Sunday, May 2, 2010

Sentimental Sundays: A bottle of nostalgia with a side of BBQ

Happiness has many causes. Archer Farms coconut macaroon coffee from Target. Conan O'Brien stand-up comedy. A long stroll in the sunshine with my dog. Dinner with friends. A Sunday sermon seemingly written just for me.

Or even more simply, a bottle of pop that's the color of antifreeze.

A couple weeks ago on a Friday night, I visited Big Daddy's BBQ in Scottsdale, just off Shea and the 101 in the Pima Crossing shopping center. I am a PR professional, and our firm has been handling the restaurant's grand-opening festivities. In addition to serving crazy-good smoked BBQ meats - which are lacking in Greater Phoenix and, come to find out, as popular as air itself - this new concept comes from a good, reputable family: Big Daddy's "big daddy" is Mastro's of steakhouse fame.

My dining experience was part of an invitation-only free-for-all prior to the actual opening (April 26). The crowd's ordering, eating and carousing was designed to the get staff up to speed, and you can bet the place was smokin' on many levels.

The setting itself is a gift to both Midwesterners and Southerners who want a taste of home without having to make the drive or board a plane. As you walk into the restaurant, you get the odd feeling you're going outside - even when you're many paces from the patio. This "odd" feeling, turns out, is a good thing. Interior visual fixins include white clapboard siding, black trim, black screen doors that slap shut, stainless-steel-topped tables, wooden chairs and spacious picnic tables crowned with red umbrellas. The design is charming yet clean, and along the lines of clean, metal buckets with rolls of paper towels populate every table.

The menu, in addition to being every kind of meaty, features sides to suit various down-home tastes. The deliciousness factor is high, while the pricing is commensurate with quality and portion size. Meanwhile, the bar offers people exactly what they'd want; and most around me wanted beer and took their complimentary cold ones in hefty frosty mugs. Meanwhile, the knight of my night was a bottle of blue cream soda.

I grew up in Iowa, and my grandparents owned - and still own - a bowling alley called 30 Lanes. My dad's car-repair shop sits across the parking lot behind it. Suffice it to say, I had plenty of reasons to be in the neighborhood. On special occasions at the alley or when my dad brought home a case of bottled pop, I was given permission to indulge in a fizzy liquid fix - and my no. 1 choice was a bottle of Nesbitt's blue creme soda.

Though Big Daddy's appropriately serves Dad's blue cream soda vs. Nesbitt's blue creme soda, the smell of that pop and the taste of it washing over my lips was like getting into Doc Brown's DeLorean and traveling back to 1985. In just a sip, I was a kid again - carefree, sugar-filled and focused on the moment. Now that's one helluva drink.

You can bet I'll be going back for another, with a side of BBQ, of course.

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