I woke up this morning to hail in Boulder, CO. This is a true story. There is a chance that I may have over served myself with the Seagram’s Whiskey last evening so the stomach woke up growling for some food. My friend, who lives in Boulder (I’m visiting for the weekend) suggested a BBQ joint which she had not been to, but had heard good things about. Without hesitation I said yes.
Simply put, it was stellar.
The joint is called Daddy Bruce’s and we actually got to see Daddy Bruce, I think…
Small ass little spot with only a couple tables and a counter. We chose the counter.
The woman was nice. she was on a 2 liter of grape soda. The gentleman was also very kind, but only had a few teeth.
They don’t mess around with the menu, pretty straightforward. We opted for the “Mix Dinner”
Holy Santa Clause Sh*t. Ribs, chicken, and brisket were all amazing. Beans get an A+ and I cant stand slaw, but I assume it was good. I wondered how do these ribs stack up with other ribs in town?!?!?!
BOOM! We were so intrigued that we were allowed the grand tour. We thought it was just a fireplace, boy were we wrong! That is where they cook the sh#t!
Final verdict; you eat at this place when in Boulder, you will walk out of the joint saying…
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