The night was far younger than we realized. Someone invited us to have a drink at Wild Bill’s, which a local would later call “the last real place in Memphis.”
It was about 3 a.m. and time to eat dinner again. Even before leaving the Northeast, we’d labeled the ribs at Alex’s Tavern one holy grail of our Memphis quest.
The P&H, or Poor & Hungry, Cafe looks both poor and hungry. The whole building looks like it would be the first thing to blow away in a tornado.
The Ribs. Succulent, platonically moist, fall-aparty, infused with Memphis-style charcoal smoke, served with a dusting of finishing-spice and a side of sweet house sauce. In other words, perfection.