God I love barbecue. I have worshiped at the alters of Red's True Barbecue, made a pilgrimage to the Mighty Quinn's in New York, sat in the sun at Grillstock and surely sampled all the smoked meat Manchester has to offer. I cannot get enough of the stuff.
He who shares my DNA has the same affliction - not surprising really, although oddly he hates Haribo? I cannot explain this molecular misdemeanour. He's been a bit crook recently, and not overly mobile since having an op on his foot, so when I suggested we have a trip to Chester with our mum, he jumped at the chance - not literally - that would be foolish in his condition.
When I asked what sort of food he would like for lunch, I was given a one word brief - barbecue. A quick Google search later and I landed on the banks of the River Dee. A five minute taxi ride from the station is Hickory's Smokehouse; an impressive building overlooking the river, with its very own flaming rhino protecting the gates.