If you didn’t grow up in a family where get-togethers happen over smoked meats, you might not get it. But you don’t have to. What you need to know, is that this is what we do. It’s not fancy. It ain’t pretty. It’s barbecue. A few years back we started doing competitions, and it didn’t take long for a hobby to turn into a job. We made a name for ourselves as men who’ll pick a bone with anyone sayin’ you can’t find ribs outside Memphis or brisket outside Texas. When we finally claimed the top spot as Utah’s best competition BBQ team, a position we still proudly hold, we felt it was time to open a business.
There’s nothin’ fast about our food, in fact, it’s downright slow. Mom taught us way back when, with the aid of her most menacing wooden spoon—that if you’re going to do something, you do it right or you don’t do it at all. Dad was a meat cutter and taught us only to use the best of the best and that when you take shortcuts, you get lost. So we don’t do fast food, we do good food. And by good food, we mean the finest barbeque to ever hit you in the lips. It’s why we’re up before the early bird putting an edge on our ax and splitting perfectly seasoned blocks of hardwood. It’s why the middle-of-the-road is a place we’ve never been. Where we’re from, we don’t need secret ingredients—just some smoke, fire and a little patience. We know that fine line between “almost” and “just right,” and we know it well. This is dedicated to those dedicated few—to those that do it the right way. To the keepers of the flame.