Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Pigs in America: A History

The pig dates back 40 million years to fossils which indicate that wild porcine animals roamed forests and swamps in Europe and Asia. Remains of the earliest known North American peccary, Perchoerus, are from late Eocene sediments dating from 37 million years ago in North America. But it's the domesticated pig that holds our interest. Pigs were domesticated in China around 4900BC (although some experts claim 7000 to 6000BC in Western Asia) and were being raised in Europe by 1500BC. The Romans improved pig breeding and spread pork production throughout their empire. Two main types were developed: one breed was large, with floppy ears, and produced copious amounts of lard, while the other was of a smaller frame, with erect ears, used primarily for meat.

Jewish religious law banned the eating of pork before 1000BC, based on a belief that pigs were unclean since they ate waste, and there was the fear of disease (no doubt associated with contracting trichinosis from eating improperly cooked pork or the belief that pork meat didn't last long before "going off"); don't forget that nomadic cultures are not as suited to pigs as they are to cattle, sheep, or camels. Early Christians also shunned pork, but by around AD50 those restrictions were relaxed. Muhammad also banned the consumption of pork, resulting in a severe decline in the pig population of the Middle East and Western Asia. Europe, being principally Christian, embraced the pig: Swine ate anything, reproduced prodigiously, and their meat was easily preserved. By the 1500's in Europe, the Celtic people in the north were breeding large-bodied, well-muscled pigs, while in Southern Europe, the Iberians had developed smaller-framed, lard-type pigs. All of the pigs of this time period were dark-colored.

At Queen Isabella's insistence, Christopher Columbus took eight pigs on his voyage to Cuba in 1493. They were tough and could survive the voyage with minimal care, they supplied an emergency food source if needed, and those that escaped provided meat for hunting on return trips. But Hernando de Soto was the true "father of the American pork industry." He brought America's first 13 pigs to Tampa Bay, Fla., in 1539. As the herds grew, explorers used the pigs not only for eating as fresh meat but for salt pork and preserved pork. American Indians were reportedly so fond of the taste of pork that attacks to acquire it resulted in some of the worst assaults on the expedition. By the time de Soto died three years later, his original herd of 13 pigs had grown to 700 – a very conservative estimate. This number doesn't include the pigs eaten by his troops, those that escaped and became wild pigs (the ancestors of today's feral pigs), and those given to the American Indians to keep the peace. The pork industry in America had begun.

As an interesting tidbit, the feared buccaneers of the Caribbean derived their name from the Arawak Indian word buccan, referring to a wooden frame used for smoking meats. The French changed this to boucan and called the French hunters who used these frames to cook and preserve feral cattle and the offspring of Columbus' pigs on the island of Hispaniola boucanier. English colonists anglicized the word to buccaneers.

Pig production spread rapidly through the new colonies. Cortés introduced hogs to New Mexico in 1600 while Sir Walter Raleigh brought sows to Jamestown colony in 1607. Semi-wild pigs ravaged New York colonists' grain fields to the extent that every pig of 14 inches or more in height that was owned by a colonist was required to have a ring in its nose to make it easier to control. On Manhattan Island, a long solid wall to exclude rampaging pigs was constructed on the northern edge of the colony; it created the name for the area now known as Wall Street. By 1660 the pig population of Pennsyl­vania Colony numbered in the thousands. By the end of the 1600s, the typical farmer owned four or five pigs, supplying salt pork, ham, and bacon for his table; any surplus was sold as "barreled pork" (pork meat preserved in salted brine, contained in wooden barrels). Finishing pigs before slaughter on American Indian corn became popular in Pennsylvania, setting the new standard for fattening before the late fall pork harvest.

At the end of the 1700s, pioneers started heading west, taking their utilitarian pigs with them. Wooden crates filled with young pigs often hung from the axles of prairie schooner wagons. As western herds increased, processing and packing facilities began to spring up in major cities. Pigs were first commercially slaughtered in Cincinnati, which became known as "Porkopolis"; by the mid 1800s Cincinnati led the nation in pig processing. Getting the pigs to market in the 1850s was no small task. Drovers herded their pigs along trails, with the aid of drivers who handled up to 100 pigs each. It is estimated that between 40,000 and 70,000 pigs were driven from Ohio to eastern markets in any given year. A herd could travel 5-8 miles a day and covered total distances up to 700 miles.

In 1887 Swift & Co. introduced the refrigerated railroad car, chilled by a solution of ice and salt (mechanical refrigeration wouldn't appear until 1947). It created a revolution in pig farming: Slaughterhouses could be centralized near production centers since processed pork meat could be shipped instead of live hogs. Large terminal markets developed in Chicago; Kansas City, Mo; St. Joseph, Mo.; and Sioux City, Iowa. Centralized packing plants were located adjacent to the stockyards. The natural progression was for the pork industry to relocate to the Upper Midwest, where the majority of the grain was raised; Corn Belt morphed into Hog Belt. Today Iowa is still the top pork producer in the States.

The trend was for developing herds that produced higher numbers of offspring and pigs that were leaner (resulting in better feed efficiency). Husbandry methods emphasized control of diseases caused by huge factory pig-raising techniques, introducing the use of prophylactic antibiotics. Pork had become "the Other White Meat", and although production was more efficient and cost-effective, the taste was steadily being bred away.

Now the trend is toward a return to the older, fattier, tastier heritage breeds such as the Berkshire, the Red Wattle, the Tamworth, the Large Black, the Mule Foot, the Old Spot, and the Ossabaw (a direct descendant of the original Iberico black-footed hogs imported by the Spaniards to Savannah, Ga., some 400 years ago). Their meat has superior taste and texture, with marbling that retains the moisture of the meat. There is also a greatly increased demand for small farm, pasture-raised, organically grown pigs, and rejection of methods such as water-injection for finished pork. A happier pig is a tastier pig!

Mick Vann © originally published in the Austin Chronicle

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Shaking Beef

It's not about frightened cows or rockabilly bovines, but a famous dish from Vietnam that is one of my all-time faves. It is often included in the Vietnamese classic Bo Bay Mon, or Beef Cooked Seven Ways (Seven Courses of Beef), and you can get it in Austin at both Sunflower and Soleil (which also offers the full Beef 7 Ways), and it is excellent at both places. The version I had a Soleil last week was especially rich and tender. Sometimes you might find it listed as "Vietnamese Beef" on some of the more Americanized menus, if you can find it at all. Following is a great recipe for the dish taken from the cookbook I wrote with Art Meyer: The Appetizer Atlas. It cooks in a couple of minutes and is a fantastic summer dish, or a cool season salad.

Sautéed Beef on Watercress
"Shaking Beef"
Bo Luc Lac

Serves 8 as an appetizer (3 ounces of beef per person), or 3 to 4 as an entree

This warm beef salad gets its colorful name from the action of the beef cubes as they dance in the sizzling oil in the skillet. It is a dish seldom found on Vietnamese restaurants menus in the U.S., and illustrates the French influence on the cuisine of Vietnam by the use of olive oil. In Vietnam this dish is most often served at home as an evening appetizer to accompany drinks, with a small dish of mixed salt and pepper accompanying, to which lemon or lime juice has been added, for dipping the beef cubes.

1 pound lean rib eye or sirloin steak, cut into 1-inch cubes
1 stalk (bottom half) lemongrass, sliced very thin, chopped very finely in an electric spice grinder
1 tablespoon soy sauce
1 tablespoon chile paste, e.g. sambal oelek, or similar
4 garlic cloves, minced
1 tablespoon fish sauce (nuoc mam)
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon vegetable oil

For the Salad:
1 large sweet onion, halved, paper-thin slices (1015Y onions, or similar, are preferred)
1 tablespoon vinegar
1 teaspoon sugar
2 garlic cloves, minced finely
Sprinkling of freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 cups watercress, rinsed, drained, heavy stems removed

Advance Preparation
1, Combine the lemon grass, soy sauce, chile paste, garlic, fish sauce, sugar and 2 teaspoons of the vegetable oil. Mix well.
2. Place the beef cubes in a resealable plastic bag and pour the marinade over the beef cubes, toss well, and allow to marinate for 1 hour.
3. Marinate the onions in the vinegar, sugar, garlic, black pepper and olive oil. Allow the onions to marinate for 1 hour.

Cooking Method
4. Heat the remaining 1 teaspoon of vegetable oil in a small skillet over medium high heat, Add the remaining 2 cloves of garlic and sauté seconds.
5. Add the beef cubes with their marinade. Sauté quickly, searing the outside. Cook medium rare.

Service
6. Toss the watercress with the onion mixture. Pour the hot beef with the pan juices over the watercress salad and serve immediately. Accompany with a small side dish of equal amounts of finely ground sea salt and black pepper to which a small amount of fresh lime or lemon juice has been added.

Chef Notes- Be careful not to burn the garlic when cooking the beef. Add the hot beef immediately before service to prevent the watercress from wilting. Beef or lamb tenderloin may be substituted for the beef ribeye, if seared only to the point of rare. Pork tenderloin may be substituted for the beef if cooked to the point of medium.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Some Philosophy from Kenny Shopsin, Kitchen God:

For those unfamiliar with Kenny Shopsin, I would encourage you to buy/find/borrow a copy of his cookbook- Eat Me: The Food and Philosophy of Kenny Shopsin. And while you're at it, track down the DVD "I Like Killing Flies", a documentary that focuses on Shopsin's, a very unique cafe with a 900-item menu that used to be in Greenwich Village. This guy is my hero, and his philosophy should be glorified by cooks and chefs worldwide.

" In most cases the reason I don't do special requests has to do with the customer's reason for making it. Most of the time when a customer makes a special request, it's not about the food but about his own desire to be in control and to establish his own specialness. Making people feel special through this kind of ass kissing is one of the services that a restaurant can provide to people who need it, but it's not a service that I want to provide. I have been cooking for thirty years and I've got a thousand things on the menu and you're going to take one thing and make it different? Uh-uh. Try it my way for once."

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Brisketology for the BBQ-Challenged:

Beef brisket can be one of the most difficult cuts of meat to cook properly, especially on a barbecue pit. Do it right, and it’s like heaven…do it wrong, and it’s like eating your shoes. Everyone has their secrets on the best way, and brisket secrets are held near and dear, especially by those who excel.

Briskets came into popularity after the decline of the local meat markets, when beef was shipped off to feedlots in boxcars to be fattened, slaughtered, and processed into primal cuts, only to be boxed up, and shipped back. The old time markets were often teamed up with local beef ranchers, as a way for the rancher to market his product, and many of the Texas BBQ joints were started by butchers who were bankrolled (either directly or indirectly) by the ranchers. If you were raising cattle, it only made sense to sell them locally if possible. Back then all anyone wanted to eat were the best cuts: ribeyes and rib roasts, sirloins and strips, porterhouses, and round steaks. Nobody used hamburger yet, so all the leftovers and trimmings were made into sausages, usually smoked sausages, because they had a long shelf life and few folks had refrigeration.

Once the markets changed, beef BBQ was no longer limited to the cuts that nobody wanted: the forequarters and shoulders. There were other cuts to explore. Edgar Black Jr. of Black’s Barbecue in Lockhart, Texas was one of the first to decide that the brisket was a nicely marbled and inexpensive cut to barbecue, and others soon followed in his step. There are still holdouts that stayed with the shoulder clod, but today most of the clod smokers also barbecue briskets. Think of the shoulder clod as the bovine equivalent of the pork shoulder (AKA Boston Butt, shoulder roast). In West Texas they still favor the sirloin, but there’s brisket out west as well. If you’re a clod fanatic, you can skip the 20-pound chunk that is the clod and get a more manageable shoulder roast instead.

If you look at a cow, the brisket is the chest area, between the front legs and up a tad. It gets a lot of exercise from walking, so it’s tough meat. It’s also fatty and loaded with collagen (fibrous connective tissue), which turns gelatinous if you cook it right: low and slow. A brisket is divided into two separate parts or muscles, the “flat” and the “point”, with a layer of fat in the middle that doesn’t render. For barbecue brisket you will want it whole and undivided, and you want a “Packer’s Cut”, meaning it’s untrimmed, with a 1” layer of fat on the top called the fat cap. This fat cap self-bastes the meat while it cooks, helping to keep it moist.

When picking out the brisket that’s right for you, remember that the bigger the brisket, the bigger (and tougher) the cow it came from. A good size is in the 8 to 10-pound range. You want a brisket that is flexible, which simply means it droops down on both sides when you hold it in the middle. Look for the most marbling you can find running through the meat, fat that’s white in color, and deep red meat. It’s going to lose around 35 to 40% of its weight in the cooking process (one reason cooked BBQ brisket isn’t cheap to buy). Trimming of the fat cap ranges from ¼” to 1”. Judge the fat content of the meat to determine how much fat cap you should trim off. Take off too much and the meat will be dry. A lot of folks just leave the whole thing on, and trim it after cooking, but then the area trimmed will have little smoke ring, and no spice crust. You might also want to remove some of the middle fat layer, again, depending on how well-marbled your brisket is.

Most folks cook briskets indirectly at 225 to 250º, and figure about 1½ to 2 hours per pound of starting weight. Make sure that the meat is at room temperature or close to it when you begin. The cut is big and dense, and you should start it out so the center isn’t cold. Brisket marinades tend to be on the acid side, the theory being that the acid will break down connective tissues and help get some flavor inside. Briskets will absorb a lot of smoke as they cook, so be sure to avoid over-smoking syndrome by using burned-down coals only, and never any green wood with briskets. Always cook the brisket fat cap up, so it bastes the meat below as the fat melts.

Always allow the meat to rest at least 15 to 20 minutes after you remove it from the fire, even a little longer is better. Always slice brisket against the grain, in slices that aren’t too thick. If you cooked it right, it’ll be smoky, moist, and flavorful. If you blew it, you have no one but yourself to blame for your cretinous ways.

Mick ©

Friday, June 4, 2010

American Cattle and the Longhorn: A Snapshot

No history of the cattle industry in America can be told without mentioning the major influences of Texas, and the Texas Longhorn. Back in the days before the arrival of the white man, America’s cow was the buffalo (American bison). Texas was the home of the birth of the American beef industry, and the Longhorn was the original genetic melting pot for all of the great American cattle herds.

In 1493, Christopher Columbus brought a small herd of long-horned Spanish cattle to Santa Domingo in the Caribbean. These were cattle of Moorish-Andalusian ancestry, originally from North Africa, and adopted by Spain; they were tough cattle that could handle the ocean passage. These Andalusians (AKA “black cattle”) were occasionally able to escape captivity and go feral, and once in the wild they thrived, growing big-boned, long-legged, lean, and swift, with immense horns providing ominous offensive weapons and defensive protection. They also acquired a reputation as being particularly ornery and clever.

In 1521 Gregorio Villabos imported cows from Santa Domingo into Mexico, and in 1565 Menendez de Aviles brought some of them into Florida. The English, while colonizing North America, brought their native cattle in 1623, and as they moved west and south so did their cattle, pulling wagons and plows and providing milk. Some maintain the big horns, speckled colors, and body types were derived from the Longhorn Herefords of England. Others believe the blue and roan speckled stock reflected early Durham (shorthorn) British influence. The Spanish breeds were represented by drab, earth tone colors.

In 1690, the first herd of about 200 head of cattle was driven northeast from Mexico to a Spanish mission near the Sabine River, in what would later become Texas. The cattle were much better survivors than the priests and the vaquero ranchers who accompanied them, and the cattle escaped domestication, went feral, rapidly multiplied, and became an adapted native species.

In 1821, cattle brought into Texas from North Carolina began to intermingle with the Spanish and English cattle; American Indians had developed their own hybrid cattle from the Spanish and English strains. Many of the first settlers of Texas came from the South to raise cotton, and they brought with them a few cows, mostly of British or hybrid breeds. These cows mixed with the Spanish breeds already in Texas and soon grew into considerable herds. Although “Mexican” cattle of the long-horned variety, known as “Criollo”, provided the basic strain, historian J. Frank Dobie estimated the Texas Longhorns evolved from 80% Spanish influence and 20% mongrel (British hybrid) influence.

These Texas cattle had long legs, lanky bodies, with big, tough feet built for speed. It took a fast horse with a skilled rider to outrun a Texas Longhorn and live to tell about it. They could withstand blizzards, blazing heat, droughts, hail and dust storms, and attacks by predators and Indians. They lost little weight on long trail drives, and could forge fast-flowing rivers. Longhorns weren’t prone to stampede, and were easier to control when they did. They didn’t need large amounts of water to survive and could forage nicely on the native growth. They were prolific breeders, and a strong sense of smell made it easy for the cow to find her calf, which she would ferociously defend.

There was probably no meaner creature in Texas than an upset Longhorn bull. His ancestors were the fighting bulls of Spain, and the slightest provocation would turn him into an aggressive, dangerous, and uncontrollable enemy. His razor sharp horns could measure over eight feet long from tip to tip and could rip open a challenger with ease. They possessed incredible strength, and when two bulls met, a fight to the death often ensued. Only a crafty and well-armed cowboy on a smart mount stood a chance against a Longhorn bull.

As the population of cattle (and people) increased in Texas, small acreage ranchers ranged their cattle primarily on vacant public lands. Truth be told, some ranchers with thousands of head of cattle didn’t own a single acre of land. Some opportunists who moved to Texas invested all their money in cattle and depended on the open range for pasture. If you had no money you could get your start by branding calves “on share” for other ranchers. For every four they branded for the rancher, they got one freebie for their own herd.

J. Frank Dobie, noted Texan humorist, writer, and historian, author of The Longhorn:
“There is a widespread idea, even among people who should know better, that trail driving originated after the Civil War, when a lone Texas herd headed for some vague point 'north of 36.' As a matter of fact, on the very day the Texans whipped the Mexicans at San Jacinto, in 1836, a herd of Texas longhorns from Taylor White's ranch west of the Neches River was trailing for New Orleans. Cattle had been trailed out of Texas before that. Through the 'forties they were trailed north into Missouri and also to Louisiana markets. There is a record of one herd's trailing to New York, about 1850, and through the ‘fifties thousands of steers were driven across the continent to California. The trailing business attained volume and became well organized when in 1867 Abilene, Kansas, opened as a market.”

At the end of the Civil War there were an estimated 5 million cattle in Texas, and many were unclaimed mavericks, just waiting to be branded and claimed by returning soldiers. There were so many cattle in the state that the market was seriously depressed, but up north and back east, cattle were getting top dollar. Cattle started flowing north on the Chisholm, Loving-Goodnight, Shawnee, Abilene, and the Dodge City trails until the market was saturated and the ranges up there were fully stocked with herds. The drives established the cowboy as a folk hero of mammoth proportions, while the big money to be made, general lawlessness, and the lack of brands created his nemesis: the cattle rustler. Between 1866 and 1890, some 10 million cattle were driven on the trails out of Texas. The period between 1870 and 1880 was known as the “Beef Bonanza”.

1873 was an ominous year for the Longhorn…the first patent for barbed wire was issued. By 1885 few of the pure-blooded Longhorns remained in Texas because so many had been sent up the trail, and the residual Longhorns were being crossbred with newer breeds like the Durham and the Hereford from Europe. Around the same time the great trail drives started petering-out due to deeded and fenced property, rail transport, farms and field crops, and rapidly developing towns cluttering the trails. In 1890 the USDA estimated the nation's cattle population at 60 million head, with most of them containing a majority percentage of Texas Longhorn blood.

By 1900 even more European breeds, like the Shorthorn and the Angus, came to the US, and because of the Longhorn’s desirable and excellent mothering ability, the new strains were bred-up to purebreds in this country from a native Longhorn base. Pure Longhorn blood was rapidly being bred out of existence. Tallow, the main ingredient in candles (still the main source of light for most back then) came from rendering animal fat. Soaps, lubricants and cooking also required tallow. Early beef processing plants were called “Hide and Tallow” companies, and meat was merely an economic by-product. All of this cattle migration and mayhem was to produce tallow and leather, not meat. The lean Longhorns rendered 80% less than the other breeds…another reason for the breed’s demise. There were more buffalo in the US than Longhorns at the turn of the century.

By 1930, most of the open range was fenced, highways were going in, fields were plowed, and cattle barons selected their favorite breeds for fatter cattle. Six unique strains of Longhorns had been isolated and bred by individual ranchers who realized their value and feared their loss. In 1927 the U. S. government recognized how close the Longhorns were to extinction, and established a seventh strain (using genetics from the remaining six strains) at wildlife refuges in Oklahoma and Nebraska. In 1931 Sid Richardson, J. Frank Dobie, and Graves Peeler selected and established a herd for the State of Texas. By 1960 there were only 1500 head of pure Longhorns in existence, and 500 of them were in national parks and zoos, the rest were in private herds.

Today Longhorns have bounced back from the brink of extinction. Drive down any rural road in Central Texas and you’ll see small herds of the breed frolicking in pastures and contentedly chewing their cud. Butchers are once more offering Longhorn steaks at specialty gourmet and farmer’s markets. The noble breed from the Lone Star State built the US cattle industry into what it is today, and the nation’s beef eaters and barbecuers, at least in Texas anyway, would be completely lost without it.

Mick Vann ©

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Fun! Food! Facts! Tappan Goes Atomic!

Bill Tappan started his company, the Ohio Valley Foundry Co., in 1881 by selling cast iron stoves door-to-door from a horse-drawn wagon. Known for high quality and craftsmanship, Tappan Stove Company has had several firsts in the history of cooking ranges. In the 1920’s they produced the first enamel-covered stoves (available in several pastel colors), and in the 1960’s Tappan came out with the first electric-ignition burners. The igniters used a principle discovered by brothers Pierre and Jacques Curie in 1880, whereby electricity is generated by compressing quartz crystals. Pierre was hubby to the much more famous Madame Marie Curie, she of the atomic glowing, and discoverer of radioactivity (not to mention the first person to win two Nobel prizes). In 1965, Tappan came out with a deluxe cooking center that was 30-inches wide, the first to combine a conventional range and a microwave together in a single unit. The new age had arrived.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Ribology 101

Pork spareribs come from the chest of the pig, and are attached to the sternum (breastplate) before removal. They are the meatiest of the ribs, and have the most flavor. Back ribs, or “baby” back ribs (AKA loin ribs) come from the central section of the pig, beginning where the sparerib ends, almost connecting to the backbone. They are much less meaty, smaller, less flavorful, more expensive, more tender (but much more likely to be overcooked and dried-out since they have less self-basting fat), and more likely to be glazed with some kind of gloppy sauce. Baby backs are the rib fodder butchered for your neighborhood national chain restaurant menu, and they have nothing to do with the age of the pig. Ribologists avoid these types of restaurants, and their puny rib offerings.


“Country style ribs” aren’t technically really ribs, but are cut from the blade end of the pork loin They do have sections of the blade bone running through them, and come from an area right next to and above the head end of the spareribs. They are good and meaty, if a little lean, and grill much better than they barbecue, but they are not ribs (even though the supermarket says so).


A whole rack (AKA “slab”) of spareribs has the breast bone and cartilage intact, and any meat cooked with bone and costal (rib) cartilage equals more flavor. If the breast bone and cartilage have been trimmed off, the rack is called a St. Louis rack. Apparently in St. Louis they don’t like flavor. If they take off the skirt of meat that lies on the back side of a St. Louis rib rack, it’s then called a Kansas City rack (AKA, KC Cut, Colorado Cut, South Side Cut). This whittles a perfectly good rack of spareribs down to almost the size of a puny baby back slab. People in Kansas City apparently love bulimic racks of ribs, and like flavor even less than residents of St. Louis. Some boneheads argue that the definitions of St. Louis and Kansas City are reversed. True ribologists avoid pointless arguments. Both types are suckacious manglings of the regal sparerib.


Spareribs are sold wholesale by weight, and have their own size terminology: “3½ and down” is a rack that weighs less than 3 and a half pounds, meaning it came from a younger and more tender pig. A “3 to 4” or a “3 to 5” is a slab that weighs between 3 and 4 pounds or 3 and 5 pounds. The bigger the slab, the older the animal, and the lower and slower it should be cooked to maintain tenderness. A full rack of spareribs should have between 11 and 14 ribs, and should feed between 2 and 4 eaters, depending on their rib-storing capacity. Figure on losing about 25% of your total rack weight when you cook a slab of ribs.


Fresh is always better than frozen. All-natural or organic is always better than water-injected, antibiotic and/or hormone-laced pork. Reject “enhanced” slabs…packed with water, sodium phosphate, flavorings, and tenderizers…you want real meat. Heritage breeds such as Berkshire, Mangalitsa, Tamworth, Red Wattle, Duroc, Old Spot, Yorkshire, or Large Black will taste a lot better than one of these new hybrid disco breeds. Avoid “shiners”: ribs that have been trimmed so close by the meat processors that the bones show through; these will have little actual meat to consume. Look for slabs that have good meat coverage and nicely-trimmed fat shells.


Regardless of how you plan on cooking the ribs, or what you might be flavoring them with, the membrane on the back side of the ribs should be removed before seasoning. The sheath-like membrane covers the back side of the slab. Once removed it allows the seasonings and smoke to penetrate the meat easily, and makes the rack more tender. To remove, use a blunt-edged knife and pry up one corner of the membrane. Using a thin towel or a paper towel, firmly grasp the corner of the membrane and pull it off. One removed, the rack is called a “skinned” slab. Some folks prefer instead to make a series of shallow cuts with a sharp knife through the membrane. We like them skinned.


Slow and low smoking is preferred with ribs. Some folks steam them first, to break down connective tissue and remove some of the fat. Do this only if you are in a big hurry, and if you do it, save the de-fatted liquid from the bottom of the steamer. It makes a killer base for Chinese hot and sour soup, or for some székely goulash.. Some folks do it bass-ackwards: they smoke the ribs, and then wrap them in foil to finish them. This is, in effect, steaming the ribs, except that you ruin the nice smoky bark you have going on the outside. If you're going to ruin them with a glaze or a gloppy sauce, no loss, since you'll be destroying the bark anyway. There ought to be a quarter of an inch of bone showing on the end when they are done. The bone should not slip out of it's meat wrapper...if it does, the meat is probably overdone and mushy.


So, stick to a real sparerib for maximum flavor, and slow smoke them over some oak with a little wet fruit wood added to the edge of the coals. If you must have sauce with your ribs, add it when you eat it. Anything else violates all the rules of nature.


Mick ©