We already considered ourselves lucky to have a very good southeastern-style BBQ a couple of minutes away, especially since our village is so small there are not that many restaurants, and some more common food varieties are not represented at all. But we didn't know just how BBQ-blessed we really are until yesterday when we hit the jackpot in our visit to the RoundUp Smoked BBQ Restaurant, which is all of 20 minutes away. As they note, this places it about an hour north of Manhattan, but it also seems to be some sort of portal directly into the heart of Texas, with some of the finest wood-smoked BBQ I've ever had, regardless of relationship to the Mason-Dixon Line. We had beef ribs, chicken, and some incredible brisket, as well as smoked chicken wings that were mind-boggling. As for authentic atmosphere, the dining area had picnic tables and beer in an ice chest in the middle of the room, and your food is served in Styrofoam trays from a trailer through a window. We'll nose around for the back story at some future visit, but we presume this all came straight from Texas, as the owner's accent and hospitality were just as authentic as the food. It's not readily apparent what would motivate someone to bring such a bounty to a bunch of Yankees, but I'm not looking a gift steer in the mouth.

Links:	Thanks Ant and Mike Martinez and Acleacius.
Play:	Tetravalanche.
Links:	Top 10 cities people want to live in. Life-Size Monopoly House.
Stories:	John Lennon 'would chuckle' over commemorative plaque. Most other dead less amused. Bomb Squad Defuses Box Full of Kittens. Thanks Neatorama.
Science:	Dogs recognise their owner's face. Gunnar-man watches us like we're TV. Moon's 'treasure chest' includes silver.
Images:	LegaMan. MEGATRON. The Greatest Jack-o-Lantern Ever. Thanks Kenn.
Media:	A Pretty Good Approximation. A Sweet Costume. The Wet-Dog Shake - The physics behind wet dog shaking.
Follow-up:	FoxTrot.