dixie's

man, oh man.
i went to this place in bellevue for lunch today with irene (my coworker) and my grandpa.
it's called Dixie's BBQ.
you take the first 520 exit past 405 heading toward redmond. you take a right and just before you'd drive under the 405 underpass, you'll see it.
we'll actually you might miss it because the buildings back actually touches the freeway bridge. you'll probably see Pioneer tiling instead. its just after that.

anyway. this place was damn tasty.
we go in and irene warns us.
before we go into the area that we order, you must know what you want.
there's this woman that's rather large (actually imagine a person that could add no more fat to their body and still be able to walk) who will take no crap.
she has a very short fuse.
you place your order and side-step to the left.
much like seinfeld's soup nazi.
but just as in the show, it's damn worth it.

i got BBQ pork on a hot link.
hot link being a good hot dog. (usually i'm not that fond of hot dogs.)
but this shit was mighty tasty.
it was all about the BBQ sauce. they must be decendants of Stubb's or something.

so you get your meal, and then the owner comes around to greet everyone.
he's a very friendly black guy probably in his late 60's who goes around asking if you've "met the Man".

he's very pushy about meeting the man, but somehow his southern demeanor doesn't make it seem so agressive at all.
he kinda reminds me of that dad from the movie "Friday"...
"don't go in there for another 35, 45 minute,"
but with more of a southern talk.

he kept calling irene "baby girl" and grandpa "daddio".
irene's been there before, so she was safe when it came to "meeting the Man".
but grandpa (who despises anything spicy) and i weren't so lucky.

the owner comes out with his tiny skillet of deep-red BBQ sauce.
he goes, "how much you want?"
i say i'll take one.
so he gets his spoon that's in the skillet and dabs just the smallest amount on my hotdog bun.
he goes to g-pa, "you know him? well, take your fork and touch it on there."
so grandpa does it, and at first acts like its nothing.
THEN you see the shock, "JESUS CHRIST," he lets out.
so i think it's my turn then.

i take my fork and do the same, dab it.
i got some seeds in there with that dab. shit.
i take it to my tongue.
it tastes like that burnt chipotle taste, and then after a couple seconds it kicks in.
JESUS CHRIST is right!

i guess the secret ingredient are the habaneros.
awesome.
at the time i was about half way through my BBQ pork.
i had to quit there for about 10 minutes because every subsequent bite would only perturb the heat on my tongue.
neither water nor salty peanuts helped.
my eyes and nose started to water, and i think some got on the napkin that made my right eye sting.
even better.

once we had settled down a bit, he had us get up and put a pin into a map of the world from where we were born. he's got half a dozen maps up there with needles covering almost every damn inch of a lot of them.

next came the fun part, where you got to see other people come in and be subjected to the same treatment that we received.
g-pa was a good sport about it.
i guess he took it as something that spiced up his life a bit that wasn't tv.

on the ride home, my tongue had won the battle but my lips were still slightly burning.

i recommend this place to everyone.
it's a large helping of tasty meat, and you definitely get your money's worth.
check it out sometime.
go meet the man.