Cashiers is a small town in the mountains of western NC. There's been a lot of recent-looking Republican-style development in the area. In other words, golf courses. These do not belong in the mountains.
But I digress. We stayed at a nice inn (the Millstone Inn) in Cashiers. Normally, I hate inns. Instead of the innkeepers fawning over the guests, the guests are always fawning over the innkeepers. ("This toddy warmer is lovely! Wherever did you find it?" The only place I hear the word "wherever" is at B&B's.) But this inn was OK. Fawning was kept to a minimum and it wasn't too damned foofy.
Again, I digress. On our way to the inn, we passed by Carolina BBQ.
Although some previous guest at the inn had written in the guest book (I also don't like guest books...they are full of fawning) that Jack Kevorkian must be the chef at Carolina BBQ, we decided to give it a try for dinner. This was an especially bold move, considering that our breakfast and lunch that day was four of the Lexington Six-Pack.
We decided that this place was a tweener...not good but not bad. It was BBQ for tourists in the mountains. But better than you'd generally find up north. The meat had decent flavor, but the sliced pork and the ribs were rather fatty. And the sauce was way too thick and sweet...too much like KC style.
The best thing about this place was the array of license plates covering the outside walls. There were very few from New England. They had a very cool license plate from the Northwest Territories. The plate is shaped like a bear. I tried to photograph it.
Unfortunately, it was the only nonreflective license plate on the wall. It's right in the middle of the picture, but you can't see it. This is a metaphor for this restaurant. Someday I'll figure out how.