone else would see the wisdom of that, so the fixin’s for this particular variant would run out before other lesser dishes’. But it was OK.
Can I just say, great barbeque? You really get to taste the meat. If you’re eating barbeque because the sauce is tasty, I’ve got some barbeque potato chips right over here. Y’all oughta taste the meat. People talk about the ‘God-given sweetness of pork,’ and on this day I could agree with them. I could even agree enough to capitalize god for a change – a rarity. The sauce is a light, vinegarry, not-too-sweet variant – not what I was expecting in NC, but then it seems that NC is too multi-regionate for a lowly aspirant like me ever to understand in much fullness. Too bad.
The slaw is neat too – fine chop, then mixed with the same sauce to moisten it. Keeps the whole thing lighter and more refreshinger.
Yo, hush puppies? Shut up! God, this is why I’ve gained 30 pounds since I moved back to this damn country. Straight out of the fryer, these were incredibly light and airy. “Almost ethereal”, to coin a phrase. Left to cool, they got more stodgy and normal. If you were to take them home in a bag, y’all would be missing the point for sure, and that would be a sure ’nuff shame.
Was I saying something about gaining weight? I saw some review talking about how great the peach cobbler was, and I’m not gonna resist an awesome homemade fruit dessert. Wait, those are canned peaches? Honeymonk, you done tricked me, and nobody tricks this ‘ol boy twice. If I’m ever back at #1, I’m ordering extra brown and not wasting my time on canned peaches heated up with low-grade ice cream. There’s more important stuff to spend your calories on.
So you know what else I spent my calories on? Takeout. It’s on the menu, “Take a pound home to the wife!” I did. They were awful nice about it – packed up a ziplock with a pound of fine chop mixed with sauce, then packed that bag in a larger ziplock filled with ice. I done drove it down to the airport at some speed, then emptied out the ice (because the security guards would think it was a deadly water bomb) and went off to check in. I watched the bag with the chilled ‘que go through, and I watched the guard get confused and a little agitated. I saw her call her supervisor. They discussed for what seemed like an itinerary. Finally I took the bull in my own hands, leaned over the belt, and said “Can I help you identify that item?” “Why thank you,” they said, “Is it an ice pack?” “No,” says I, “It’s Lexington Barbeque.” “Barbeque?! Well you go right on through then!”
True story. No, really, true story. I wouldn’t lie to you about something like national security. Or ‘que.
Hwy 29-70 South, Lexington
(704) 249-9814
May? Sheesh. What I get for dropping your RSS feed. Anyway, welcome back!