Seated at one of the four, fluorescent lit tables of the glorified greasy spoon that is Ron's Ribs, a petite elderly woman audibly sighs. She smiles when she catches herself being watched and eyes her late Saturday lunch approvingly; in a heavy southern drawl marked by appreciation, she offers a simple "I just didn't know you could get food like this 'round this area"
What she means, of course, is down-home southern comfort: the great American barbeque. And not the standard "slap-frozen-meat-plus-Kenny-Rogers-signature-sauce-on-
porch-grill-and-hope-landlord-doesn't-catch-you" style most familiar to the Penn undergrad community. Rather, less than 20 blocks east of campus, on 16th and South, one can find barbeque as the good Lord intended it to be: messy, uncomplicated, and delicious.
A near seventy year legacy legitimates Ron's Ribs claim as a "south street tradition" (Billie Holiday once said that the restaurant offered the "best ribs [she] ever had"). And as owner and chef Kevin, who took over the family business from his late brother Ron (yes, that "Ron"), attests, not much has changed since its start. A no-fuss, no-muss d‚cor reflects the joint's (a more applicable word than "restaurant") humble beginnings as a street-side BBQ pit: black and white photos of its legendary customers line the well-worn yellow walls, an ancient oven ("older than you or I," quips Kevin) looms in the corner, and a giant refrigerator displaying Coke cans, water bottles (the only two drink options), and giant vats of side salads, greet the customer upon entering.
Approaching the counter, one orders from a weathered plastic sign ("sie rdrs," anyone?) or a small paper menu taped to the plastic splash guard. Platters, or a choice of a meat and two sides, are the most standard. To start, one specifies a sauce: mild (sweet and well-spiced, perfect for the beginner) or hot (zesty and substantial, with a kick in the back of the throat). Then, meat. The pork ribs ($11.90/platter) are the most popular: a generous heap of ribs, meaty and tender, have substance and texture without being gristly. Beef ribs ($13.90) fall off the bone, and the chicken ($10.90) is smoky and moist.
Sides are generously ladled into the two side pockets of the Styrofoam container; among the best and most popular are the baked macaroni and cheese (a golden-cheese crust crowns a disconcertingly homemade taste), the collard greens (warm and tender in a light vinegary broth), and "Mom's" cornbread (fluffy and slightly sweet, a stable foil for the spice of the sauce). Other, more-than-respectable options include the potato salad, coleslaw, red beans and rice and black eyed peas. For the sweet tooth, the candied yams, buttery and velvety in a pool of sugar and cinnamon, provide a satisfying finish vaguely reminiscent of pumpkin pie.
Simple and fulfilling, the proof is in the, uh, pork. And though plastic is the form of flatware, it's not accepted as payment; it's cash only to get your comfort food fix.
