When I look at my track record of star awards, this one wouldn’t be as low as a three, and definitely wouldn’t be as high as a four . . . I’m conflicted. I’m going low here – maybe the karmic review gods will let the next reviewer go higher than they normally would and all will be right with the world.
I write this from the Megabus on my way back to Boston, and I’m getting bounced more than Andy Dick up this double-decker. That’s only apropos as B.J.’s was right across the street from the megabus pickup.
I’d had a beer in the east side location a few weeks ago and the barbecue smelled like ecstasy. Another engagement later that evening that precluded me from attacking a rack of ribs, but it was in the back of my mind, and manifested in today’s visit.
The barbecue sandwich I had – exactly what I wanted. I threw the pickles on contrary to my normal habit of going greenless; one bite and my decision was validated. The cole slaw was a bit runny but not overly mayo’d, and the mac and cheese to go is not their strong suit. A few more bread crumbs and a few minutes in the oven would have moved it from bogey to par. I’ll admit I Yelped for the best places around the bus stop; I saw Supermac and wanted to head over, but my bus schedule advised otherwise.
Friendly staff, good location, clean, food is decent. It’s a redo, but not until I go to every other restaurant I want to try in NYC (unless the only prescription for my fever is more short ribs, then I might make an exception.)
