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Mike Leatherwood's tiny chain of breastaraunts can be summed up in three keywords: barbecue, beer and beauties. The latter are called "Daddy's Girls," and serve the former two items while clad in tight-fitting clothes. Surprise, surprise: The main clientele are men sucking down cold ones and hickory-smoked 'cue, like the three-meat house platter with two sides. Bear in mind that some meats, like the bone-in half chicken, are only available on a platter. Baby-back ribs, sandwiches (pulled pork is popular), burgers and chicken-fried steak also make appearances on the menu. And for the ladies whose men are too busy ogling the staff or the big game on the television, there are several salads. Trust us, many a "Damn!" can be heard in the dining rooms, exclamations referring to neither food nor sport.
Bone Daddy's has been on my to-do list for a while now. It wasn't until recently, however, that I discovered it's basically the Hooters of barbecue. Based on other reviews I've read, I was expecting a long wait at dinner. That might be true for bigger groups, but since I was solo, I was able to climb right up onto a barstool with no wait at all.
I do in fact possess a Y chromosome, so I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I didn't enjoy the scandalous, half-naked waitresses. That being said, the bartender's massive thigh and torso tattoos and partially-visible birth control patch were a little unappealing and also slightly unappetizing. But I came here for the meat candy, not the eye candy, so on we go.
I started with an order of the Smokin' Tailpipes, which are listed as "smoked brisket, onion, jalapenos, corn, and peppers all wrapped up and deep fried." Given the menu description, I was a little disappointed with the lack of heat. You might expect something called a "smokin' tailpipe" to have some serious spiciness to it, but they had none at all. They tasted great nonetheless, and I guess I should be grateful that I made it out with my tailpipe unscathed.
Next, I ordered up a Flying Pig sandwich: pulled pork, link sausage, maple-glazed ham, and bacon on all one bun. I had to take a few minutes just to marvel at the pork-tastic masterpiece that sat before me. The sandwich was a little hard to eat, with various pork products spilling out left and right. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise though, since then I could sample each of the meats individually too.
The food was terrific, but the *cough* scenery could have been better. If Bone Daddy's wants to hire sexy jailbait waitresses, far be it from me to tell them no. Just make sure that they don't look like they're dancing at some trashy strip club after their shift is over. I do applaud their ability to wait tables in six-inch heels though.
Read my full review, complete with pictures:
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A sign on the wall says this: Blonds, our other white meat. Fondle the pork substation and do what you will with it. Our concern here is the white meat that isn't the other, whether oinks or squeals. Bone Daddy's messy grilled chicken wings aren't exactly white. They're more of a barbecue bronze with jet-black wing tips. These wings are juicy; the barbecue sauce throttles the sweet and turns up the tang before the spice slaps you as hard as a blonde with whom you've been fresh. The edges are... More »
We like the shoes the servers wear in this barbecue joint, mostly for their inspired classic look: Mary Janes, the strapped shoes styled after the traditional shoes children wore more than a half-century ago. These shoes are touchingly framed by lacy anklets, creating a heartwarming, homey image from a simpler time: one of innocence, where simple rib-sticking barbecue and a beer mug as big as a sumo wrestler was all one needed to know life was good. It isn't the hot pants, the glittery... More »
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