recommended Martin’s to me if I ever made my way to Tennessee. As the Ten Meat Commandments Say: “Honor thy Pitmaster above all else”, I journeyed 5 hours through the Smokey Mountains to feast in what many of our religion would call the “Meat-rusalem” of Ribs. As is the case with all of the advice I receive from Meat-sus, Martin’s Bar-B-Que Joint in Nolensville, 20 miles outside of Nashville, lived up to the bill. Martin’s is a traditional smokehouse by Memphis-style standards, and the ribs hit a spot in my loins that hadn’t been touched in years.

In my humble opinion, Memphis-style dry rub has no comparison in the dry spice barbecue world, and Martin’s lived up to the bill. The Brisket and Pulled Pork were also quality smoked meats that made, but Martin’s ribs undoubtedly pulled a Marshawn Lynch and went Beast Mode on my taste buds, carrying the team that was my mid-afternoon meat meal on its back. My journey back to St. Louis saw me sweating out meats from the meal for days: The sign of a successful day at the office.
Yours in Heart Attacks,
The Burnt Ends Girthwich.