Rock 'n' roll and ribs

Southern Living, Jan 2003 by McKinney, Wanda, Thompson, Annette

Or mission-which we chose to accept-- was to find the best ribs in Memphis and explore-the birthplace of rock 'n' roll.

We couldn't believe our luck. Our editor was sitting across the desk asking us to find the best barbecue and the best music in Memphis. We scooted out of his office and surreptitiously began planning. It wasn't long before we had our dream team together: Wanda, an intrepid reporter, known for fine writing; Annette, an intrepid barbecue eater, known for saucy comebacks; Richard, a native Memphian, known all over town; and Dana, our incognito restaurant critic, known for being unknown.

Ribs Run Through It

We set out across miles of twisted two-- lane blacktop for the big river city. Within a few hours, we wound through downtown streets to find our hideout-- the centrally located Peabody hotel. We caught up with Richard at 6 p.m., while Dana sneaked off to her white-- tablecloth dinner assignments.

Trench coats in place, we jaywalked across Union Avenue to a small alley, staying close to the walls as we approached Rendezvous, Memphis' most celebrated rib restaurant. We entered the charcoal-scented vestibule, and Richard, not in disguise, was quickly recognized. Our cover was blown.

Charlie Vergos, a man as rugged and friendly as a plate of ribs, escorted us to the best table in the house and plied us with towering sampler platters of his best 'cue. We nibbled lamb riblets, we noshed chicken, we gnawed dry pork ribs. "Bring us more napkins," we demanded, and the waitstaff scurried to do our bidding. The beer flowed, the tea poured, our waistbands expanded. We picked at peppers, we savored slaw and beans, we mopped sauce with bread. Charlie kept checking on us, shoving more food toward our groaning plates. "Enough," we finally cried, struggling to stand. "We'll be back again someday." We waddled out the door and made our way back down the alley, past The Peabody, and stumbled onto legendary Beale Street.

Eat to the Beat

We heard the music wafting from Elvis Presley's Memphis-a restaurant/music hall that looks more like a theme park eatery than a serious venue. Richard insisted we check it out. "Table by the bandstand, please," we demanded. This waitstaff didn't recognize Richard and sat us by the kitchen door, but we weren't disappointed. The floor show was big enough for the entire room. One of the house bands, The Dempseys, proceeded to blow the roof off the place. The trio-an upright bass, a guitar, and drums-cranked out rock 'n' roll favorites by Jim Morrison, the Rolling Stones, The Beatles, and, of course, Elvis Presley.

We ordered a fried peanut butter-- and-banana sandwich just for the fun of it (you can bypass this option on your visit) and a slice of Gladys' Apple Pie (be sure to try this). We munched and tapped our toes while Joe Fick manhandled the upright bass with the flexibility of a yoga-inspired contortionist. He played it behind his back and behind his neck, rode it like a horse, and stood on it. He rocked it, he hugged it, and he plucked sweet music from it. During the more-than-an-hour set, we realized we were exhausted from just watching The Dempseys. Time to call it a day.

Love Me Tender

The next morning we tried to pass up breakfast at The Peabody, but as Elvis said, "That's all right, Mama." We ate anyway, and then turned our sights to Graceland.

Shod in blue suede shoes, we shuffled through a tour of rock 'n' roll's most famous home. With headsets keeping a steady rhythm and historical commentary, we explored Elvis' seventies kitchen, his fuzzy jungle room, and the colorful pool room. We spent a quiet moment at the Meditation Garden, where Elvis, Gladys, and Vernon came to their final rest. Afterward, we scoured the gift shops for memorabilia.

By this time we were hungry again. Dana turned aside for another fancy lunch, while the rest of us made our way to Corky's. Wanda ate wet ribs, and Annette ate dry. We were in hog heaven. Richard went for the tamales with chili and cheese (how could he?). Squeezing our way out through the crowded tables, Wanda and Annette began arguing the merits of wet versus dry ribs. Richard offered a solution to the controversy. "Let's go try them somewhere else and decide."

Intrigued by the idea, we headed to The Bar-B-Q Shop, a lesser-known emporium of all things porcine. How could we eat ribs again, you ask? Not a problem. We ordered a slab of wet and a slab of dry. The three of us pretended we were food sleuths. A bite of dry, hmmmm. A bite of wet, hmmmm. Both wonderful. The verdict? Wait an hour or two, and try again.

Rock'n'Roll Heaven

Needing a break to make room for more ribs, we set off to find the sun-- Sun Studio, that is. It was there that Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, B.B. King, and Ike Turner began careers that shaped the sound of rock 'n' roll. After hearing outtakes from early recording sessions, we drove a few blocks to the sparkling Memphis Rock 'n' Soul Museum in the Gibson Guitar Factory.

We danced through exhibits with CD audio guides playing songs from Otis Redding, Al Green, and B.B. King. We learned that rock 'n' roll emerged from the culture of the blues, gospel, and country music. We felt its driving beat and wild tunes return us to the possibilities and thrills of youth.