Tifton, GA~

The place was unassuming and comfortable in its surroundings in the suburbs just slightly outside of Atlanta. Two turns off the highway got us there an hour before it opened. We found ample parking in the lot of the community center next door and cued up some podcasts to pass the time as we contemplated what the interior of the place might look like. When 11am finally arrived we locked up and walked the half block to stand in front of an establishment the size of a small pre-fab house.

Abdullah the Butcher’s House of Ribs and Chinese Food: You’ve got to love the name and the way it makes your pericardium and associated arteries tremble in masochistic anticipation. Alex had decided on the BBQ. I was taking on the Chinese food end of things. Stepping across a veranda that I can only imagine packed with BBQ and wrestling fans on weekends during the summers we walked into a homely dinning area that looked like that of any other strip mall Chinese food purveyor, but this promptly where the similarity ended.

A second room adjacent to the left of the first was outfitted for a more drawn out dining experience, with beautifully upholstered booths and chairs and hardwood tables that gleamed in the scant sunlight coming in through the front windows. It looked like an inviting and comfortable place to be for a planned experience of rich and succulent food, but it was the walls of the first room that really held our interest.

Nearly floor to ceiling were 8 x 10 inch picture frames containing promotional and candid shots alike of professional wrestlers, most of whom today’s fans would barely recall, let alone recognize. Some were signed, many were of the same individuals and some contained newspaper clippings relevant to the images. There were faces I hadn’t seen since I was just 12 years old, watching an obscure channel high on the dial with questionable reception. I’ll admit that I was nearly as confused as my parents at the time as to what my fascination with this not quite genuine yet very real form of entertainment.

Now, after over five years of making a living swallowing swords, eating fire, walking on long blades and broken glass, performing as a persona that is all me, but only partly, I can say with a deep understanding that I get it now. I really, really do.

I found myself awash in nostalgia and longing, palpably missing those Saturday afternoons of entertainment, when kayfabe was a respected and cherished methodology effective enough to create an entirely separate world that was jealously guarded by those within it. These days disappeared rapidly in the 1990s realm of televised wrestling, with gratuitous and extreme violence overriding storytelling, and what remained of the story becoming tabloid level pornography. The small independent promotions, however, putting up shows in gymnasiums and rec centers across the country on a monthly and sometimes weekly basis, still remember and hold tightly to the richness of kayfabe, even as it evolves and adapts to the times we live in. I know that the sideshow traditions I hold fast to in my heart and mind are akin to this, though wrestling has become an entity in its own right, far from the midways of old, with sideshow just as far away but on a different fork in the road.

My stomach rumbled to remind me that while mental jackpots were all well and good, it was lunchtime and there was food at hand. Alex ordered the half chicken platter with mac & cheese and black-eyed peas. I put in for the Almond Chicken. We took a seat just across from the kitchen at a table where two gentlemen were already seated and talking.

It is always a pleasure to find out that food bearing an expectation lives up to said expectation. The BBQ sauce was succulent and not too sweet, not to vinegar in flavor. The Almond Chicken was packed with fresh green vegetables and tender pieces of meat. The sides were generous, well-prepared in traditional Southern fashion, as was the sweet tea. It was a wonderful way to spend lunchtime. What put our experience at an even higher level was the company that happenstance provided us. When we got through general pleasantries and introductions we had learned that the older gentleman was the father-in-law of the younger, had grown up five houses away from Muhammad Ali and his family and was a Grand Master Mason in the Prince Hall Lodge. He told us remarkable stories of the military during the era of segregation and of his experiences as a young man in the minority of our population. When it came time for us to speak of what we were all about I felt very humbled and slightly sheepish, but I’ve learned that people who aren’t living my life tend to find it interesting as they hear about it so I forged ahead with some stories of my own, Alex right with me with some more killer jackpots.

By the time lunch had ended the four of us were no longer strangers and we were all genuinely sorry to see our time together draw to a close. I credit Abdullah the Butcher’s House of Ribs and Chinese Food for having the audacity to bring together good food and good people in humble yet absolutely fascinating circumstances and I genuinely believe this sort of thing occurs regularly there. We’ll be visiting again when able, taking the time to look about us as we have become accustomed to doing in so many of the unique places we tend to find ourselves.

Gentlemen, we hope you enjoyed your second helping of BBQ in the evening and we want you to know we thoroughly enjoyed making your acquaintance. Our best to you both and we look forward to seeing you down the road.

Our best to The Butcher as well. Thank you for the safe haven on our travels. We’ll be back to see you again soon.

Abdullah the Butcher’s House of Ribs and Chinese Food
2387 Fairburn Road SW
Atlanta, GA 30331
404.629.2332

 

Hours:

M – Th: 11am – 9pm; F & Sa: 11am – 10pm

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