Enter the bright idea of calling the telephone number of the distribution center which is printed on the bottle. After a quick phone call, I was able to secure cases of sauce at a time. (We go through at least a case a year, and for the last couple of years have had a case sent to my son in San Francisco.) I’ve been able to do this for many years, thus ensuring a steady sauce supply for all of my grilling needs.
Two weeks ago, I noticed that I was down to my last bottle of Rudolph’s. Time to call the distributor. However, this year when I made my call, I was informed that I could no longer purchase Rudolph’s from them. Seems my two cases a year was not enough business to justify having me as a customer. I had to own a grocery store in order to get a line on the sauce.
In a panic, I sent out word on Facebook. My son replied back with “OH, NO!” I could see my baby back rib days drawing to an abrupt close. Then what? I'm too old and spoiled to get out the chemistry set and experiment with sauce making, plus I have no time for it. Rudolph’s withdrawals? I'll go mad, "mad," I say! Take a not-so-quick road trip to alleviate my craving? I had an offer from a friend in western Wisconsin to travel to Minnesota to get the sauce for me. I could see it: “Cheesehead Makes Trek to Wobegon to Score Sauce. Film at 11.”
Fortunately, I didn’t have to go quite that far. As I’ve said many times, the Internet is a wonderful thing. Through an impassioned email to the restaurant, I received word back that Rudolph’s is selling and shipping their own sauce! And, it was $10 cheaper than the last time I ordered through Big Distribution Company.
My case of sauce arrived safely from Minnesota yesterday. Today I’m going to celebrate by slathering it on some form of meat.
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