If you've eaten at even a few barbecue jernts, then you've probably seen your fair share of magazine and newspaper stories in little cheap frames hanging close by the cash register, the sign for the restrooms, or the Health Department's sanitation grade. You know, the clipping from the local Bung County Trumpeter, of maybe even a story from People magazine. Seems like just about every barbecue shack has at least one. Now, while the hanging of framed clippings is by no means a necessary part of the barbecue mis-en-scene, it certainly does conform greatly with the traditional barbecue gestalt.
Don Murray's Barbecue in north Raleigh gots clippings. Lots of them. There's just one eensy beensy leetle problem, though. All of the clippings come from the Spectator's "Best of the Triangle" series.
Now, if you aren't within spitting distance of one of the Shinola domiciles, you may not be familiar with the Spectator, which oozes out of Raleigh once a week, dispensing bad ideas with a liberality (not to be confused with liberalism, thank you very much) that shocks the weak and befuddles the senses. If the Spectator says to run out and buy a record, and you do, you'll be using it as a coaster before you can say "Little Band." If the Spectator recommends a movie, bring a pillow and a blankie, because you're headed for nap time. If the Spectator says vote for Candidate X, do us all a favor and mark the ballot for Candidate Y. Get the picture?
So when I walked into Don Murray's Barbecue and saw two walls plastered with awards from the Spectator's "Best of the Triangle" series, I figured I might be in for a less-than-optimal pork encounter. My suspicions were confirmed. One award was for the Triangle's best hush puppies. Now, if the award had been for the Triangle's best rubbery, unchewable, and tasteless hush puppies, i might have believed them. But if the Spectator was in fact talking about that lovely encounter between corn meal and oil that makes North Carolina worth living in, then--once again--the Spectator was as far from the mark as Bob Dole is when he calls himself a Washington outsider.
There were lots of awards on the wall for Don Murray's chopped barbecue. Well, I guess it was the best in the Triangle--yeah, right, like maybe the Bermuda Triangle. Don Murray showed no signs of actually loving their pig. I'm sitting here right now, trying my damndest to remeber what their barbecue tasted like, and I come up with a great big blank. Draw your own conclusions (hint: "forgettable" and "uninspired" might be good places to start).
There were two saving graces to the meal I had: The sauce wasn't bad, although it pretty much disappeared from my pallette once it was subjected to the barbecue. The cole slaw, on the other hand, was pretty damned good (and it didn't win any awards--a good sign, indeed); it was vinegary and peppery, and I finished my whole bowl, Ma.
Well, I guess if you find yourself stranded on Capital Boulevard and you
don't want to eat from one of the gazillion chain restaurants that
strasse has to offer, then Don Murray's might do. It's an "in-a-pinch"
sort of place. But, if the traffic on that gawdawful road allows, you
just might want to point your vee-hickle elsewhere.
--The Mayor