So there's a shack in a parking lot in a shady part of Atlanta (like, Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd.) called Daddy D'z BBQ Joynt. Honestly, it looks so sketchy Mike and I didn't want to go in at first.
But we are sooooo glad we did.
This place is a total dive. The floors are uneven, the booths are ancient, the walls are covered in patchy murals of blues albulm covers, and the food is served on styrofoam plates.
But who the hell cares, because the food is insanely good. Mike got the sampler platter, which had spare ribs, beef and pork barbeque and these little barbeque eggroll thingys (chinese meets southern que equals awesomeness). Every single bite was the best bite of barbeque Mike had ever had. (Mike says, "I'm sorry Benny's") The baked beans were sweet and chewy and perfect. The corn bread had at least five pounds of butter in each slice (move over Paula Dean). I had the "famous" sliced smoked turkey with the sweet sauce. If I could eat that every day of my life I would be fat, but happy. You could totally taste the smoke! Oh, and the mac and cheese? I have no idea what they put in that -- probably something illegal, because I've wanted more ever since.
If you go to Atlanta, let Tom Tom take you through the ghetto to Daddy D'z, because even the Food Network got out of the car fearlessly and gave them a best-of award.
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