As you know, I’m in love with the concept of le mot juste.
In this case, le mot is superficial. Superficial describes everything at
Soulfire – it looks amazing on the surface but lacks real depth. Soulfire is
like a salesman who exalts the greatness of the products the way Soulfire raves
about their 4 different barbeque sauces and NC vinegar.
The Sweet Tea is about as real as that sleezy salesman on the street corner in Chinatown who’s trying to sell you what he claims is a real Gucci purse. Except it’s so obviously fake you spotted it from 2 blocks away. It’s so fake that he openly displays it because it’s such a bad knock-off that there’s absolutely no way anyone can arrest him for brand infringement. We asked our server. They don’t know how to make sweet tea. They just dumped sugar into iced tea. That’s like drawing G’s on a canvas bag with a sharpie…in Russian…and calling it Gucci.
We ordered the Pitboss Sampler because it includes all the features of the menu. Just like that greasy used car salesman who sold you the 1999 Chevy said. Sadly, everything was not worth having. You didn’t mind paying a little extra for the decent factory speakers that made enough noise to give you a pleasant drive. You didn’t mind paying extra for an amp, and I didn’t mind adding a little extra vinegar to the slightly-bland pulled pork. You started getting irritated when you realized the heating and AC take hours to actually warm or cool the car, and I started getting irritated when I realized that the brisket and roast chicken didn’t have hours to soak in any flavor. But you’ll just wear and extra layer in winter and sip an iced drink in summer and I’ll just dip the brisket in Soulfire sauce and drown the chicken in Fire sauce. You and I dealt with these little flaws and we handled them admirably. You didn’t expect the perfect vehicle because after all, your car is over 10 years old, and I didn’t expect the perfect barbeque because after all, I’m in Boston. But you broke when realized that you definitely didn’t need those dingy rims that the salesman claimed were intentionally dull to make the car look classy, and I didn’t need those ribs that were deliberately made to NOT fall off the bone because it “takes away the flavor”. You drove the car home, took a closer look, and realized that the classy finish was scratches from parking too close to the curb. I bit into a rib and realized that the meat wasn’t falling off the bone because it was flavorlessly dry rather than “flavorlessly” tender like Soulfire claimed. That’s when you realized that buying less pairs of shoes was worth saving for a nicer car, and I realized that enduring the homesickness was worth waiting for my annual trip home.
The only sides/food items worth having was the Collard Greens and the Baked Beans. The beans are the reason we’re called Beantown, and the collard greens were the best I’ve ever had. And I’m from North Carolina. I’ve had real Gucci. The greens were cooked but just cooked enough to retain some of the original veiny texture. Like that life insurance salesman in the beautiful lightly starched shirt – still soft but with fresh, crisp cuffs. The pork was as soft as the perfectly matched Hermes tie complementing that shirt, and it was so good that my dinner companion ordered an extra pint to take home. This salesman may look and act superficial, but the product he sold me was legit.
If you never come to Soulfire, I can’t say you’d miss much. There aren’t a lot of southern BBQ places anywhere up north, but this is hardly worth the hike to the depths of Allston. If you happen to be driving by, have the person in the passenger seat pick up a pint of collard greens for you. Eat them while they’re hot, and you’ll have taken the only good product that the Soulfire salesman sells.
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