Bub’s BBQ
Route 116, Sunderland
(413) 548-9630
Open Mon.-Thu. 4 p.m.-9 p.m.; Fri. 4 p.m.-9:30 p.m.;
Sat. 12 p.m.-9 p.m.; Sun. 11:30 a.m.-8:30 p.m.
Sandwiches from $7.95. Dinners from $9.95.
It’s impossible to miss the plump pink porker dancing across Bub’s sign, a landmark that juts into the air on a strip lined by farmland and modest homes. It’s equally impossible to miss the vehicles lined up on the grass—the overflow from the full parking lot, ranging from Harleys to BMW convertibles. You’re equally likely to be dining beside a sauce-smothered 2-year-old or a polo-clad 60-something golfer couple or a briefcase-toting professor.
Kitsch and the penetrating aroma of sweet and tangy barbecue sauce were the first aspects of Bub’s that hit me as I walked through the low door on a balmy June evening. Two things were on my mind: pulled pork and beer. A moody teenage girl, who looked like she’d rather be anywhere than behind the counter helping locals and travelers alike fill their pork cravings, took our order: baby back ribs, a pulled pork dinner, kielbasa and a pitcher of Berkshire Brewing Company’s Steel Rail Ale.
We positioned ourselves outside at one of the picnic tables, fortified against spills by a red and white checked plastic tablecloth. We poured a round into our plastic soda cups and watched the eaters around us, some hungrily gobbling away, some sitting silent in food comas.
Our name was called, and we went back in to retrieve our platters and pile on as many sides as our paper plates could handle. An L-shaped counter held hot and cold platters with contents ranging from standard cole slaw to pickled beets with onions and hickory-smoked potatoes.
Digging in consisted of a mad dash to try everything on the table, meat first. A forkful of pulled pork revealed chewy shreds of meat thickly coated by a sweet classic barbecue sauce. Although they were not as tender as I had hoped, the familiar blend of sweet and savory soon had me shoveling the dense mound of pork into my mouth. I reached across to my brother’s plate to grab a few baby back ribs. The meat fell away from the bone, revealing its silky texture, almost as though it had been steamed. I made quick work of the ribs, which were flavored with just the right amount of sauce. Next came the kielbasa, fat, slightly sweet and crying out for a tangy counterpart (mustard, anyone?). Then I moved on to the sides.
The smattering of flavors and colors across my plate proved mediocre at best. (Let’s be serious: barbecue is really about the meat.) The collards were overcooked and underseasoned, mushy instead of firm and leafy. The dirty rice was bland and lacked the Southern flair the classic dish can display. The cole slaw was drowned in mayonnaise, barely allowing the shredded cabbage and carrots to make their crunch felt.
Better executed was the simple beet and onion salad, an earthy, unadorned mound of boiled and sliced beets with raw onion which provided a light antidote to the rich greasiness of the meat. Hickory smoked potatoes were crunchy and well browned and proved a perfect vehicle for sopping up extra sauce. And the BBQ ranch beans reminded me of English breakfasts of beans on toast—thickly stewed to a pleasing tenderness and floating on the sweetness of brown sugar and a slight spicy kick.
As our pitcher of beer slowly drained and the sky became streaked with rose, we sat sedated by the copious amounts of food we had just consumed. Most of the crowd had disappeared and we had the quiet grassy knoll to ourselves. For a summer night, there’s no place quite like Bub’s. Easier than a backyard barbecue but with all the comfort and casualness of your own patio, Bub’s promises always to satisfy if not to impress.•
