I’m from the South. When it comes to barbeque, I know a thing or two. I’ve eaten at chain restaurants, nice mom & pop joints and even hole-in-the-wall stands. From Florida to Virginia and out West to Kansas City. While I may not be the world’s best expert, I know what to expect from tasty barbequed treats. Now, I realize that the Pacific Northwest is not known for its skill with slow cooked, hickory smoked meats but I was willing to give a chance to High Dive, Fremont’s recently redesigned bar (Formerly Suite G). I chose High Dive because I walk past it every day and what better place to put a barbeque restaurant for a displaced Southerner. Little did I know I was about to be extremely disappointed.

I ordered a beer along with a Pulled Pork Sandwich ($9.75). It arrived quickly and first looks held a lot of promise. But never judge a book by its cover. My first clue that High Dive knew nothing about barbeque was the froufrou bun the pork came on. It was reminiscent of a chibatta roll. Slightly dusty with flour on the crust, a soft texture with lots of large air pockets inside, “this was not going to stand up to a pile of juicy meat”, I thought. Most sandwiches you get in the South come on a toasted version of a hamburger bun and for good reason. Add a bunch of meaty juices, some sauce and if you don’t have a substantial bun, you’re in for trouble. After getting over my disappointment in the choice of bread I turned to the meat itself. Let me say this, while roasting has some similarities to barbequing (They both tend to cook the meats for a long time at a low temperature), it is not a substitute for a wood smoke fire. The meat itself was fairly bland, no smokiness, no pink tinge but it was tender and fairly well shredded. This of course was the meat in the middle of the pile I received, the meat that was not drowning in sauce.

Good barbeque should always be able to stand up without the need for sauce. A sauce is just “icing on the cake” as it were, for good meat. Well, the sauce that High Dive serves actually has more in common with icing than it does with real barbeque sauce. Candy sweet it overpowered any other flavors that may have been present in the sandwich. I couldn’t quite place it but the closest flavor I can compare it to is Asian sweet and sour sauce. This “barbeque sauce” has no place on any respectable pulled pork sandwich. The one redeeming aspect of my meal? The beer battered fries. Order them by themselves, with spicy ranch. They are awesome!

So was it too much for me to ask for a bar in Seattle to serve authentic barbeque? I say, “Yes and no.” I realize that the owners, cooks and bartenders of High Dive have probably never even been to the South, much less eaten real barbeque. But there are so many books, shows and websites dedicated to the proper preparation that there really is no excuse to serve lukewarm, bland meat swimming in a tooth-rottingly sweet sauce. Stick to the bar snacks and stop trying to have a theme.