Since my arrival in the Seattle area, many people have asked me if I had met The Man.
“No,” I replied.
“Ahh, but you must,” they said.
Earlier this week, I met The Man.
The Man can be found at Dixie’s BBQ in Bellevue, WA. (and Dixie’s BBQ can be found in an old auto repair shop..)
Entering this shady looking BBQ joint, you initially wonder if you should really be eating here. It doesn’t look very clean. When you get to the serving area, you wonder even more. The food looks shady, the preparation area looks shady, and the staff look shady. There are soup nazi ordering techniques, and if you don’t know what you’re doing, head to the back of the line.
One of my dining companions asked, “Is the man here today?” and was met with silence.
After paying for our lunch, he asked again, “is he here?” The cashier said no at first, but then looked at her son, and told him to grab some guy out of the back to bring out “the sauce,” saying that “he can do it.” Apparently the normal person who can help you meet the man is not there, but there was a stand-in. We sat down at our table.
As I was trying to figure out to eat my sloppy chicken BBQ sandwich, a guy appeared from the back with a small sauce pan. He began walking around the eating area daring people to try his concoction, the “new cranberry recipe,” apparently. My friends flagged him down, and told him I was new. He celebrated my arrival, and dipped a toothpick into the saucepan and handed it to me. My friends said, “JUST TOUCH IT TO YOUR TONGUE, DO NOT PUT THE ENTIRE THING IN YOUR MOUTH.” What?
As my throat closed and my eyes welled up with tears, the only thing I could say was, “Holy shit.” I had met The Man.
And then our host plopped a spoonful of The Man on my sandwich. And then I had the most painful meal of my life. Stunt eating at its best. I don’t know what is in that sauce, but it is pure evil. Rumor has it that the pot that they make The Man in has never been washed, and that it possibly contains some sort of auto shop leftovers, maybe battery acid. Who knows. But my stomach will never be the same.
At 3:45am the next morning, I met the man again.
Meeting the Man
Dixie’s BBQ
Washington