Brother Jimmy's BBQ
Growing up a block away from the Upper East Side’s Brother Jimmy’s BBQ location, the jappy side of me formulated a negative opinion of the dark in the daytime barbecue joint without ever stepping foot into it. Fast forward through my entire childhood all the way to my thirty-one year old self and my foot finally dared to step through the doors.
My first time there, I tentatively climbed up onto the barstool, looked at the menu and was terrified. The amount of grease made me want to bolt out of the doors back into the daylight where meals were fresh and healthy. Alas, I've committed. With a hint of snideness in my voice, I asked the super sweet girl behind the bar, wearing daisy Dukes and a Brother Jimmy’s tee knotted up high to show off her stomach and cut deeply from to bear her cleavage, what couldn't be missed on the menu.
That's how their Frickles, aka fried pickles, ended up in a red and white checkered paper lined red plastic basket in front of me. I ate them all. Somehow, the pickles were fresh, crisp and flavorful and the fried outside wasn't soggy or overly greasy. Such a killer bar snack! Those and the nachos were all I experimented with that day.
I went back! A girl friend of mine was celebrating her 100k milestone on Instagram there with heaping platters filled with 100 wings, 100 fries, 100 beers, 100 macaroni noodles covered in cheese—you get the gist. I've been converted! It's a super fun, easy going, gluttonously indulgent experience.