The smell reached me before I even turned off the engine. Hickory smoke, charred fat, something sweet underneath.
The kind of smell that makes you forget you were ever in a hurry. I had driven three hours down backroads for this, and standing in a gravel parking lot outside a cinder-block building with no sign, I already knew it was worth it.
Virginia’s BBQ scene does not beg for attention. It does not need to…