Posts Tagged ‘Max’s Memphis Ribs’

Where Is Harry?

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September 9th, 2010 Posted 8:39 am

“Here’s a case from Australia,” Bernie says. “Happened at the Royal Adelaide Dog Show – starting to remind you of anything, Chet?”

You bet. We know a waitress named Adelaide, a great waitress who works at Max’s Memphis Ribs. I stand up, ready to go.

“Kylie Sunman was there with her prize-winning entrant, Harry, a chihuahua.” Chihuahua? Oh, brother. “She was ten meters away from him toileting other dogs – that’s the expression she uses – and when she looked up Harry was gone. It was a snatch, Chet. Just like Princess.”

So we’re going to Max’s Memphis Ribs or not?

“Kylie Sunman is offering five grand for Harry’s safe return.”

I don’t know what five grand is, exactly, just that it’s a lot. I do know about Australia from Animal Planet – kangaroos! – but how far is it? Can we drive? I watch Bernie. He turns the page of the newspaper, sips his coffee. Are we going to Australia? Max’s Memphis Ribs? Anywhere?

Hat tip – Louise, Down Under

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Zooming

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July 3rd, 2010 Posted 9:55 am

Where were we with the case? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that we were zooming out of Vegas in the Porsche. There are some fancy Porsches out there, but ours isn’t one of them. Ours is old, brown with yellow doors, also has a bullet hole in the license plate – that was a day I’ll never forget! Although now that I mention it … And there’s a Max’s Memphis Ribs bumper sticker, which I know on account of their great logo: a pig sitting at a table, wearing a bib and holding a knife and fork. Kind of weird, because I’ve run into a pig or two in my time and they’re not like that at all. In fact, when it comes to pigs – watch out!

Anyway, all that about the Porsche is for any newcomers who might be here. The point is we were zooming out of Vegas, Ray Jason in the shotgun seat – my seat – and me on the little shelf in back. I was being real good about it, except for the tiniest bit of gnawing at the leather headrest, close to Ray’s ear.

“Where are we going?” Ray said.

“Take a guess,” said Bernie.

My guess was Max’s Memphis Ribs.

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Smithereens

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June 9th, 2010 Posted 9:48 am

“Nice and friendly, Albie leaving his door open like this,” Bernie said as we entered the house, a cool breeze of air-conditioning flowing in our faces. I’m not a big fan of air-conditioning. It makes me sneezy sometimes. But not now. Now I was more interested in this huge, quiet house of Albie’s. And was he really nice and friendly? Not that I remembered. Plus he smelled of old cheese, a smell I wasn’t picking up at the moment. So Albie wasn’t home. In fact, no one seemed to be home. Houses feel different when they’re empty, hard to explain why. So I won’t even try.

After a while we were in the kitchen. It kind of reminded me of the kitchen at Max’s Memphis Ribs – one of my very favorite places – except it was way bigger. I sniffed around for scraps, found none. That hardly ever happened in kitchens. Meanwhile Bernie was gazing at the table. There was nothing on it but a wine glass, lying on its side. Bernie took out the .38 Special. Always glad to see the .38 Special, of course, but why now? For a moment I thought Bernie was going to blow that wine glass to smithereens. Did that make sense? Kind of, at least to me.

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Top Secret

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May 13th, 2009 Posted 6:31 am

“What do you call this sauce?” Bernie said.

We were out on the patio back of Max’s Memphis Ribs, Bernie seated at a table, Cleon Maxwell standing beside it, me underneath with a big juicy rib.

“The sauce?” Cleon said. “I call it Max’s Top-Secret World’s Best BBQ Sauce.”

“Great name,” Bernie said. “What’s in it?”

Cleon laughed. “Nice try.”

“There’s Dijon mustard, I know that.”

“I confirm or deny nada,” Cleon said. He went over to another table where two big bald guys were chowing down.

“Wish I knew the ingredients,” Bernie said.

Ingredients? A new one on me. And who cared? I got that rib bone against those hard-to-reach back teeth and grinded away at it just the way I like. Does that feel great or what?

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The Books



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