I awoke on Monday and my bag had been delivered. Hurrah! Tired of Northern Alabama, I hightailed it south to Tuscaloosa, home of the legendary Dreamland. It's nestled on a side street off the interestingly named Jug Factory Road (no jugs but lots of tires). Unfortunately, it’s a tourist haunt now, so the walls are plastered with Dreamland’s national press. They open early (10 am) so I had a short stack of ribs for breakfast—that’s all they sell. You have a choice of two sides, white bread and potato chips. And at that early hour, the place was packed. But it was mostly fellow travelers, and I had to giggle when I overheard this exchange: I’d like salmon. (No, we only serve ribs). Chicken? (No, we only serve ribs). Pulled pork? (How many ribs would you like, sir?). Oh, I guess I’ll have the ribs. Drowning in sauce, the meat wasn't as tender as I'd like, but the flavor was tasty.
Next I hit Miss Myra’s in Birmingham. Smoky goodness greeted me as got out of the car, and the meat served (pulled pork and more ribs) was juicy and flavorful. Her Alabama white sauce was tangy and thin, sort of in-between Big Bob’s and Greenbrier's.
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