I’m a full-on foodie, baby. I’ll eat anything from a gas station taco to a Michelin star amuse-bouche like I’m auditioning for a Food Network show. I love mom-and-pop spots, and I love the pretentious places where the menu is just three ingredients and a mood board. Every time I drive to visit Stephen, I make it my mission to hit a new restaurant like it’s a spiritual pilgrimage. Rarely do I go back to the same spot — unless the food is so good it makes me speak in tongues.
This particular time my soul was screaming for barbecue. And of course, if I’m having red meat, I’m getting red wine. Cabernet Sauvignon if I’m feeling respectable. Pinot Noir if I’m feeling like my inner slut needs grapes. (Pinot is my first love, but Cab is my side piece.)
So I roll up to this BBQ place that looks like it got lost on the set of a Hallmark movie — big red barn exterior, cutesy fake flowers, TVs screaming sports ball, and the faint smell of regret and hickory smoke. It’s adorable. The kind of place you expect your ex’s grandma to be working at, judging your outfit but still refilling your sweet tea.
I order biscuit (not my dog), beans, cornbread, and of course a baked potato the size of my emotional baggage. (Listen, I don’t know why baked potatoes own my soul, but they do. Judge me, I dare you.)
Now, let’s talk about the meat. It was… okay. A little bland, a little stiff — like an awkward first date that looks good on paper. But I’m Korean, baby. We don’t just eat food; we slap it with spice and make it confess its sins. So I baptized that meat in hot BBQ sauce until it started speaking fluent Seoul. Then it became delicious. The baked potato? A moist, fluffy miracle covered in butter, sour cream, and green onions. The cornbread? Meh. The beans? Oh honey. Those beans were a war crime.
Overall: 3 out of 5 stars. Loved the mom-and-pop vibe, loved my glass of wine, loved the potato, loved the sauce. But those beans can burn in hell’s crockpot. Would I come back? Absolutely. Just not for the beans — or maybe to throw the beans at somebody.
So there’s my restaurant review. Because whether I’m critiquing BBQ or bad theology, I’m always honest. And just remember, my Lovers — whether you love me or love to hate me, you’re still my Lovers. And Jesus loves you… and so do I.
