They might eat cheese from a can, but the Americans can barbecue the world's best ribs
It’s time to banish memories of charred sausages with a plateful of succulent smoked pork ribs cooked the all-American way.
It was 20 years ago this month that I found myself in a small tent in a large field near Lynchburg, Tennessee, with my right hand raised before me, solemnly swearing ‘to objectively and subjectively evaluate each barbecue meat that is presented to my eyes, my nose, my hands and my palate’.
I was not alone. Because all around me, 100 Southern accents solemnly incanted the same mantra, some with their eyes closed, as if in hushed benediction to the Lord. ‘I accept my duty to be an official Kansas City Barbeque Society (KCBS) Certified Judge,’ we went on, ‘so that truth, justice, excellence in barbecue and the American way of life be strengthened and preserved forever. Amen.’
Proof, if proof be needed, that American barbecue is more carnivorous cult than mere cooking technique.
As Lolis Eric Elie writes in Smokestack Lightning, barbecue is ‘a metaphor for American culture in a broad sense. Barbecue alone encompasses the high-and-lowbrows, the sacred and the profane, the urban and the rural, the learned and the unlettered...’ And entry into the KCBS, this most prestigious of barbecue associations, is strictly controlled.
An entire day’s training was required before I was allowed anywhere near the judges’ table at the Jack Daniel’s World Championship Invitational Barbecue, the Champions League of professional ‘que’.
Meats were to be scored on appearance, taste and tenderness. Rules were strict (‘the only garnish allowed is green-leaf lettuce, common curly parsley and cilantro’) and standards exacting (‘I will stay silent and maintain a neutral body language while I and the others at my table are judging’). This was a process that made judging Olympic gymnastics, say, or the Nobel Peace Prize, look positively slipshod in comparison.
'In the USA, barbecue is a noun as well as a verb'
Barbecue, in the USA, is all about the slow and low — tough cuts of meat smoked over indirect heat — and is a noun as well as a verb. Grilling, on the other hand, is what we know as BBQ over here and sees mainly innocent cuts of meat cruelly carbonised over direct heat. And although entire volumes can be filled on the regional idiosyncrasies of different barbecue styles (whole hog versus Boston butt; sliced rather than pulled; dry and wet rubs; vinegar- or mustard-based sauce; hickory over oak- or applewood), I want to talk about ribs. Because there is something gloriously primal about gnawing meat off a bone.
Give me spare ribs, large, flat and meaty, hewn from the lower portion of the ribcage; St Louis style (basically trimmed spare ribs) and baby back, the smallest, shortest and, for me, sweetest of them all.
My first taste was way back in the 1980s, at The Chicago Rib Shack in London’s Knightsbridge, where, with plastic bib tied around neck, things got merrily messy. It’s a memory heavily seasoned with nostalgia, just like the ribs at Sweeney Todd’s in Bath, the final feast before trudging back off to prep school the next day. But it was in America where love turned into obsession.
I want dry-rub Memphis ribs, scented with paprika, or Kansas City style, slathered in sweet, tangy sauce. Give me west Texan beef ribs, cooked over mesquite and naked, save salt and pepper, and eastern Carolina baby backs, with a sharp, thin, spicy sauce. I crave the woody tang, the chewy bark (or outer layer) and that slim layer of pink just below, proof that smoke has permeated flesh. The quest for the perfect rib is eternal. The joy, as ever, lies in the trying.
Proper ribs
This comes from my book Let’s Eat and is the result of many sauce-stained, dry-rub-crusted experiments. The best way to cook proper ribs is on a dedicated smoke or a Bradley smoker, which runs on wood briquettes, but it works equally well on a Weber Kettle charcoal grill.
Ingredients
Serves 4–6
500ml cider vinegar
2kg baby back pork ribs, membrane removed
500ml BBQ sauce of choice (I love the Memphis-style Hot Smoky from Lillie’s Q or Hot ’n’ Smoky BBQ Sauce from South Devon Chilli Farm; www.southdevonchillifarm.co.uk)
For the dry rub
2 tbspn hot paprika
2 tbspn ground black pepper
2 tbspn sea salt
1 tspn cayenne pepper
2 tbspn muscovado sugar
2 tbspn garlic powder
2 tbspn onion powder
Method
• Mix nine litres of water with the 500ml vinegar, then soak the ribs in this mixture, covered and in the fridge, for one hour. Drain and dry with kitchen paper
• For the dry rub, mix all the ingredients together, then rub the mixture into the ribs (reserving the rest for later). Wrap in foil and leave in the fridge overnight
• If using a kettle barbecue, pile charcoal on one side of the base of the barbecue, and put an old small roasting tin filled with water on a couple of bricks on the other side
• Light the charcoal and heat until the coals are white hot. Sit the ribs, wrapped in the foil, on a rack over the water. Cover the barbecue with a lid, with the smoke holes half open. Use these holes to regulate the temperature, so when it begins to drop close the vents and open them when it gets very hot. Cook for three hours — you will need to top up the charcoal about every 40–60 minutes
• Rub the ribs with the remaining spice rub, rewrap in the foil and return to the barbecue for another two to three hours, until tender, topping up the charcoal from time to time. An hour before the end of the cooking time, open the foil and baste the ribs with barbecue sauce. When ready, the ribs should pull apart easily; the meat should not be falling off the bone, but will come off cleanly when tugged by the teeth
