The Barbecue Diary – part 5
Ricky Ginsburg (former head cook of The Boca Boys)
Ribs…even the sound of the word tastes good. Ribs…say it and you get hungry.
I’ve taken what looks like the two best slabs of ribs from the Backwoods and laid them out to rest in a prep tray. We stare at them like schoolboys viewing a centerfold. That deep brown color glistening in the sun with a light glaze of barbecue sauce and that smell, that incredible smell that seduces your most vulnerable of senses. (I love the smell of barbecue in the morning.) Forget the contest for a moment; we’ve got to try these ribs. I cut 2 nice ribs from the center of the rack and we gnaw on them like wolves. They taste even better than they smell and they’re as tender as you can get a rib without having it fall off the bone. We have got ourselves a winner!
Out of the 9 racks of loin backs, well… make it 8 racks now, I’ve got to get eight perfect Cadillac cuts for the waiting judges. Having judged a number of contests, I know that judges live for ribs so there’s no sense giving them anything but the meatiest rib you can cut. Two of the slabs have so many shiners that I can see my face in them. That’s ok, I’m still hungry. I start carving with the same lucky knife that has given us both a “DAL” in brisket and ribs over the years, but I still trust it. I’ve seen some teams carve up their ribs into 15 or 20 pieces and then pick and choose over those to fill the box with the eight best ones. I fill as I cut. I figure the less amount of time they sit out in the open the slighter the chance that I will snatch one and start eating and forget about the time…
The time? What is the time? Four minutes to twelve??? And there are only 2 ribs in the box!
The next slab I cut into doesn’t look completely cooked. Back into the smoker. And the next one has some really weird shaped bones. Into the lunch pile. I luck out on the next rack and get 3 perfect ribs for the box; only 3 more and we’re done. It’s now one minute to twelve. I go back to the first rack we cut as a test and find one more rib good enough for the box. From one of the shiner racks I cut a meaty one and we touch it up with some sauce. (Tell me you’ve never done that in a contest and I’ll buy you a beer!) The last rib is cut from the center of the last rack we’ve got to work with, the box is wiped clean of barbecue sauce and I trot off towards the turn-in table with under a minute to go.
I guess I’m not alone in my hesitation to give up my ribs as
two other head cooks are right behind me, coming in at that the last minute.
The reps call out to us to hurry; we’re the last three teams they’ve been
waiting for and it’s now 5 minutes after
… to be continued.
Next installment