Illinois doesn’t usually come to mind when people start talking about barbecue, and that’s probably why the best meals I’ve had here caught me off guard.
I’ve lost track of how many times I planned to grab something quick and ended up sitting in my car afterward, hands sticky, wondering how a plate of ribs managed to reset my expectations like that. Barbecue in this state doesn’t feel like a performance. It feels earned.
You notice it in the smell hanging in the air, the way the person behind the counter asks how your day’s going, the pause that happens after the first bite when conversation just… stops. I’ve followed smoke instead of street signs, trusted local advice scribbled on a napkin, and learned that Illinois has a habit of keeping its best food a little quiet…