You know who knows everything? Hotel bartenders. Which wine should I drink? Where can I plug in my laptop? Where can I get a massive rack of dry rubbed, falling off the bone tender, finger lickin' ribs? These things and more, they know. That's how we found Central Barbecue. It's unassuming. It almost looks like a mistake and you'll pass it and have to do a weird illegal u-turn through another store's parking lot (they must hate that.) But when you walk in the door- you know you're in the right place. The sweet, saucy, vinegary deliciousness washes over you and before you know it you're ordering a dry rubbed rib rack for two with four sides and 1/2 dozen wings (1/2 wet, 1/2 dry). And a chicken sandwich for your non-meat eating coworker. Bless her heart. And then everyone stares at you while you consume in an unladlylike manner and slurp greedily from your souveneir cup of 1/2 lemonade 1/2 iced tea. No, I will never call that an Arnold Palmer. I just won't.
And you and your dirty orange hands will be happy, forever and ever and ever.