The South in Your Mouth


Well my home’s in the delta, Way out on that farmer’s road. Now you know I’m living in Chicago, And people, I sure do hate to go. -Muddy Waters, My Home is in the Delta That lyric from Waters is a bit of an idle threat. It was recorded in 1963 at Chicago’s Tel Mar recording studios for one of the greatest records of all time, “Folksinger”. But, Muddy stayed in Chicagoland, dying in his Westmont, Illinois home in 1983.

Myron Mixon’s Smoke & Mirrors Show


If Jesus smoked a perfect brisket and followed that up by walking on water, he’d still have a lot of catching up to do to achieve the deity status of Myron Mixon. You see, Mixon is the Michael Jordan of barbecue. To be fair, Michael Jordan is more like the Myron Mixon of basketball. Jordan only won six NBA championships. Mixon has won over 200 grand championships in barbecue

Dinosaur BBQ


If you told me an East Coast barbecue joint with eight other locations was opening a monstrous 12,000-square-foot restaurant in the booty-shaking vortex that is Weed Street, I would have said, uh, yeah, that’s probably not gonna be serious. But Dinosaur Bar-B-Que, which has set up shop steps from sports/country/let’s-get-wasted bar Joe’s and gentlemen’s club VIP’s, is no flash in the pan

Smoque BBQ Brisket


You could say that Smoque, an Irving Park barbecue restaurant that’s one of Chicago’s best, all started with a very large Texan.

Where There’s Smoke


If you’ve ever smoked a perfect rack of ribs, it’s easy to understand how a thousand barbecue joints have been launched. The beauty of a pink smoke ring and juicy shards of freshly pulled meat inspire a confidence that you were born to bring the gospel of barbecued meat to the masses. But opening a barbecue joint is different from being a confident weekend warrior.