I've never been to Neely's Bar-B-Que in Memphis, but I've visited Interstate Barbecue, an older place in the same city owned by Pat Neely's uncle. It was there that the handsome and affable co-star of Down Home With the Neelys learned to smoke meats after he moved to Memphis from Detroit, according to Food Network lore. Guess what? The 'cue at Interstate—two kinds of ribs, chopped brisket, sage sausage, and pulled pork, all of it gobbed with a thick, sweet sauce—was terrible. Fast-forward nine years, and I'm squirming at the Showboat Casino in Atlantic City. In progress is a Neely-hosted event called Brews, Blues & BBQ, sponsored by the Food Network. 'Cue is loaded into steel tubs with spirit flames underneath. Little cards next to the containers say Neely's Barbecued Ribs, Neely's Barbecued Spaghetti, and so forth. Resting in brackish water, the pork ribs have achieved a shade of medium gray that only a Navy ship-painting crew could love, and the so-called barbecued spaghetti is worse—overcooked pasta inundated with a cloying red sauce. Pat and wife Gina sit not 10 feet away, smooching for the cameras, as their adoring fans line up for autographs. How can they not care that the nearby food attributed to them so obviously sucks?
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