Nobody makes ribs for just one person. Ribs call for a family, a get-together, a group of people gathered around a picnic table that is happily worn. Barb's ribsor at least Barb's Jack Daniel's glazed ribscall for a whole cul-de-sac. And that is exactly what happened in my neighborhood, every summer, once the grill was lit.
Growing up, I never really understood cul-de-sac culture. I was a Yankee transplanted into a world of Southern hospitality. My mom and I rolled our eyes when people welcomed us to the neighborhood with baskets of homemade treats; we scoffed at the casseroles and fruit pies that were left at our front door. We were urban folk, after all. We believed that you issued polite nods as you were pulling into the driveway, but you stayed out of your neighbors' business. You ate your meals, they ate theirs.
Right before I entered high school, we moved from Mississippi to Tennessee. At that point, we'd lived below the Mason Dixon for nearly 8 years. Our vernacular had developed a twang, we'd abandoned "yins" for "y'all" and our CD collection boasted more country music artists than I care to admit. It was official: we were Southerners.
Jackson, Tenn., is where I met my first cul-de-sac. Little did I know at the time, but this looped dead-end would eventually serve as the final step in my complete Southernization. That street is where I learned that the neighbors usually kept their doors unlocked, that they always had eggs or milk or flour for you to borrow when you came up short and that, when they were having a cookout, you were expected ( if not obligated ) to attend.
Thus began our familiarization with all of our neighbors' backyards. Before long, the neighbors became family. When there was a holiday or long weekend, the whole cul-de-sac celebrated it together. Nobody ever sent invitations; no one ever asked whether or not you were coming. The only negotiation was, "Who's cooking what?"
In our neighborhood, Barbara was almost always responsible for the main course. Her dishes were the centerpieces that everyone else's recipes accessorized. She cooked the pounds of crab legs, the famous cheeseburger meatloaf and, of course, the ribs.
Though the ribs were unexpectedly tender, it was the glaze that made them memorable. The glaze is at once savory and sweet. It's slightly spicy and it has a wonderful bite, thanks to the splash of whiskey thrown in at the end. The flames from the grill cause the sauce to caramelize and result in the perfect sticky, charred piece of pork.
But Barb's ribs recipeand our affection for itwasn't so much about the glaze; it was really about what happened when the ribs were made. It was about all of the people you care about sitting around a table, in the middle of a Tennessee summer, swatting flies and looking at a platter of ribs so large, we thought we'd never be able to finish it. ( Though, somehow we always managed. )
Last night, just as I was finishing up this article, the doorbell rang. It was a couple of my neighbors that have, through a series of cookouts, become good friends. I knew I was making ribs, and I knew that I was making more ribs than two people could reasonably consume, so I called them. We sat in the backyardaround a mismatch of small tables and chairsand we ate.
Of course, there was the usual lineup of side dishes ( potato salad, grilled corn, lemonade ) , but the ribs were the main attraction. We ate them until our faces were sticky and our T-shirts were ruined. We ate them like any rib-lovin', neighbor-knowin' Southerner would.
Barb's Ribs with Jack Daniel's Glaze
Jack Daniel's glaze
1 head of garlic
1 cup of water
2 ½ cups dark brown sugar
2 cups pineapple juice
½ cup teriyaki sauce
2 tbsp. soy sauce
¼ cup lemon juice
½ onion, minced
3 tbsp. Jack Daniel's Whiskey
2 tbsp. crushed pineapple
1 tsp. cayenne pepper ( or more, if you'd like )
1. Cut the top off the head of garlic. Rub with olive oil, wrap in foil, and put in a 350 degree oven. Roast for 30-45 minutes. Set aside to cool.
2. Combine water, pineapple juice, teriyaki sauce, soy sauce and brown sugar in a pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce until simmering.
3. Mix together roasted garlic, minced onion and crushed pineapple. Add to sauce.
4. Add lemon juice, whiskey and cayenne pepper.
5. Simmer the mixture for 45 minutes. It should reduce and become syrupy.
6. Set aside to cool.
Ribs
3 lbs. baby back ribs
1 can pineapple rings
1 tbsp. cinnamon
1 tbsp. red pepper flakes
1. Preheat oven to 250 degrees.
2. Season the ribs with the cinnamon, red pepper flakes, salt and pepper.
3. Layer the ribs in an aluminum baking pan. Scatter pineapple rings around the pan ( make sure every layer has pineapple ) .
4. Pour the remaining pineapple juice over the ribs.
5. Cover the pan with foil and slowly bake in the oven for 4 hours. Periodically, take the ribs out and baste them with the drippings.
6. Once the ribs have slow-cooked for 4 hours ( they should be very tender ) , throw them on a pre-heated grill. Since they should be fully cooked, they needn't grill for longer than 10 minutes.
7. After the ribs have been on the grill for 5 minutes, liberally baste them with the Jack Daniel's glaze. Since the glaze has a lot of sugar, the glazed ribs will only need 2-3 minutes per side.
8. Pass out the wet wipes and start eating.