Listen, I came here for the ribs, but I stayed for the cornbread muffins—and by “stayed,” I mean I seriously considered faking my own disappearance just to live in their kitchen undetected.The ribs? Fall-off-the-bone, slap-your-mama level good. They’re so tender I’m convinced they slow cook them over a pit blessed by a Kentucky grandma who knows all of life’s secrets. Smoky, juicy, perfectly sauced—10/10 would elbow a stranger out of the way for another rack.But let’s talk about the cornbread muffins. These aren’t just muffins. These are divine intervention in baked form. I took one bite, saw a bright light, and heard angels singing in three-part harmony. If I could legally marry a cornbread muffin, I would. I’d buy it a little ring, whisper sweet nothings, and dedicate my life to its happiness.If you haven’t been to Red State BBQ yet, fix your life. Come hungry, leave happy, and—if you’re like me—try to figure out how to smuggle an entire tray of cornbread muffins home in your purse.
