It is with heavy heart I report that Lucille's, brand new to Phoenix, does not live up to its hype. \n\nFor shame this place could boast such fine decor, beautiful menus, and pleasant hospitable staff and then char the short ribs to the bone, inedible. If it wasn't for the thick sliced, juicy, fried green tomato appetizer I'd call the place a total bust. The flaky warm biscuits were nice with the honeyed sweet butter, but I know Bisquick when I taste it and I'm sure I've made these before at home. We had high hopes ordering up some blackened catfish, baby back ribs, beef brisket, chicken halves, greens, cheesy grits, garlic mashed potatoes, and a kids meal for the little one with fresh watermelon. First round was the wonderful mason jar drinks, Strawberry lemonade was sweet, fresh and thirst quenching, our muddy waters made with sweet tea and porch lemonade were good enough for three refills a piece. You'll understand however that the refills just had to keep comin' when I explain how the main course turned out.\n\nFirst they served up the catfish. I could hardly see the fillet behind the nearly three cups of potatoes. When I did taste it I realized this wasn't a blackened catfish this was a water filled thin sliced sponge someone left in the charcoal pile. No wonder it was hidden by the taters. Unfortunately, they were a mass of stickiness with dried chives. I didn't find a hint of butter, or garlic for that matter. My partner is Irish through and through and was dismayed. We didn't even bother putting black pepper on them or finishing them at all. I was excited to try the cheesy grits though. My first fork pulled out a warm melting bite and so I offered some to the little one, with some greens to broaden her Northern palate. The greens were fine, but lacking in the advertised apple-wood smoked bacon. It was more like a chicken bouillon broth. She opted not to have more of either. When I went to have more grits the mixture had cooled and was more of a 4th grade science project than a good feeling.\n\nThen came the meat platter. The chickens looked delectable and I quickly separated the meats from the bone. The dark meats were juicy, but the skin slipped off in a greasy way. The white meat was far too dry for my taste, but fortunately there were three bottled sauces we could mix together to dredge it through. Of course I believe that in a good BBQ the meat can stand on its own and you shouldn't have to dredge it in sauce to enjoy it. The brisket stood on its own. In fact it probably stood all by its lonesome out on a counter for an hour before it reached our table. Maybe cooking it in a bag instead of a dehydrator would have been a smarter method. Then came the hope of the evening, the lump of coal left to taste was apparently five baby back ribs. I had to saw them apart with a knife to free them from the creosote. The limited meat was not even worth trying to eat despite the three table sauces expertly blended to perfection waiting nearby. We tossed it back on the plate with the bones in disgust.\n\nMy daughter couldn't determine if her fries were fries or potato chips or onion straws, she decided she didn't really want them. The macaroni and cheese side was a small serving of elbow macaroni which seemed buttered lightly. Her standard is no name instant, the kind you used to buy 5 for a dollar and she was wondering where the cheese was. If I hadn't allowed the poor thing to eat the rest of the biscuits she would have gone home hungry. I will never understand how you can serve a watermelon that isn't juicy. The fruit is 90% water, but hers was an anemic example with seeds. For sure, the place had some fine appetizers and the desserts looked absolutely divine, but we were done before we even got to them and the check was already too high to consider salvaging the meal with a one pound apple pie slice. I cringed when they dropped off a comment card, but in the end I did the right thing and filled it out fair. When I want a great BBQ I think I'll be sticking to BobbyQ's where the St. Louis ribs are rubbed right and then bathed in a sauce you can't stop lickin' and where they send you home with beignets even if you don't order any, courtesy of the house.