
Family cemeteries are much more interesting than memorial gardens. In a family cemetery, the stones tell the story, if you know how to read them. My great-great grandfather had the grim task of establishing a cemetery when his beautiful, smart 27-year-old daughter died giving birth to her fourth child. Seventy-two years later, that son chose burial beside the mother he never knew in a small, remote cemetery instead of a busy, cheerful family cemetery among a sprawl of his siblings, cousins, aunts, grandparents, and everyone else with his last name.
You have to listen carefully to cemeteries, and brace yourself for what you might learn. That's the dark side venerating deceased ancestors.
While it's good to know where you came from, it's also relief to leave the dead to bury the dead and seize life.
So with "barbecue eyes" on, we turned the car back toward Davidson County and found Papa Kay Joe's, which got its own sweet write-up by the Southern Foodways Alliance (it's a stop on what they call The Southern BBQ Trail). Here's a quote from a 2008 interview with pitmaster Devin Pickard:
"There’s no knobs, there’s no gas lines, there’s no eyes, there’s no thermometer; there’s — there’s nothing. It’s just coals and a shovel and you do it — you do it long enough and you begin to learn how to fire the meat. ..."Oh yes yes yes.
I mean, this tidbit of Boston butt, swaddled in a pair of lard-griddled corncakes, was adjudged one of the 21 finest barbecue sandwiches in the South by Garden and Gun magazine.
Smoky, pink, juicy and irresistible, the meat is offered with a choice of three sauces, but it doesn't really need them.
There are two locations in Centerville: the mothership on the Linden Road (which Nashvillians call Highway 100) and a satellite on Ward Street (that's by the McDonald's, behind the gas station). Papa Kay Joe's has been operating for years; not having eaten this fantastic barbecue yet is an indication I need to drive out and see the family more often.
Showing 1-8 of 8
You had to go and mention the word "Mothership" when talking about BBQ? Why not just make a Jimmy Carl's reference and get me completely nostalgically weepy for my favorite bbq joints of the past?
I know--I had a little twinge when I chose the word "mothership." Bitesters, who among you remembers the fine product slung by Mothership Barbecue? My office got it for catering parties--I miss it so.
Loved mothership.
That barbecue on cornbread looks awesome. Years ago, there was an old country store in the Centerville area named Barnstormers, if I remember correctly. We would drive down and pick up a whole shoulder to bring back. I'm sure it's closed by now but dang, it was good. There must be something in the water down there.
My favorite 'que on cornbread used to be Joe's Village Inn. Yes, the overly smoky beer joint in Green Hills that has long since closed. Still my favorite. Don't know how Bread and Company ever got all the smoke and stale beers smells out of that building before they openned!
Oh, the Mothership.
It is so cruel that it didn't survive; he put SO much heart into that place, and his food was magnificent....
I had an opportunity to meet Devin and interview him last year. This is a great place with great people. I loved the Q on corn cakes and Devin has the prettiest BBQ wood I have ever seen. I got some great photos.