Every time I drive down a certain stretch of asphalt, I pass by a dusty parking lot with a dilapidated truck and a huge smoker that emits the scent of barbecue. Over the weekend, my curiosity got the best of me, and I stopped to get a closer whiff -- and a closer look. And when I saw the meats in that smoker, I went all out, ordering ribs, pulled pork and Polish sausage, all of which were yanked from the flames by a charming pit master who turns out some of the best 'que I've had in Colorado.
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