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If you were headed to Seattle, you'd know to pack an umbrella. And if South Beach was on your weekend itinerary, sunscreen in your dop kit would be a no-brainer. But is there anything special one ought to bring along for a weekend of down South carousing in Memphis, Tennessee?

Ah yes, clever traveller: Don't forget your dental floss.

You may come to this music-filled Mississippi River town to hear the blues of B.B. the King, the lore of Elvis the King, and the gospel shout outs for the King of Kings, but the repeated refrain of any truly hardcore weekend in Memphis should be endless samplings of the city's culinary king: barbecued pork ribs in all their toothsome, gingivital splendor.

Memphis is a town to gnaw your way through, rib bone by crisp-browned rib bone. Whether checking out the pleasantly low-key tourist district surrounding downtown's legendary Beale Street, or driving through ramshackle residential areas with old-fashioned shop signs that appear to have been unchanged since the 1950s, you can suddenly find your self engulfed in a warm cloud of ash-free hickory smoke and lured into one of the city's hundreds of barbecue joints (Mind your P's and BBQ's: local protocol disdains the word "restaurant" in conjunction with ribs).

A rule of thumb for choosing your joints: Fear not. Other than at the local McDonalds' franchises—which were audaciously promoting boneless McRib sandwiches during a recent weekend—you pretty much can't lose. As it does with its music, Memphis takes its traditional cooking extremely seriously; there's too much competition—No, wrong way of thinking!—there's too much earnest love of the craft for slackers or short-cutting imitators to survive.

This matter of good tunes wherever there's live music on the bill and good eating wherever barbecue is advertised can make for an extremely kicked back weekend: no extensive research required, no maniacal following of guidebook checklists. Need a suggestion? Just ask the good people of Memphis, who will draw you into a drawling conversation that—while perhaps seeming like it will go on forever—will be as friendly as you could wish for and will surely yield some good advice.

Nonetheless, if you insist on feeling like you're on the barbecue tip before you arrive, think about checking out these hot spots (Instead of a slab, order the typically available 2-4 rib portions, small enough to let you hit a couple spots in a row for comparison):

The Cozy Corner (745 N. Parkway, 901-527-9158) in a shanty-like retail strip on the outskirts of town is a barebones, stripped down Walker Evans photograph come to life. There's rec room panelling, ancient blue vinyl booths, and a vinegary tang to the thin, haunting sauce that tingles on the lips even after you're done eating. Because Cozy Corner is the real thing, it proudly boasts a hand-lettered sign that screams "No French Fries!" The official rib side dishes throughout Memphis are coleslaw, baked beans, mac and cheese, occasionally potato salad, and, always, soft slices of Wonder Bread; A billboard displays huge versions of the multi-colored Wonder dots above the city like a private municipal constellation.

While pork ribs are considered the avatar of Memphis barbecue—and are the only item judged in the weekly Memphis Flyer's annual taste-off—pulled pork (shredded, like on a BBQ sandwich), beef ribs, and barbecued bologna sandwiches (one thick, blubbery slice topped with slaw on a burger bun, eminently skippable) are generally available. Cozy Corner, however, has also found fame for its innovative barbecued Cornish hens: plump, saucy and moist throughout.

After sampling the Corner's lip-slicking wet delicacies and applying a moist towelette or three, head east to Willingham's (680 W. Brookhaven Circle, 901-767-7727) for the flipside of Memphis 'cue—ribs that are rubbed with a dry coating of seasonings that can include chiles, cumin and a variety of herbs, then slow-cooked in wood smoke for up to 24 hours (every joint has its own ingredients and methodologies, closely guarded as trade secrets). The instructional advantage of dry ribs is that you can concentrate on the hauntingly elusive flavor of the smoke-infused meat, which is what lets all Memphis barbecue (even the wet, sauce-basted renditions) easily typical chain-restaurant versions, which are all about sauce. Willingham's offers an array of their own bottled sauces on the side, one of which, the "Sweet and Sassy," has chocolate as an unlikely ingredient and adds a surprising richness along the lines of Mexican molé dishes.

Among other stellar barbecue joints is the Rendezvous (52 S. Second Street, 523-2746) which offers sublime dry ribs in walking distance from the tourist attractions of Beale Street, but suffers atmosphere-wise by being a bit of a tourist attraction itself. Interstate BBQ (2265 S. Third, 901-774-2304) is utterly atmospheric, with post-midnight hours on weekends, autographed pictures of soul stars on the walls, gabby waitresses happy to discuss cooking techniques, and a delicious tomato and cumin-rich sauce. The truly daring may want to try barbecued spaghetti (the sliced meat is great, the pasta cooked to falling-apart sogginess), at the Bar-B-Q Shop (1782 Madison, 901-272-1277).

For a barbecue break, nothing in town beats The Fourway Grill (998 Mississippi Boulevard), a decrepit 50-year-old establishment painted a dusty canteloupe color and serving fried chicken with thick, crackling crust and greaseless tender meat. Faintly bitter collard greens and sweet sliced yams are among the best side vegetables. Neck bones are the skull-like frights you'll see locals feasting on at nearby tables. The city's best Southern breakfast is at Brother Juniper's (3515 Walker, 901-324-0144) near the University of Memphis—try frat-boy sized portions of four-cheese grits, wheat-white combo biscuits, and Juniper's trademark potato casseroles.

While a roving barbecue feast makes Memphis a great weekend trip any time of year, you can plant your feet along Beale Street on Friday and Saturday October 1 and 2 and hear the best of Memphis' music scene all in one spot. The Bluestock International Blues Festival features over 100 blues, soul, and R&B acts on15 stages in the heart of the city. Five minutes walk from the banks of the Mississippi River (the history and geography of which can be explored in the exhibits of nearby Mud Island), Beale Street is home to small and large clubs; it's like a more polite version of New Orleans' Bourbon street. The street's biggest spots—B.B. King's (143 Beale, 901-443-8959) and Elvis Presley's Memphis (126 Beale)—are named after natives and feature excellent local musicians with surprisingly minimal schmaltz (Memphis has done a fine job of maintaining its gritty character and resisting Disneyfication). The Center for Southern Folklore (209 Beale, 901-525-3655) offers walking tours of this historic area, chockful of music trivia (Memphis is mentioned in more recorded songs than any other American city) and civil rights history. The Lorraine Motel, 450 Mulberry Street, where Dr. Martin Luther King was assasinated has been rather eerily converted into The National Civil Rights Museum. The Center for Southern also features free afternoon concerts.

Perhaps the most authentic musical evening to be had in Memphis year-round is at an unpromoted hole-in-the-wall called Wild Bill's (1580 Vollintine, 901-726-5473), a chitlin' serving luncheonette by day and an uncompromising juke-joint on Friday and Saturday nights. Next door to an old-fashioned barbershop, the stellar six-piece Hollywood All-Stars slam out gutbucket blues from 10ish to 2ish in a tiny room where about 60 feverish fans sit shoulder to shoulder at long tables when they're not dancing up front (One thing to love about Memphis-style clubbing; there's almost always seating, so you don't have to stay on your feet all night). The cover is a mere $5 and the beers are quart-bottles for $3.25 (If you want to make like a local, order Champale). For fine live modern rock, retro swing, and a great pool room hit the friendly, spacious Hi-Tone (1913 Poplar, 901-278-8663).

Pop history buffs will certainly want to devote a half day to Sun Studios (706 Union Ave., 901-521-0664) and Graceland (3734 Elvis Presley Boulevard, 901-332-3322). The Sun tour is hardly a tour at all, since the almost disappointingly authentic venue is little more than a tiny office, an acoustic-tiled studio, and an off-limits control room. Still, its a thrill when your guide stands you next to a piano once pounded by Jerry Lee Lewis and a microphone that Jerry's cousin Elvis crooned into and plays original session tapes by those two as well as Carl Perkins, Roy Orbison, Howlin' Wolf and U2, who recorded in the very room where you stand. After watching older women weep over their teenybop memories (for real, it happens all the time) step into the adjoining café where Elvis' favorite grilled peanut butter and banana sandwich will set you back a mere $3.25.

You can take a free shuttle from Sun to Graceland, where a well-organized, if astonishingly whitewashed, tour will boggle your mind with the impact of Elvis Presley's music and movie careers (once the highest paid movie actor in the world, he also recorded 75 gold and silver albums in a rock, country, and gospel career that spanned three decades) as well as with his spectacularly bad taste (The living quarters' Jungle Room features deep piled green shag carpeting—on the walls and ceiling as well as the floor). After spending much time on Presley's philanthropic and charitable deeds and avoiding any mention of his chemical excesses, the official audiotour somberly announces that in 1977 "a heart attack claimed his life." Despite all the official smoothing of the rough spots, Graceland's excellent 20 minute film presentation of clips from Elvis' movie, TV and concert performances is a convincing testament to Presley's star power. At his height—studly, charismatic, and a natural performer—this was a guy any girl would want to date and any guy would want to be.

Still singing live most Sundays at the Full Gospel Tabernacle (787 Hale Road, 901-396-9192), a pentecostal church just a few miles from Graceland, is the Reverend Al Green, also known as the soul singer Al Green, whose slinky hits "Let's Stay Together" and "Put A Little Love in Your Heart" (with Annie Lennox) represent the profane side of a man who took to the pulpit of his church in 1979, and currently mixes his preaching gig with casino concerts and a recent guest spot on Ally McBeal. As many as half of the congregants at Sunday services are out-of-town visitors, but that doesn't keep inhibit the faithful from a roofraising 11 a.m. ceremony replete with a rousing hand-clapping choir, four-piece rhythm section, melodramatic personal testimonies, and, yes, speaking in tongues. Exciting, fascinating and maybe even inspiring. Not to be missed.

If you need to counterbalance your church with a little sin, take the opportunity to make your Memphis visit into a three state swing. Just 20 minutes south of town is Tunica, Mississippi, with 9 attractive 24-hour casinos that seem less noisy, smoky, and hyperactive than Vegas or Atlantic City. Drive ten minutes over the Mississippi into West Memphis, Arkansas and hit the Southland Greyhound Park (Intersection of I-40 and I-55, 800-467-6182) for the novel excitement of dog racing and local afficionadoes who'll think nothing of showing you the ropes and offering some tips.

For souvenirs, you'll want to hit the 123-year-old A. Schwab general store (163 Beale), where locals and tourists mix to buy everything from hardware and toiletries, to 99 cent neckties and jars of pickled watermelon rind. They also have really cool Elvis junk for much less than at Graceland. Your other option is to make a quick stop at Corky's in the Memphis airport terminal, where you can get one last order of really fine ribs to go (Corky's in-town location tied for first in this year's Memphis Flyer taste test) and live pre-flight music in the early evenings. Now that's a fine Southern send-off.