Sunday, June 28, 2009

"I hope I don't get heartburn."

That is what Callie said as she made her way upstairs, barbecue-sauce-covered hands in the air on her way to wash up after a very tasty dinner. Tonight was the night Scott has been waiting for since picking up our half hog last fall. Tonight was the night he finally got his barbecued slab of ribs and chicken. Such a treat for a man who eats in the Jeffersonian tradition (lots of veggies, not much meat).

As we devoured our dinner, we decided a few things. First, we decided that barbecue tastes best when the meat is happy. Or, was happy. This was a happy pig and a very happy chicken. And probably the biggest of the chickens we bought last fall from Grant Farms. Second, barbecue tastes the best when you cook it right. Around two hours wrapped in foil in a 300 degree oven and then finishing it up on the grill over low heat seemed to do the trick. Third, barbecue tastes the best when you use sauce you prepared yourself from scratch. Not the junk in the bottle from the supermarket shelf. You know, the one where the second ingredient is high fructose corn syrup? Yeah, not that kind of sauce. Everybody has a different preference in barbecue sauce; we prefer our sauce Memphis style and this is the recipe we use. It's one I adapted from the ingredient list on the back of a bottle of Williams-Sonoma Memphis style sauce and it's a recipe we're constantly tweaking. Tonight it was plate-lickin' good.

The last thing we decided tonight, and the girls agreed through mouthfuls of chicken and pork, was that someday when the girls have met the man they want to marry, this is the meal we'll serve when they bring him home to meet the parents. But only if he's really a top-notch guy, a guy who deserves not only an incredible wife but also an awesome meal, because a meal this good isn't one to be wasted on a man not worthy of our daughters.

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