Monday, May 08, 2006

Stab Me with an Icicle

I have a weakness for bar-b-que.

That is not to say that I am a connoisseur of bar-b-que or that I even like it. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, and by stating this I run the risk of losing my Texas citizenship, bar-b-que is OK.

That’s it. Just OK. Not great or wonderful or “to die for”. Just OK as in if there’s something else going like, say, squid eye soup, I’ll take the soup.

So, my weakness for bar-b-que is that I’m not proficient at cooking it. Like my lust for bar-b-que I’m OK.

To my rescue came Shane of The Backyard Series and a serious bar-b-quer who sent me a collection of “dry rubs” and sauces.

Following Shane’s instructions to a T-bone I applied the rubs, granted the ribs the correct amount of season time, cooked them with loving care and basted them regularly.

I must say that Shane’s Ribs came out better than anything I had ever attempted in the past, including the:

Night of the Black Ribs

Unfortunate Class 9 Too-Spicy-to-Eat Ribs

Bone Dry Ribs

What’s That Smell? Ribs

and the classic You’ve Got to Be Kidding! Ribs.

Shane’s Ribs became the Yummy Let’s Do This Again Ribs.

And, with all that in mind came tonight’s conversation at Kroger’s. Let’s listen in:

“Oh, look, ribs are on sale. Let’s have ribs tonight!”

“Yes, let’s!” (I’m thinking, OK, dry rub, sit for an hour and wet mop with Shane’s sauce every 10 minutes for 2 hours. Dinner at 8:30. Yes, can do.)

(upon arriving home)

“Be a sweetie and put the grill on, please.”

“Well, hang on, I need to get the dry rub on the ribs and all that stuff before I fire up the grill.”

“Uh, dry rub?” Wrinkles nose.

“Yeah, like I did last time, dry rub, mopping, ribs. You know.”

“Ah, yes. I do know. Tell you what, I’ll do the ribs tonight.”

“But, but, but remember the last time? You said they were the best ribs you had ever eaten? What about that?”

“What I said was they were the best ribs you had ever cooked. They were hardly the best ribs I have ever eaten.”

Ouch! Take that icicle and shove it right in my heart why don’t you. Just hammer it in. Doesn’t hurt a bit. Nope. Just whack, whack, whack.

Shane! Come back, Shane!

I spent the rest of the evening looking up recipes for squid eye soup.

1 comment:

Shane said...

Ouch! As soon as the weapon melts, plug the hole in your chest with some gauze soaked in two parts butter, one part hog lard, and 67 parts Payne County Rust! Happy BBQ'ing!