About 8 or so years ago, an old, ornery Black man started smoking ribs and chicken at the back of the Rhythm Room to sell to customers. The meat was salty, tangy, and delicious. RR management basically ran him off, stole his recipes and brought in Randy and co. If left to Corritore, the evolution of the Blues in Phoenix will have the same fate - no resemblance of it's rich heritage - just drunk suburbanites pantomizing and living out their fantasy. Without soul however, Gumbo is just chicken soup.