I like to eat. It's a matter of conviction: God called into being a very good creation, providing for our nutrition not with a tasteless gray sludge but in a riot of textures, flavors, smells, and combinations. What's not to like?

Whenever I travel anywhere and am asked what I’d like to eat while there, I always ask for something that’s considered typical for that region. As a result, over the years I’ve tried some things—most were delicious—that aren’t found on many menus in the upper Midwest where we live. I’ve had BBQ dry-rubbed ribs in Memphis, TN; frog legs in Murfreesboro, TN; lobster on Nantucket Island; Smazeny Syr (fried cheese) in Prague; bangers, mash, and a pint of ale in a pub in London; roast wild boar in Bratislava, Slovakia; a delicate venison stew in Budapest; fried mush in Lexington, KY; cheese grits and boiled peanuts in Jackson, MS; soft shell crab in Annapolis, MD; a Plowman’s lunch in Greatham, England; and the finest tiramisu we’ve ever eaten purchased off the back of a pizza truck in Vence, France.

This past week, as we drove around Chattanooga, TN while visiting our five above average grandchildren, we kept passing a place called Memo’s. We never had time to stop, so am wondering what we’ve missed. What, exactly, is the relation of the chopped wieners to the pit BBQ—and what are they? Would love to know what they’re like.