Bubba's BBQ and Smoke House once lived in a nondescript field behind a south-side Superstore, hemmed in by two busy roads and operating out of a regular-looking trailer. Yet here, alchemy occurred. Slabs of meat were transformed by smoke and spice rubs, kissed and carried into otherworldly realms by the byproducts of combusting wood. Customers lined up, rain or shine, to take carnivorous communion at this altar of all things smoked and grilled. This halcyon era of barbecue, when protein-packed portions of sultry flesh were dished out in empty lots instead of overly polished restaurants, should have lasted forever. But disaster struck. The city let out a collective cry of anguish when Bubba's humble trailer went up - literally - in smoke. Bubba and his barbecue vanished.
This is how an improbable cult hero rose from the ashes.
Recent word on the street suggested that Bubba's was alive and well at an auction house near Argyll Road. The city's collective cry of anguish gave way to a frenzied "Hallelujah" Chorus. A BBQ lunch-run last Friday produced a take-out container heaving with succulent pork ribs, a generous helping of barbecue sauce, and a small mountain of seasoned rice. This is what Edmontonians dream of during the interminably grey winter months: lascivious meat and bone so thoroughly permeated by smoke and rubbed spices that they sigh and fall away at the lightest touch. The small tub of BBQ sauce seems almost redundant. Too often, barbecue ribs in this city are drowned - no; bludgeoned to a second death by superfluous syrupy concoctions. That is never the case with Bubba's
Bubba is one of those rare souls who does what he does because he damn well believes in it. Not because it's trendy. Not because it sets social media and the blogosphere a-twitter. Certainly not because he has something to prove or an axe to grind. No; good barbecue must be done for its own sake. Anything less would be unacceptable.