Tom knows Phoenix. When I asked him where to eat, Little Miss BBQ came up before he even finished thinking. University Drive, he said. Not the other one. More seating.
It was a clear Saturday morning, the kind Phoenix does effortlessly in April. A little breezy, comfortable. We walked in without a wait.
The place is small. Five, maybe seven tables inside, a few outside. Wood-panelled walls, the kind that make a room feel like it has earned its years. The counter runs along the front with a narrow passageway where you order and move along, watching the meat being handled right in front of you. No theatre. Just the work.
We had already decided. Brisket, sausage, and the Saturday special — beef short ribs. When I hesitated for a moment at the counter, the man slicing the meat looked at me and said, you gotta do it. So we did.
He placed it on the cutting table between us. Three bones, a generous slab of meat, serious in a way that made you take it seriously too. I opted for the small size. He nodded and got to work.
The short rib arrives looking like it has been through something. The outside is deeply dark, a crust that has absorbed hours of smoke. Nothing like charcoal. There is a hint of burnt, but just enough to tell you it has been through something. Not overdone. Not unappealing. You look at it and you know something has happened inside that you are about to find out.
When you cut into it, the meat separates like fibers loosening after a long rest. There is a faint aroma, nothing aggressive. It does not announce itself.
But the moment it touches your tongue, something shifts. Salt and fat land first, and before you have even decided how you feel about it, you are already chewing. And chewing. And then it is gone. Just like that.
I mostly watched my son eat it. We were sharing, and there is something quietly satisfying about watching someone enjoy food you chose well. After some time, without quite planning to, we had finished the short ribs entirely. The brisket and sausage went home in a box.
Tom was right. He usually is about these things.
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