First-Timer's Ribs

Ribs, Right the First Time

An occasional series in which staff members share a recipe we turn to time and time again.

Ever since my brother taught me how to baste brisket in a converted oil drum in the side yard of my West Texas childhood home, I've been a barbecue fan. And for barbecue, I've always abided by the purist's definition: low and slow, with the temperature hovering between 200 and 225 degrees and a tough cut of meat transformed into succulence by the gentle wash of smoke.

I haven't lived in Texas for almost 20 years, but I've done more than my fair share of barbecue ever since. We Texans are known for our way with beef, but my favorite thing to smoke became pork ribs: what most people refer to as baby backs but are really the slightly larger loin back ribs. When I lived in Boston I would spend hours tending the coals of my little bullet-shaped smoker, keeping the ribs moist by replenishing the water pan inside and mopping the meat with apple cider.

I'd know they were done as soon as I could twist the rack with tongs and the meat would start to tear. Later, after they rested and I turned up the fire, I'd slather on a sauce and crisp them up over direct heat.

Barbecue guru Steven Raichlen changed all that. When I spent the day with this prolific author, teacher and PBS host at his second home on Martha's Vineyard last summer, he burst my low-and-slow bubble. The first clue was his suggestion that I could get there at 10 a.m. and we'd cook three kinds of ribs for lunch. And it wouldn't be a late lunch, either.

Turns out Raichlen's favorite way with ribs, to "smoke roast" them, is a happy medium between the pit and the grill. Done over indirect heat, with the charcoal piled on the sides and the ribs set over a drip pan in the middle, they cook at about 325 degrees, which gives them some crispy edges but a nicely tender interior. The meat doesn't fall off the bone (and it's not supposed to, really) but easily pulls away from it.

Because I like a little texture to my ribs -- don't even talk to me about parboiling or oven-braising before grilling -- Raichlen's is the perfect shortcut to a delectable, smoky version of one of my favorite foods. Ribs, after all, can turn any carnivore into a cave-dweller, if only for the duration of a meal.

So I'm no first-timer, but my go-to recipe from "Raichlen on Ribs, Ribs, Outrageous Ribs" (Workman, 2006) is called First-Timer's Ribs, for its elegant simplicity. After the first few times, I hardly needed to look it up anymore. He has reduced the magic formula to its essential components: pulling the membrane off the ribs; rubbing them with a sweet-salty-smoky mix; mopping them with cider enriched with butter, bourbon and soy sauce; building the fire and keeping it steady; and using wood chips or chunks to infuse the ribs with smoke. His Lemon Brown Sugar Barbecue Sauce gives them a sweet-tart glaze. (For the committed, he offers alternative instructions for cooking the ribs for four to five hours in a smoker.)

These days, because I am without the outdoor space, two grills and smoker that I had back in Boston, I have to borrow the deck and Weber kettle of a generous friend in Mount Pleasant whenever I want my fix. But with Raichlen's ribs, I'm in and out in a flash -- or under two hours, to be more specific. This is neither low nor slow, but it sure works.