A commoner reviews Abe’s Bar-B-Q, Clarksdale, Miss.

Don’t you hate it when “real life” obligations get in the way of something you love to do?  So, I apologize to my narrow band of followers for not blogging much recently and I hope I haven’t lost any of you during the hiatus.  II guess I need to hit the road and seek out some new blog-worthy adventures.  For now, you’ll have to settle for this post about Abe’s Bar-B-Q in Clarkdale, Miss., and why – after all these years of seeking out great barbecue joints – Abe’s still holds the top spot with my taste buds.

The recent inspiration for this post came from a conversation I had with a friend last night who talked about taking a tour’ of all of the famous barbecue joints in the United States.  I immediately started processing the list on the bottom of my blog, and the discussion ultimately turned to Abe’s.  I've been fortunate enough to eat here at least a half-dozen times, and the experience never wavers in quality.  And fortunately, when I ate here last summer with the young Curmudgeon, I finally captured took some notes (mental and visual) of what makes Abe’s stand out to me. 

The first is location.  Abe’s just isn't any restaurant in Clarksdale, Miss., which is ground central for Delta blues music.  Abe’s is situated right off the famous “Crossroads” of where U.S. Highways 61 and 49 used to meet.  It’s the spot where, according to legend, Robert Johnson sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his amazing guitar skills.    

A commoner at the Commissary, Germantown, Tenn.

As famous Memphis barbecue joints go, the Commissary may not have the fame and notoriety of Rendezvous, Interstate or even some of the places you’ll find on Beale Street.  But then again, maybe it should.  Or, at least maybe it's starting to.  

To be honest, I would not have known about the Commissary if my friend, Ken, hadn't clued me in prior to our trip to the Beale Street Music Festival last year.  But I’m apparently not in the know as much as I’d like to believe.  Ken had heard how the Commissary had catered the Masters golf tournament one year, and so it had been on his short list of restaurants to try for some time.  And, I have to admit, I’m glad we made the trip out to Germantown to try it.