When I come to a place, I really like to get into the spirit of the place.  This manifests itself in various ways; my insistence on eating Sabrett hot dogs and thin-crust pizza while watching a Yankee game when I am in New York City (I know, I am a man of simple pleasures), drinking cappuccinos when in Rome, and doing Bikram Yoga to get in touch with my... whatever... in Berkeley.  So now that I am in Memphis, I have this idea in my head that I should be eating like Elvis Presley.  Which would be fine if I were just going to be here for a weekend - two months is a different story.  Last semester, I participated in a house " Biggest Loser " contest in which about eight of us in the house competed to see who could lose the most weight within the span of two months.  And after exercising almost every day and sneaking Cold Stone Creamery coupons underneath the doors of my competitors, I actually ended up coming in second... I know clergy aren't supposed to put themselves in a position where they are considered sexy, but if people all of a sudden stop to appreciate the wonder of God's majesty just because I have been on a health kick, how can I be held responsible for the public's natural reaction?  Then the contest ended... afterwards let's just say that I was less committed.  I never did let myself go completely though, so when I arrived in Memphis I might have been mistaken for the "G.I." Elvis who wowed the girls on Ed Sullivan and married Priscilla.  After two months of my Memphis diet though,  I will most likely leave this town looking more like the "John Goodman" Elvis who would have married Rosanne.  During my first day at St. Patrick's Church, I began wondering what I should do for lunch.  We're blocks away from Beale Street; I'm wondering if it might be a little too "touristy" when a friend from Arizona, at that exact moment, e-mails me to let me know about this old soda-fountain in the back of this local pharmacy on Union Ave.  Wiles-Smith is a pharmacy where Marty McFly would not look out of place; I order a "Cherry Joe" at the counter in the back and... the woman behind the counter showed me a book that has the recipe in it.  The shake has VODKA in it... seriously.  It almost makes celibacy tolerable.    Gus's Fried Chicken (lunch two days later) looks exactly like a place you would think a place named "Gus' Fried Chicken" would look like. For the past fifteen years of my life, I have been telling people that when I went on a Spring Break Outreach trip during college to Jackson, Mississippi, I ate at a restaurant that served fried pickles.  Because I have never since seen fried pickles on any menu since, I would regularly tell people that I had once eaten them; it's kind of like how the early apostles would tell everyone they ever encountered about meeting Jesus - yes it was to share with others, but it was also in part to remind themselves that what they had experienced was real.   Well, on the menu of Gus' Fried Chicken is fried pickles; my life has indeed come full circle.  The friend who took me told me that Maxim magazine rated Gus's one of the ten places in the world worth flying to just to dine here.  While I sometimes disagree on their picks for hottest women in the world (Paris Hilton is... not... sexy), on this count those metro-sexual editors are right on the money.    Believe it or not, I had my first BBQ yesterday, ironically at the halfway mark of my stay here.  Part of it was pressure - everybody says where the best "Q" is, and... it's a lot of pressure to pick THE BEST BBQ.  I have received four e-mails so far on the topic and none of the selections have overlapped.  Finally, the decision was made for me when some of the staff from St. Patrick's took me out to lunch to (drumroll) Neely's.  They had a platter of BBQ samples fit for two... they had a platter of BBQ samples fit for two.  One reader originally from Memphis gave me a list of places to eat, and ever since I    received that e-mail I have been planning my trip to Big Mama's Soul Food in West Memphis, Arkansas.  I have never been to Arkansas, so this trip will be a two-fer; a quest to eat a  pork-chop sandwich    and to check off yet another item on the states visited checklist.  I drove across the Mighty Mississippi this week and realized that I was wearing my New York Yankees ballcap; realizing that I was entering a less cosmopolitan area I got self-conscious and took it off (although I suspect the gig will be up the first time I would ask for a cup of "caw-fee").  I got the map from Google for Big Mama's - the name sounds great, and I have to say, it IS different in West Memphis.  There is so much touristy stuff in Memphis and it is built up, but driving over the river feels more... "To Kill A Mockingbird."  There are barely any chains out here, just the kind o place you would expect to find a place called "Big Mama's."  I got there AND... it was closed.  I don't believe in emoticons, but...  :(  When I say closed, I mean closed UP.  For good.  I had been focusing on this pork-chop sandwich for three weeks now and Big Mama's is closed.  Forever.  I am a man of faith but... I guess the finite aspect of life is why we go to church.     I drive across the border and find my way to a place called the Arcade Diner.  We have diners out east, so at first I was a little reluctant but I eventually decided to check it out.  I grab a booth and open a menu.  Salads?  Please.  That's that rabbit food that all of those Northeastern Kerry voters... uhhh... anyway... is that brie also on the menu?  WTF?  Oh wait a minute, Baltimore is going through this thing too, where white people who have been reading too much "Chicken Soup For The Soul" take a classic greasy spoon and make it safe for the yuppies.  :(  I had heard at one point that this was Elvis' favorite place, but even I am having trouble picturing him ordering a Portobello Mushroom Sandwich with an Perier.  Tragic... but further down the menu, sanity is restored.  Biscuits and gravy - now THAT'S southern food!  This will help me recover from my misbegotten pork-chop sandwich adventure.  I see that they also have grits on the menu, but I draw a line at grits... I still have my Yankee hat in the car.