Monday, April 23, 2012

Everett & Jones BBQ: Tyra Banks Approved

Everett and Jones BBQ
126 Broadway, Oakland, CA
(510) 663-2350
My second restaurant venture in West Oakland w/ Honey was at Everett & Jones BBQ. When we arrived there was already a line waiting to get in— and the hostess was having a hard time managing.

It smelled great inside, and it was loud. The crowd was unlike anything you'd normally see in SF— middle and upper-class African-Americans, almost exclusively. Families, couples, SATC quartets, everyone was there.

There were these three girls sitting across from us in the lobby, all on their phones, all in their "zones." I could tell they'd been to this place before.

Every table had a sunflower and a red gingham tablecloth. I liked the decor a lot! We got a window seat in a slightly quieter section. 

We had already scoped out the menu while we waited and decided on the 'Four-Way Combination Plate' which "feeds two people." 

Don't forget about the 'Tyra Approved' Photo on the menu. 

I got lemonade and Honey got 'Saucy SISTAH Ale.' Honey said she felt tipsy after 3 sips. Likewise, I thought the lemonade was super strong. What did they put in there? 

When the food arrived, we were both appalled (in a good way). It's a LOT of food! We had ordered the macaroni & cheese, cole slaw, and baked beans as sides. 

The ribs were the best, hands down. There were fantastic! Tender tender tender. The sauce was thick and strong. Chicken slid right off the bone. Macaroni lasted 30 seconds. We ate and ate until we couldn't eat anymore, and there was still plenty left. 

My hands were covered in BBQ sauce so I excused myself to the bathroom. There were already two girls at the sink, and there were having heavy chow-chow gossip time. One of them had been sitting right next to Honey and I with her boyfriend— guess it wasn't going so well— she had a lot of sour things to say about her man. She was incensed that she "always" had to pick the restaurant, manage the conversation, and "do everything." She and her friend (who was on her own date?) both agreed that men suck. Then she whined that she looked fat in her outfit (she didn't) but I don't blame her because that food was heavy. You don't come to this restaurant in your skinny jeans. 

I had already feigned washing my face so I could eavesdrop, so I had to leave the bathroom and go back out. When I sat down I felt like I should say something to the boyfriend— a warning, maybe? I didn't say anything. 

Honey and I went to the Boardwalk next, and the view of the port was stunning. There was jazz music, tourists, and trains rumbling by... a nice way to end the evening. 

Don't forget your sunscreen! 

Me, sunburned

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