The line starts forming before they even open the doors at Pappy’s Smokehouse in St. Louis, and there’s a darn good reason for it – this is barbecue worth waiting for, folks.
When you first walk into Pappy’s, your nose gets the party invitation before any other sense has a chance to RSVP.
That intoxicating aroma of slow-smoked meat isn’t just a smell – it’s practically a religious experience.
Let me tell you something about barbecue joints – they come in all shapes and sizes, from fancy-schmancy places with white tablecloths to hole-in-the-wall spots where you eat with your hands and nobody judges you…