Bar-B-Q

IKE

Well-known Member
We both got to craving BBQ so I fired up the grill yesterday afternoon for the first time this season......we did pork ribs, chicken quarters, corn on the cob and mama fixed some of her 'to die for' deviled eggs.

I ain't gonna lie.....I ate too much. :)
 

I love ribs also..Yum! Only time I eat them though is at my daughter’s...she usually makes them when I’m there just because she knows how much I love them.
 

RR & CC the next time we throw some ribs on the grill you two are both invited.....heck I'll even pick up the tab on your first class round trip transportation.

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Haha, Ike And Thanks.

Im going to look up how long of a ride it is from Fresno to Oklahoma. :)

Looks like you’re feeling better today!


Edit: it’s about 1,500 miles!!!

I do like ribs but maybe not that much.:)
 
I love BBQ. as long as it isn't hot. My son like dry rub on his. I don't know if that is still considered BBQ. I hope your CT scan is ok. Maybe the fact that it hasn't gotten worse is a good sign.
My side still aches so there is definitely something wrong......I see the doc for the results on my CT scan Monday afternoon, let's just hope whatever it is ain't too serious.
 
We're not really a nation of BBQ people in the UK, but I find it strange that some people who couldn't open a tin of beans, suddenly think they're a star chef at the BBQ. You can see them regularly on camp sites, cremating sausages and creating clouds of smoke that could blot out he sun:hopelessness:
 
Texas style BBQ Ribs..
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wrote sumpm about Texas BBQ in an ol' thread of mine;

Ribs and other Bones

There’s nothing like a good meal for a get together,
and the good meal is a barbeque.

Being a northerner that spent some years down south, I can say those boys down there know barbeque.

Ribs, fallin off the bone.

Chikin, smoked, from wood, not wunna those fancy pellet rigs, but by an ol’ guy raised in a ‘grease house’, from a pit the size of a horse trough.

Beans, I didn’t know beans could taste like that. Odd things, strange herbs, spices, homemade sauces, a bit a fat meat, marinated for hours. They were a meal all by themselves.
Tater salad…M-M-M-M, none like it.

Sweet tea, steeped in a gallon jug in the sun.

Beer, Lone Star or Falstaff, didn’t matter, both tasted like mop water from a jukejoint, but did their job of cleansing the palate for the next bite.

Sip, rib, sip, chikin, sip, beans, sip, salad, guzzle the rest.
Made ya just fall down and scream.

Houston.
Down the street, Telephone road, was wunna those grease houses.
An old black gent lived there with what seemed like three generations of family.
Everbuddie's grampa, even mine for awhile.
Everyone called him Chili.
Bid overalls, white butcher’s apron, leather baseball cap was his eternal uniform.

Had a high pitched, raspy voice, and always a smirk on his ol’ mug.
More often than not, you’d find me sittin’ at his dilapidated picnic table after work, watchin’ him toil over the pit.
Nuthin’ attractive.
Tin lean-to roof, pile of wood, ol' white fridge that made a humming sound laboring in the heat, vats and jars, brushes, large forks,
and the huge pit with a homemade steel lid, that once he was satisfied with how things were goin’ he’d drop down and come out to talk to me…..talk about stories…old day stories…..bone chilling, horrific stories.

Naw, nuthin’ attractive….. ‘cept for the rich savory aromatic fragrance emanating from that glorious pit.
I’d sit there, sweating like a pig, drool stream gathering on the table in a puddle…

‘Chili!
WTF ol’ man!?’

‘Boy, you know it’s not ready….I’ll tell ya when it’s ready.’

It was worth the wait.


Fourth of July…or as they say down there JOOOlah, everyone barbequed.
Po foke, rich foke, middle class foke, all had their pits goin’.
You couldn’t walk two steps without getting hit upside the head with the aroma of the gods.

One fourth, me and my lady were flat broke.
I’d come off a month long stint in Brownsville, inspecting oil field pipe, big job.
Tuboscope laid some folks off after that, so I volunteered for some time off myself.
Took most of June, just me and my lady…nobody else.
Ran outta money…rent was paid, car was maintained, just broke….food crumbs in the fridge, empty bottles piled in the corner of the carport below…sittin’ on the couch smokin’ a partial I’d dug outta the butt can.

‘I’m goin’ back to work.’

‘It’s the fourth.’

‘Oh’

Chili and family had gone somewhere.
It was hot.
Most neighbors had headed to Galveston.

Our guts were eatin’ guts.
Hadn’t been so hungry in a long time.
A friend invited us to a company get together.
The park was filled with heavenly flavors.
Kids, old folk, parents, all had plates heaped with goodies, goodies that tempted me to follow ‘em, floating on the fragrant waves.

We strolled over to the tables.

$3.50

$3.50??!!

I had 37 cents.

One the way back to the garage apartment I swore I’d never put myself in that position again…especially on the fourth.

I think wunneezdaze we need to head back down south for a spell.


Something about the word ‘brisket’ that just sounds savory…didn’t know what it was ‘til I landed in Texas.

 
BBQ differs from region to region (Texas, KC, Memphis, St. Louis are the most prominent) and they al claim to be the best. Give me a great rub over sauce any day. Gary O mentions Telephone Road in Houston. There are maybe 6-7 premium joints for BBQ and some are little off the road places like Corkscrew in Old Town Spring where the lines never end.
 
Sounds good Ike! Hope you get good news on Monday! My husband BBQs year round, even if it's snowing, mostly St. Louis pork ribs, rib-eye steaks, lamb sirloins, not chicken and like Al Bundy.....never fish. :p
 

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