Parkin Lot Pork

White's
Eastland Avenue, behind the Eckerds, in a gas station parking lot
Nashville, Tennessee

To say that White's is in a gas station parking lot isn't exactly fair. Knowing what I know about what comes out of the kitchen there, I'm going to go on record and say that the gas station is actually in White's lot. What I mean to say is, you can get gas damn near anywhere, but for the best ribs I know of in Music City, White's is where it's at.

Ironically, White's marks a shift on the tour from white-folks barbecue to black-folks barbecue. The main difference I see is in the sides. Here you can get a little side of spaghetti with your Q, as I've noticed at black-owned fish joints in town, and the ubiquitous white bread, no butter. A few pickle slices. I got potato salad, but I could kick myself for not trying the spaghetti. The potato salad was good, but nothing special.

Few foods can equal ribs for sheer carnivorous pleasure. Sawed off bones that can only be eaten in any kind of reasonable manner with the hands, using your teeth the way God intended without the degradation of man-made utensils. At White's the ribs are a huge dinosaur bone and muscle mosaic slow smoked and slathered in sweet and spicy sauce.

The best way for me to say how much I enjoyed these ribs is to say that I nearly cheated, but couldn't go through with it. I had a friend with me, and was going to just shoot a couple pictures, take a couple bites, and pretty much let him have the lion's share. Well, even having eaten pork barbecue pretty much two meals a day for a week now, I was in there piling up bones til there was nothing left to chew. I don't know if that says more about me or these ribs, but I do know I'm glad I own property within walking distance of this place. I'll be back.