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Itas always mid July in Texas at the Hog Pit: The smell of barbecued ribs ($13.95, comes with two sides) wafting throughout, ice-cold cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon ($2) sweating on the bar, and saucy, midriff-baring waitresses forcing their way through the crowd. Avoid the amateur keg parties on weekends by arriving after 10 p.m.athe numbers dwindle, the new crowd becomes more diverse, and the music switches over from Charlie Daniels to Zeppelin.
There was a time, when the bombs were still falling on Iraq, that American flags and motorbikes at the meatpacking district haunt the HOG PIT evoked a truly American promise. A cause to rally around with ideology and inebriation. Marxists, Marketists, and Motorcyclists. Americans one and all. Patriots with two-dollar Pabsts. The BBQ fires burn into the night, beers are iced in a trough, and you're always being watched by at least one mounted hog's head. More »
Located far enough on the western edge of the Village to suggest the outskirts of some Southern town, the Hog Pit knows it's tacky. Weathered walls, fly-specked windows, and a neon sign blaring "BBQ" begin an evocation of the mythic South that... More »
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