December 29, 2008--Snowbirding: Troy's BarBQ

Along US 1, Federal Highway, up near Boynton Beach, hidden behind an overgrown hedge and housed in what had likely been the office of an abandoned gas station, for decades, Troy Davis has been operating his weekend BBQ.

As the painted sign says—“Open Thursday-Saturday” while the hand-lettered one taped to the window where you place your orders adds, “And Sometimes On Sundays.”

It was Sunday so we called in advance and were very happy to learn that this Sunday fit into the “sometimes” category.

Down here the Dolphins-Jets game was a very big deal: if the Fish could win it would represent the greatest turnaround in pro football history—they won only one game all of last year and if they could beat the Jets in New York they would move on to the playoffs.

So to be able to participate in the conversation Monday morning over breakfast at the Green Owl we needed to watch the game. Gobbling down ribs and collards and beans during halftime would mitigate the ordeal of watching the Jets most certainly collapse again—we are from New York and feel some residual loyalty to them.

As usual a bunch of men were hanging out in front of the place, stretched out on the eight or ten battered lounge and folding chairs Troy had lined up on both sides of the window. Some waiting for orders; others just hanging and talking to each other and Troy. Usually all are black since Troy’s is anchored in the center of the local African-American community; but today there were a couple of white guys, like us willing to drive a ways to get their hands on some of the best ribs for many miles and in the know about this hidden-away road-food treasure.

Remembering Rona from last year, Troy nodded at her as she placed the order—a full slab of ribs, sauce on the side, and a pint each of baked beans and collards. We settled into the two remaining chairs and quickly got absorbed into the rambling conversation. No surprise, it was about the game.

Yes the Jets were favored but the Dolphins had been playing well the past few weeks while the Jets had slipped into their annual end-of-season fold. One of the guys claimed that Brett Farve, the Jets quarterback, was due for a “break-out game”; but was quickly shot down by all the others who contended that he is an old man who should have stayed retired.

“But still with him you can’t be sure. It’s likely to be his last game ever if they don’t win. And you can never count that sucker out. But what do you New Yorkers think about our Pennington?” One of the older guys had turned to us—he had heard Rona mention to Troy that we were happy to be down here and away from the cold northern weather. “For sure you remember Chad?” He winked and smiled at Rona. Chad Pennington had been with the Jets for years and then let go at the end of last season only to be picked up by the Dolphins where he promptly led their remarkable comeback .

“He still looks cute,” Rona said. At that all the guys laughed.

“That’s all well and good, but I’m talkin’ about how he’s been leadin’ the team.”

“That too,” she smiled back.

Troy called out to the white guys to let them know their order was ready—two combo-dinners: ribs and chicken. “That’ll be $26. And like you asked, extra sauce on the ribs.”

They pulled handfuls of crumpled dollars from their camouflage pants. “How late you guys open tonight?”

“Til ‘bout six.”

“Maybe we’ll come back then for some bones and stuff like that. You know, for our dogs.”

“Well, I don’t know . . .”

“Scraps like you plan to put in the trash since like the sign says you ain’t open ‘gain ‘til next Thursday. Am I readin’ that correct?”

“You are but we don’t give that away for no dogs.” I wasn’t sure if this was about to get tense.

“I was aimin’ to pay you for them if that’s what you’re thinkin’. I got the money right here.” With that he raised his hand which was still clutching his remaining bills.

“I wasn’t sayin’ otherwise,” Troy said back to them without any attitude. “I know you boys are good for it. It’s just that you see,” he gestured toward the small houses that surrounded his place, “you see times are bad right here. Real bad. Many of the folks ‘round here who last year would come by on a Saturday for some Q can’t do that now. Most work as domestics or gardeners but lots of that work just dried up. Disappeared. The first thing other folks cut back on.” He snapped his fingers to underline how fast these jobs had been wiped out. “I’m still doin’ OK, thanks to God, but most of them are hurtin’. So come later today, with what I got left over, I just leave it out there,” he pointed to a table the other side of the small parking lot, “and they come by to take what they want.”

“Now I understand brother. I wasn’t wantin’ to be insensitive or nothin’. Many of my people are hurtin’ too. It’s just that I was thinkin’ . . . that is before I didn’t understand. You know what I’m tryin’ to say?”

“I do, man, I sure do. But we’ll get through it. ‘Round here folks have seen worse. We have to remember that. But better times are coming. Know what I mean? That I know for sure. That I know.”

They exchanged waves and with that the two white guys got into their pickup and drove of. I could see the one in the passenger seat straining to look back down the street that Troy had pointed out.

“Well, well,” he said to Rona, “Them boys are OK far as I’m concerned. They can come back here any time they want. Don’t be fooled by how they look. We’re all in this together. Be sure they know that too.”

                                                                      * * *

Later, the Dolphins played well enough to win and the Jets of course found ways to lose.

I’m still licking the sauce off my fingers and can’t wait to get back to Troy’s next weekend. This time maybe for some of his chicken and for more talk. As he said, "We’re all in this together."