Mama Pig's, Don't take your Love to Town....

         Now, when you are hitching for a ride, heading out on the highway, looking for adventure, don't let that anticipation, take you for whatever comes your way.

     Joyce and I had been waiting for such a while to get introduced to Mama Pig's, what we had hoped was going to take us for a ride to St. Louis, Memphis, South Carolina, 

 and maybe, just maybe, Texas.  Good old boys, molasses, dry rub, slow dry heat and tons of smokey influences, enough to sway your vote for the newest BBQ in town, Mama Pig's, right here in downtown Windsor.

        Now mind you, our thumbs were held high in anticipation, and two of the sultry tunes caught our taste buds and delighted our flavor profiles, when the flat bed Chevy,

slowed down to give us a ride.  We found a giddy-up when we took our first bite of our Apple, Bourbon, Bacon Pie, and became entranced with a southern drawl as we pranced to the beat of the Hush Piggies, the textures a dueling banjo twang to our taste buds. 

      And yet, we were taken for a ride, not thru the Southern States, but found ourselves, undeniable, here in Windsor.  We had not been delivered to the Promised Land.       

      We had the Tri-Tip, which had been listed on the menu as Sirloin, dry rubbed, roasted and smoked, sliced a wee bit thick, and lacked any of the usual flavor profiles of all

the processes listed above.  We then sunk our dismay into the pulled pork, which had great texture, and even some of the characteristics of  smokey and the bandit, but we

 still didn't find what we were looking for, not being even slightly introduced to the dry rub intentions.  Now the coleslaw, though pretty to the eye, was lacking any of the kick you would have 

 expected from the "Good Old Boys", not showing any signs of the duel, or the squeal of the Pig, or Mama yelling as she rang the triangle bell, it's Party Time, and in this case, the

 party lacked the usual kick of Apple Cider Vinegar, Horseradish, or the sweet memories of a touch of honey or brown sugar.  The tombstone gave no credence to it's namesake.

       Where oh were has the little dog gone, we murmured in jest as we straddled the beans into our paleface mouths.  Ally, ally in come free, and count to a hundred before

you give up the desire for the "pit" or the oncoming onslaught of the molasses in Mama's BBQ beans. 
                           We thought the Box Lunch containers were a bit awkward, but loved the size of the sides.  Like most places using buns to hold the meat, whether they be BBQ meats or burgers, when slathered with sauce of choice began to lose their personalities.  Mama Pig's had the ambiance visually, and was crowded for the opening day, with lots of hustle and bustle, and the service and explanations were surely there for the taking, but we had hoped for more, and looked to the future for the kinks to be kicked up a notch and ironed out...Steven, the slightly annoyed and let down finger licking, tongue wagging, BBQ fanatic, looking for Bubba to come out of the wings, not the Day when the Music died,  Child, wishing yawl a better trip down Miss Piggy's lane...I came, I saw, I ate, and yet was not conquered.