Road Trip: BBQ And A Brawl (The Unbelievable Mr. Brownstone Book 19)

by Michael Anderle

Nadina’s restaurants benefited from their more lenient government importation stances on Oriceran spices compared to Oriceran meats, but the sauce notes in the menu only listed the Earth ingredients, with a few cutesy notes such as “enhanced by a delicious touch from Nadina’s homeland.”

  James grunted. Details determined everything in food. It was hard to evaluate things before tasting it without that information.

  The chicken, pork, and beef were also offered in different versions, including live-animal derived, synthetic, and vegetarian-simulated. He gritted his teeth at the final option.

  Simulated meat was just wrong. It was a lie. The thought made his stomach tighten. Plants shouldn’t pretend to be meat or vice-versa, no matter how things were on Oriceran.

  Fuck, the way things are going, magic’s gonna produce some weird shit even if Nadina stays away from using it in her recipes. I should ask a vegetarian sometime: if a plant’s moving around on its own and eating things, does that make it not okay to eat?

  Given some of the things he’d seen from Zoe over the years, James wasn’t so sure there was such a clean line between plant and animal on Oriceran.

  James sighed and returned his attention to the menu, pondering magic as applied to barbeque.

  Decades after the return of magic, the FDA was still grappling with the implications, including long-term studies of the safety and health impacts of magically-modified organisms. The federal government had punted by restricting a number of Oriceran imports and sticking warning labels on most products. Caveat emptor if someone ended up growing a new arm after eating enchanted cheese.

  James’ home state, as was its tendency, overreacted by putting even more extreme warnings on everything. The way California made it sound, everyone was going to drop dead from cancer caused by a magical casting a light-orb spell ten miles away. While it wasn’t as if being dubious of magic was unreasonable, when everything had a warning label on it, such things became pointless.

  In James’ case, he didn’t care. Even if his current lifestyle was, most weeks, far less dangerous than it had been years ago, he knew one important fact. An enchanted piece of meat wasn’t going to be the thing that took him out, and if he had to choose a way to die, death by barbeque was as good an option as any.

  A waiter made his way from another table, tablet in hand. “Can I get you something to drink, sir?”

  “Give me your best Irish Stout,” James rumbled. “You have that, right?”

  He didn’t want to drink wine with his barbeque.

  “Yes, sir.” The waiter tapped in the order. “Are you ready to order? Please be aware, Mr. Brownstone, that everything is on the house for you, courtesy of Nadina.”

  James shrugged. “Not like I can’t pay, but whatever. Do you have some sort of sampler tray? I kind of want to taste everything.” He grimaced. “Everything from an actual animal. No synthetic meat. No fake meat. I don’t care how much it allegedly tastes like real meat. If it didn’t come from something with legs to begin with, I don’t want it.”

  “Yes, sir.” The waiter chuckled. “Very good, sir. Nadina anticipated you’d request something like that. I’ll put in your order right away and go get your stout.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  The waiter walked off, his crisp shirt, pants, and tie incongruous amid the glories of barbeque as far as James was concerned.

  A woman in a little black dress a few tables away was actually eating her ribs with a fork and knife. She might as well have been spitting in church.

  James shook his head in disgust before smirking at the fact that most people were wearing black leather bibs. He only had paper ones at his restaurant.

  The other Nadina restaurants he’d tried had varied. Some had cloth bibs, others paper, but he hadn’t seen leather before.

  Does that mean they’re cleaning those things here? That’s gonna get obnoxious.

  Every once in a while, someone looked James’ way, but most people didn’t seem to take particular note of him. He was just another man in a room filled with celebrities. One balding man working on ribs with the delicacy of someone performing brain surgery even gave him a disgusted look as if surprised Nadina would allow some random man in jeans to attend the opening of her high-end eatery.

  James relaxed into his seat. He wouldn’t have to worry about strange meat, and the HDL wasn’t daring to show their faces. His barbeque road trip wouldn’t be defined by him going after mutant drug-enhanced wizards, but by the glories of sauces and grilled meats.

  The waitstaff seemed competent. No reporters were messing with him, and no one was flooding over to harass him about autographs. He might not like everything on Nadina’s menu, but he intended to spend the next hour stuffing himself with barbeque both as a customer and a competitor.

  Fancy barbeque might not be my thing, but it’s not like it hurts anyone. I’m just going to enjoy my meat.

  A grin broke out on his face. Shay only tolerated barbeque. Alison liked it, but she’d fallen for the dark side of sushi, loving a type of food that involved animals without legs. However, his new kid would be his to mold from the beginning. As soon as the kid had teeth, he or she was getting barbeque. His child would grow up to love barbeque as much as James.

  I’ll have him working the grill on a stool if I have to.

  James licked sauce off his fingers, his brow furrowed in concentration. He had just finished downing three pulled pork sandwiches. According to the waiter, they were supposed to be Piedmont style, which would make them a North Carolina style variant. The tang of the apple cider vinegar was there, along with notes of ketchup and a nice balanced heat from red pepper flakes. That didn’t bother him. He needed it. Expected it, really, given the style. In addition, salt and sugar were present.

  The problem was what else was there. There was some other subtle flavor in the sauce, a faint aromatic note he couldn’t identify. It took him off-guard, and his quick devouring of the sandwiches was more his desperate attempt to identify the ingredient than hunger.

  I don’t know what it is. That means it has to be something I’ve not had, or something I’ve had but haven’t identified. Some Oriceran spice, maybe? I don’t remember eating anything like this at any of Nadina’s other places.

  While James didn’t object to Oriceran spices, he had no interest in using them himself, which meant his experience with them was limited. He’d faced off with a few other pitmasters using them, including Nadina, sometimes winning and sometimes losing. Those results suggested they had their value but weren’t inherently superior to Earth spices.

  “How is everything?” a soft female voice asked from behind him. “I see you’ve tried ribs with several different sauces, several different types of sandwiches, and many different types of meats. Hmm. All live-sourced meat, though.”

  “Some’s good,” James admitted without looking behind him. “Some of it is very good. The pork is great. Most of these sauces are great. Not gonna say she nailed the Tennessee, though. It’s maybe even a straight-up miss.”

  “Oh?”

  “The flavor was a little weak, but the standard Texas and Kansas City are great. Beef and chicken are decent, but not at the level of her pork work. Not gonna say I love all these other weird-ass meats, but the KC-style emu was tastier than I thought. I’m not going to add it to my menu anytime soon, though.” He grunted. “I ended up deciding to give the synthetic meat a try, but it’s always the same.”

  “The same?” the woman asked, sounding amused.

  “I know they say you’re not supposed to be able to tell the difference.” James shook his head. “But I can always tell. I guarantee, if you put a blindfold on me, I could tell.”

  “Interesting. Have you tried any of the vegetarian options?”

  “Hell, no.” James picked up a half-eaten rib as if he could ward off the Vengeful Spirit of Vegetarianism. “Barbeque is about meat. Synthetic meat might not grow on an animal, but at least it’s meat.” His nostrils flared. “So, overa
ll, all the pure meat options are good to great, nice sauce work, good bark technique, good temperature control. Are there some individual styles I didn’t like? Yeah, sure. Occasionally she does something with a spice that doesn’t work for me, but I’m sure these rich people from Denver will eat it up. The great thing about barbeque is that different styles work for different people.”

  The woman laughed softly. “You’re consistently honest, James.”

  He frowned and turned around. He’d been assuming he was talking to a waitress.

  Nadina stood there, smiling.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nadina wore an emerald-green chef’s uniform, the name of her restaurant embroidered in script above her pocket. Her blond hair had been woven into a series of intricate braids that might have needed spells to maintain, a few of the braids framing her pointed ears. She folded her arms, her soft lips curled up in a slight smile, no hint of anger in her eyes. The smooth-skinned woman might be mistaken for being in her twenties if she were human, but she was over a century old.

  Despite a few stains on the uniform that proved Nadina had been cooking that night, it was hard to ignore the makeup, the bright lipstick, and the hairstyle. The woman projected glamour and beauty, but her current image more a celebrity chef ideal compared to her humbler initial appearance on Barbeque Wars years prior.

  Who would have thought she would come this far?

  James might have been annoyed and suspected she was coasting more on style than skill if he hadn’t tasted her food. He knew that she could grill, even if she pushed the occasional eggplant abomination as an alternative. It was just hard for him to relate to wanting to be in the public eye instead of hiding in the kitchen.

  I bet no assholes come into her place to try to get punched.

  James grunted as he processed the thought. She might not have that, but he had never had to deal with protestors outside his restaurant.

  “My wife’s always telling me I need to be careful what I say,” James offered. “And here I am shitting on some of your food. It doesn’t make any difference that I didn’t know it was you.”

  Nadina laughed softly and took a seat across from James. “Honesty isn’t a trait I dislike. People can lie, but food never does, and deluding myself about what I cook won’t help me.”

  “Even when I’m bitching about how much I hate certain things?” James shrugged before taking a bite of another rib. No reason to dwell on the food he didn’t like when there was plenty there he did.

  A reporter’s drone camera closed for a quick picture, retreating when James swept the room with a glare.

  “Yes, even then. It’s not as if you didn’t just get done singing the praises of many of the things I’ve been serving tonight. No one will like everything, and I appreciate what a carnivore you are.” Nadina folded her hands in front of her. “It’s a matter of perspective for me.”

  “Perspective?”

  Nadina nodded. “Yes. I’ve had a blessed career. When I started on Barbeque Wars, a lot of people believed I wouldn’t make it. A lot of people mocked me for even daring to think I could cook something they felt represented the soul of America’s regions.”

  “Yeah, but you proved them wrong.” James had already admitted to her in the past that he’d had similar thoughts when he’d first heard about her, but once she had started winning, they’d disappeared. He respected the judges on the show and had no reason to question their decisions.

  “I proved those doubters wrong, and many turned into supporters, but not all did.” Nadina’s smile wavered. “Some decided mockery wasn’t enough. The mockery turned into death threats.”

  James’ jaw tightened. “Yeah.”

  Even if he’d heard it before, it didn’t make it any more comfortable. Criminals coming after him when he was a bounty hunter possessed a certain basic logic. Threatening someone for cooking good food passed into the absurd.

  Nadina sighed. “You know what the real tragedy is?”

  James shook his head.

  “So many people thought I didn’t understand what barbeque meant.” Nadina stared at the tray of ribs. “But I understood from the beginning.”

  Yeah. I doubt it’d make her feel any better if I told her the HDL protesters think she understands that well enough that she’s part of a purposeful plot against the planet.

  The more James thought about it, the stupider it sounded. He loved barbeque probably more than anyone on Earth, and he doubted Oricerans would ever conceive of undermining the country or planet by pushing an elf as a pitmaster celebrity.

  Oriceran chefs in other culinary areas hadn’t received nearly as much attention or pushback. Apparently, the fiendish plot to undermine humanity wouldn’t involve Oricerans becoming the best at making Beef Wellington or risotto at Michelin-star restaurants.

  Huh. Maybe this is proof people give more of a shit about barbeque than they do fancy cooking.

  “I’ve always known what food means to people,” Nadina explained quietly, with a wistful look. “It’s not so different on Oriceran, regardless of species, and I think that was why I became so obsessed with barbeque. It spoke to my soul, so I wanted to share my soul with the rest of the country and this world. It’s the best gift I could give them to pay them back for the joy I’ve experienced since coming to Earth.” She unfolded her hands and gestured to a tray of brisket. “But I’m also not a child, and I knew that walking the path originally, let alone continuing to do it in a high-profile way, meant a lot of people were going to criticize me for various reasons. I accepted that it would harden the hatred of certain people, even as I convinced others of my sincerity.”

  James nodded. “That’s true. I don’t think a lot about how no one gives a crap if someone who looks like me opens a barbeque restaurant.”

  “Anger and hatred aren’t new.” Nadina furrowed her brow. “Many people have this incorrect conception of Oriceran as a place of peace, but it’s a tenuous peace that was born of blood and fire.

  “You don’t have to convince me. The few times I’ve gone to Oriceran, it’s been to kick someone’s ass.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Nadina sighed. “I’m not saying any of this to complain.” She gestured around the packed dining room. “Being able to share food with people means I’m sharing love. I’m bringing our worlds together in a special and delicious way. I hope that in some small way, that means the two worlds have far less of a chance of going through something like what happened to my planet, even if that’s naïve.”

  James shrugged. “Probably doing more than me beating people up.”

  Nadina chuckled. “Probably. Anyway, all I’ve ever wanted was for people to give me a chance. If they don’t like what I offer them, that’s fine. That’s their right, but I want them to try.” She nodded toward the mostly-consumed tray of ribs. “And that’s what you’ve always offered, James. I can’t be angry just because you don’t love everything I make. Your honesty comes from you at least trying. You’ve never dismissed my food either in private or publicly because of my background or my species, and that honesty is pure and refreshing in its own blunt way.”

  James chuckled. “I’ll have to use that line on my wife and daughter the next time they bitch about me being an asshole.”

  “Feel free.” Nadina let out a contented sigh. “I also knew you wouldn’t like a lot of this rather extreme upscale fusion menu. You’ve always been a more old-school pitmaster, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but I’ll always appreciate how you’ve spoken up for me.”

  “Those HDL assholes were annoying. It’s no big deal. Loudmouths. I knew if I said something, they would scurry off.”

  Nadina shook her head. “I don’t just mean them. I mean in the past. While I might have a lot of unusual fame and influence as the first elf to really make it big in barbeque, you’re James Brownstone, the Granite Ghost, the famous class-six bounty hunter.” She gave him an appraising look. “I might be able to do magic, but I couldn’t defeat the kind of enemies yo
u have. You were famous from the moment you started participating in competitions.”

  “I’m retired now,” James offered. “Being a bounty hunter doesn’t mean much.”

  “You’re retired? What about Chile?” Nadina smirked.

  James averted his eyes. “I just kind of stumbled into that.”

  Mostly. I’ve just kind of stumbled into a lot of shit these last few years. I can’t help it if people are idiots.

  “I see.” Nadina looked like she was trying hard to not burst out laughing. “My point is that you have more influence in our community than a lot of people, and if you’d spent a lot of time talking trash about me, it would have hurt my career and community acceptance. You could have sunk my career. You were already participating in competitions before your retirement. I remember the first time I heard about PFW.”

  James scoffed. “It always comes down to the food for me. Nothing else. Some Harriken asshole could enter a competition, and I’d still judge him fairly before kicking his ass.”

  Nadina snickered. “Oh, I believe you. I also remember what you said to that one judge at Pork Days at Texas A&M. When was that? I think it was five years ago now.” She laughed and leaned forward to whisper, “I remember the exact look on that judge’s face when you told him that he was ‘a dumb motherfucker who should stick to eating eggplant steaks because he obviously had no idea what good barbeque was.’” She shook her head. “It’s hard for me not to giggle every time I think about it. I don’t think anyone had even spoken to that man like that in his entire life.”

  James frowned. “Wait, how do you know about that? You weren’t in the room.” He glanced around to make sure there were no reporters nearby.

  “A friend told me about it.” Nadina paused for a moment to offer a smile and a wave to a departing guest. “I’ve thought about thanking you for that for years at one of my openings, but you’ve been avoiding them. I wanted it to be special, and here we are five years later.”

  “I don’t like…” James nodded to a reporter across the room, “…this kind of thing. That’s why I don’t like openings. I hated the circus when my place opened, and it wasn’t nearly this bad.”