Over Memorial Day weekend near Norris Lake, my wife and I went to a very small Barbecue place called Jim-Jim’s. It would be possible to miss it as you drive by on Tennessee Highway 61 on the way to Big Ridge State Park. Clearly run on a shoestring, the pulled pork sandwiches were really quite good (if a bit dry). The beans, slaw, and potato salad were each excellent, particularly the beans. As far as we could tell after the woman who took our order told us they had been really busy already that day, there were three people working there-outnumbering their noontime crowd by one. Though maybe less rare in East Tennessee than in some areas of the country, Jim-Jim’s is a sort of atavism—no webpage, no spell check on the menu. In fact, the menu on the table was handwritten on a sheet of notebook paper. I am drawn to such places—lucky for me, my wife, Katie, is too.

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