The rib sandwich, (not to be confused with McRib) is something of a standard in the world of barbecue. It is not, however, a standard in the world of sandwiches. The reason it is a strange kind of sandwich is because it is not, technically, a sandwich. If you go into any self-respecting BBQ place south of the Mason-Dixon line, and you order a barbecued rib sandwich, you will get:

  • Three, (possibly four) barbecued ribs.
  • A bun (on the side).
If you're at least a little familiar with the nature of ribs, you'll see the problem here. Ribs have big bones running through the middle of them. The concept of a BBQ rib sandwich is essentially like that of a chicken leg sandwich, only dripping with sauce.

Yes, where I lived for a while, it was Archibald's BBQ. This was a small building, behind his house, in a residential neighborhood. No one seemed to mind that there would be a few cars in the driveway and on the street during the lunch hours.

Archibald's has a counter with six seats. There was no room to stand. Those six seats were like the 50 yard line at a Super Bowl.

You would either get the regular or the large plate. The regular came with four ribs, two pieces of white Wonder bread, and a Coke. If you wanted extras, there was coleslaw and baked beans. They both sucked. The ribs were all you were there for, so that is why you usually got the large plate.

The large came with seven ribs and four pieces of white Wonder bread and a Coke.

The smoke was thick, and Archibald had a Chesterfield hanging out of his mouth the whole time he'd tend the pit. (Can you imagine the irony of a no smoking sign in a place such as this?)

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