Is that the grill or a nuclear explosion?
The baby back ribs were seasoned perfectly and looked like a piece of pig art.
Grilling is a cooking method I developed as an adult. I’m sure my dad used an outdoor grill, but it wasn’t the main choice of food preparation.
In fact, we had a stove in the basement for summertime cooking. Since we didn’t have central air, the house would get mighty hot when my mom cooked in the kitchen. So my dad set up a mini kitchen in the basement where it was cooler so my mom could cook and can in relative comfort.
But I developed a knack for grilling and got pretty good at it over the years. I began with hot dogs, then learned how to properly cook steaks and chops and chicken and vegetables. We developed rubs and marinades and sauce injections and brines. Some friends and I even discuss various meats and share photos. We’ve even shared recipes like the ladies.
Over the years, grilling has grown in to a multibillion dollar industry. We now have TV shows and national championship competitions dedicated to the art. We marvel and nod our heads at a smoke ring in a brisket. We ooh and aah when a pork butt literally falls apart in our hands.
So when I decided to make baby back ribs for the family, this was nothing new. I’ve grilled many ribs over the years with a variety of rubs. And as anyone knows, the only way to cook ribs properly is low and slow.
I’m also a big fan of side meats. That means I will have a main meat and add a second or third just for variety’s sake. It’s a beautiful thing. In this case I had to time the ribs, then complete the mission with a couple of steaks later.
Ribs at first must be grilled with indirect heat, meaning half the grill is lighted and the ribs are laid on the other side so they can roast slowly. Which is what I did. Or so I thought. I laid them on the grill, went back inside and read the paper just before nap time because I had about an hour to kill.
Suddenly something caught my eye. I looked out and there above my grill was a giant mushroom cloud of smoke as if the North Koreans dropped a mini nuclear bomb in my yard. I screamed while scrambling to my feet, which is difficult because it’s not easy getting out of my easy chair. The frightened dog ran for cover. My wife, thinking I was having a heart attack, prepared to dial 911. It was chaos.
I reached the grill, opened the lid and my heart sank. For some reason I placed the ribs on direct heat. It took only seconds for the flames to grow into a hellish inferno and blacken them. Those beautiful rubbed ribs were now charred pig remains. It was like dropping a bottle of 12-year-old scotch. Oh the humanity.
I felt like a French chef who dropped his soufflé or an Italian mother who overcooked lasagna noodles. We were able to save most of the ribs but the trauma remains. Maybe I should put a stove in the basement.
Ray Kisonas is the regional editor of The Monroe News and The Daily Telegram. He can be reached at rayk@monroenews.com.
This article originally appeared on The Monroe News: Ray Kisonas: Is that the grill or a nuclear explosion?
