Finger-licking Ribs

Posted June 08, 2009

Find more about dinner , ribs , dalai mama , barbecue

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If you are not of the meat-eating pursuasion, please forgive me.

The rub. Please note the absence of sugar, which keeps the ribs from burning.

The rubbed ribs before baking. . .

. . . and after.

The sauce ingredients. You probably already have most of them, and you were wanting to buy bacon anyway, right? Is it gross to baste pork with more pork? You decide.

The simmering sauce. It really is delicious.

There are no photographs of the ribs on the grill because women aren't allowed out there unless we agree to pound cans of Bud and change into old heavy-metal t-shirts. But we were allowed to admire them directly afterwards.

Longtime readers may be interested to know that this is Ben's friend Ava's finger-licking father.

And finger-licking mother. Where were the children? Somewhere. I don't know. But I'll confess that I thought about making the ribs too spicy for them--the better to gorge ourselves. But my conscience got the better of me.

It was over much too quickly.

Yes, I am the kind of person who plies you with eggs and hummus for weeks on end in my cheap, de-facto vegetarian way, and then throws you this pricey, carnivorous curve ball. That's how it is for me in the duck-duck-goose of dinner preparations. Sometimes the fact of an early June Friday evening with friends just feels like cause for celebration.

Plus, well, ribs. Ribs were for Michael what bacon was for me: the gateway meat as he strayed from the path of herbivore righteousness. I'm not saying I went out of my way to tempt him. I'm just saying that sometimes a platter of burnished, succulent ribs happens to end up on the table, and if you can resist them... well... you're not the person I married.

Even Birdy loves ribs--Birdy who seems to be well on her way to becoming a vegetarian herself, both because of her love of animals and because the conventions of meat eating mystify her: "I can't figure out how to swallow this," she'll say through a wad of steak that she's been chewing for twenty or so minutes, before spitting it into her napkin. "I think you're going to be a vegetarian," I always say, and she says, because she was born into this family, "Yes, but bacon." Or, "Yes, except ribs." We understand.

We taught her the rule about predators and prey--about how hunted animals (deer, rabbits) evolved with eyes on the sides of their head the better to assess danger, while hunting animals (lions, humans) evolved with eyes on the front of their heads the better to chase down their dinner. "If I stop eating meat, will I end up with eyes on the side?" Birdy wonders, and so we have to explain how natural selection is not actually as speedy a mechanism as, say, plastic surgery.

But okay--the ribs. We had almost these exact ribs the other weekend when we were with my parents, and they were so profoundly excellent that I had to make them again. The sauce is an adaptation of a Florence Tyler recipe that my dad tried because it showed up on his AOL home page and looked good (I like that about my dad), and it is really easy and worth making, despite its long list of ingredients. But if you don't want to bother, then simply use your favorite purchased sauce and the ribs will still be great because what it's all about is the long, slow cooking--the kind of long, slow cooking that melts all the fat and tendons so that the meat pulls clean off the bones in long, succulent shards. Oh they are so good.

I followed my dad's method exactly (this involved many phone calls throughout the day, including a parboiling consultation proffered from a doctor's office waiting room), and this was a time-consuming but not difficult task. Two things I would do differently next time: I would try skipping the parboil, because I think the very slow oven would accomplish everything it needs to (and because the pot of greasy water was kind of a gross extra step, though not prohibitively so). And I would rub the raw ribs with the seasoning mixture and leave them in the fridge for a few hours before baking. I should mention that the rub is not actually something my father used, because I am a rebel like that. And, in fact, when I suggested over the phone that I might skip the sauce because the rubbed ribs looked so good coming out of the oven, he expressed a vague paternal crestfallenness that changed my mind. And I'm glad: after a few minutes on the grill, the sauced ribs were nothing short of perfect. Eight people turned a mound of ribs into a mound of bones in about ten minutes. Ten happy, finger-licking minutes.

Finger-licking Ribs
Serves 8
Active time: 1 hours; total time: 5 hours

The next time I make these, I am going to rub the rub (that sounds weird) on the ribs and refrigerate them for a few hours, then skip the parboiling. However, given that these were--with the exception of some I once ate with my brother in Atlanta--the best ribs I've ever known, I'm going to give you the recipe here exactly as I made them. You can use your favorite purchased sauce, of course.

Babyback ribs (I used 2 large, meaty racks for 2 families of 4. Of course, if there had been more, we would have eaten them, but we were more or less sated.)
Kosher salt
Rib rub (recipe below)
Barbeque sauce (recipe below)

Heat your oven to 275. I began by parboiling the ribs for 10 minutes (which barbecue purists consider heresy, just so you know). I brought a Dutch oven full of water to a boil, salted it heavily, and then submerged the ribs, one rack at a time, moving them around a little as they were cooking since they were sticking out of the pot. The water only came back to a simmer for the second five or so minutes, but that seemed fine; really, I was only trying to get the fat and connective tissue in the mood to melt off during the slow bake. (Edited to add: Skip the parboiling! Just bake them at 250 for the full 4 hours and they will be succulent and perfect. Plus, no gross pot to wash. If you have the time, rub the ribs and refrigerate for 24 hours--or even just a few hours, if that's all you've got--before baking.)

~~Drain the ribs on paper towels and~~ lay the ribs on a large, rimmed baking sheet, then rub them all over with the rub and pop them in the oven to bake for 3-4 hours--the longer the better. If at any point the ribs seem to be browning excessively, turn the heat down to 250.

Now the ribs are cooked and tender, and honestly, if you ate them now, they'd be excellent. But we finished ours with barbeque sauce on the grill for a fuller barbeque experience. Heat a gas grill to medium (Michael added some hickory chips for a smoky flavor), or else let a nice wood or charcoal fire burn down to coals. Slather the ribs with sauce and then grill them for about five minutes a side, until the sauce is burnished but not burned; the sugar will make the sauce inclined to burn, so watch them carefully and err on the side of not blackening them too much (you could do this under the broiler in a pinch--they would still be good). Use a sharp, heavy knife to cut the racks into individual ribs, and serve with the rest of the barbeque sauce and lots of napkins.

Rib Rub
By all means use your favorite rub or rub recipe, but beware of sugar, which will predispose the ribs towards burning during their slow bake. Note: I made only half this recipe, and it seemed like enough for 2 racks. (But leftovers are great as a seasoning for black or pinto beans!)

1/4 cup regular (not smoked) paprika
1 tablespoon Kosher salt
1 teaspoon celery seeds
2 teaspoons garlic powder (fresh garlic will burn)
1 tablespoon chili powder (I used a mix of chipotle powder and new Mexican chili powder; if you use a blend that has other seasoning in it such as salt, cumin, and oregano, just cut the salt back a bit)

I smashed the celery seeds and salt together with a mortar and pestle until the celery seeds looked pretty powdery; alternately, you could use celery salt and cut back on the Kosher salt a bit. Add the rest of the ingredients and stir together well.

Barbeque Sauce
This is adapted from a Tyler Florence recipe that my dad found online. I usually feel like homemade barbecue sauce is not worth the trouble, but this ruddy, delicious one--loaded with smoky flavor from the bacon--is an exception. You can make this while the ribs are baking.

Ingredients:
2 slices bacon
1 large sprig of fresh thyme
1/2 onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 cups ketchup
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup molasses
2 tablespoons vinegar (I used white wine vinegar)
1/2 tablespoon dry mustard (I used Coleman's)
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon paprika (I used smoked)
Freshly ground black pepper

Fry the bacon in a pot over medium heat until it has given off most of its fat, then add the thyme, onions, and garlic and fry, stirring, until the onions are translucent and golden. Add the rest of the ingredients and bring to a simmer, then turn the heat down and simmer very gently, stirring occasionally, for about 20 minutes. Fish the bacon out (okay, so we ate this on crackers and it was insanely good) before using.

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Finger-licking Ribs

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by Catherine Newman

Catherine Newman cooks for the family

Dalai Mama Dishes

Catherine Newman cooks for the family

Finger-licking Ribs

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