The Meter Maid is Starving

Plotnik doesn't only review theatre. Another part of his difficult job is to review restaurants. Yesterday he tried Lilly's Bar-b-que, which is the new name for the old Brothers-in-Law BBQ shack on Divisadero. As a rule, 'BBQ Shack' and 'Customer Service' are usually not written in the same sentence, but Brothers-in-Law took this rule to an extreme, and the workers got surlier and surlier as time went on. Where once the lady would have said 'OK, Baby,' after you ordered, she now usually just grunted, threw your order at the pit man, and stuck out her hand for your cash.

Plus, there was that damned meter on the street. The Meter Maid must have been local and she must have loved her cue, because every time Plotnik parked at that meter he got a ticket. It was the Barbeque Meter of Death. So a rack of ribs could easily cost you $50.

Still, that all was tolerable, until the cue began tasting old, and started to smell a little bit, and you noticed a few extra days of mild stomach disorders. One had been de rigeur, but now maybe three?

So Plotnik and Ducknik had abandoned B-I-L's. But in Saint Plotniko you don't have many choices for downhome bbq. The Tony Roma's places serve expensive, tasteless ribs with the texture of oatmeal, Big Nate's is good, but not all that great, and Smoke Land across the Bay is a long way to drive.

Plus, last year Plotnik discovered Burrell's, in Orange County, which is 400 miles away, but serves the best ribs he has ever eaten, bar none, AND has a picture on the wall of Mr. Burrell with Magic Johnson. That too, however, is a long way to go for a meal.

So it's with pleasure that The Great Plotnik can report that Lilly's Bar-b-que is using Brothers-in-Law's old smoking and sauce recipes, and the food is wonderful. Plot suggests a combination of hot links and rib small ends. Don't look for the Peach Cobbler, though, because it's gone, and so is the Sweet Potato Pie. But the counter people speak Spanish and they don't quite get it yet. They will.

And the parking lot is nicer too, so you can avoid the lurking, starving Meter Maid. Right now, the counter man still says "Gracias, amigo," which is a lot better than a sneer, a grab at your cash and a parking ticket.