After a family pilgrimage to Hometown BBQ in Red Hook, Brooklyn earlier today, I am still full and remain on the nauseated side of life. Wouldn’t have it any other way. Brisket, ribs, cornbread, baked beans (with burnt ends, of course) and potato salad were piled high. The line was out the door upon our arrival and drinks were smartly offered during the wait as we went over our order again and again as to be prepared when it was our turn at the counter. Classic rock blared through the speakers as we, initially in silence, took our first few bites that led us into that state of BBQ bliss. We barely fit into the car on the way home, each one of us silently acknowledging that the passing of wind would be cause for immediate ejection from the vehicle. I chose to drive. To the animals that were sacrificed for our meal….