Several years ago, over the course of one month I witnessed two classic experiences with spareribs. First, the time being PG (Pre-Girls), we spontaneously and madly made the decision to go out to eat*. (*I know, this sounds impossible to parents of children under the age of 15, but trust me, it happened). We went to one of a small chain of restaurants located in Grand Rapids where I ordered their “barbecued ribs”. When they arrived, you had to admit that the meat “fell off the bone.” It also could have fallen off the plate. The ribs were cooked to a soup-like consistency that gave you a hint of what “pureed” meant.
A few weeks later, I was at the home of a friend where he had rather loudly proclaimed that he was going to prepare his amazingly wonderful ribs on the grill. Apparently, he had decided that the whole notion of slowly cooking at a low temperature, often referred to as barbecuing, was a waste of time. Instead, he hovered over the spareribs, poking, prodding and flipping them on the grill as if he was angry at them. In the end, the ribs had their revenge. They were inedible, although still useful as paving material.
As is the case in most things, a more moderate approach was not only advisable but readily done.
The goal is to achieve ribs that have some degree of “char”, showing that they have in fact been on a grill, easily eaten but with some degree of chewing resistance, as in not pureed. The fact that this is achievable is demonstrated by the large number of restaurants that specialize in ribs and that they are sold, pre-cooked and covered in sauce, at grocery stores. The restaurant product is often good. The store ribs, necessarily sold in plastic wrap that is an inch thick, is not.
The preparation of the ribs can be broken down into two parts. First, cooking them. Second, making them into charred greatness.
The first part starts with a critically important step. Dedicated readers* (*I’m not at all sure that there are any. My mother in law of 43 years is critical of the blog about chicken wings because I had the temerity of not cutting off the wing tips, as called for in every recipe, except mine. Why bother?) may recall that it was considered of overriding importance to carefully slice the brisket against the grain, (see step #6 of Kevin's Brisket) or suffer slices that were tough and subsequent spousal criticism. By the same token, there is a first step with ribs that will dictate to a significant degree whether they are deemed good or not.
Ribs have two sides, meaty and boney. On the boney side, there is a white membrane that has to be removed. If it is not, no matter how well they are cooked, the ribs will seem to be tough. Removing the membrane takes a bit of work. A corner of it should be pried up with a knife tip or a fingernail, depending on your view of personal hygiene. This little corner will be slippery. Use a paper towel to grab it and pull off the membrane.
It will take an Act of God for it to come off in one piece, but stay with it until removed entirely. Costco often has ribs under Swift’s brand that have the membrane removed but, Costco being Costco, they are sold in three slab packages, which is usually more than is needed.
Once they have been trimmed of the membrane, they are ready for the rub. Grocery stores are littered with little cans of rub mixes, often with a label showing a hideously grinning pig. Go ahead and buy one if you want. But then you won’t have the smart alec tingle of telling people of how you make your own.
Mine is simplicity itself: one cup of brown sugar, two table spoons of garlic powder, one table spoon of salt, one of pepper, and one of paprika. Actually, I’ve never measured it. All I really know is that it is mostly brown sugar, plus some of whatever spices look plausible.
Once rubbed, wrap the ribs in foil or plastic wrap and let sit, overnight if possible, for a few hours if not. As with the brisket, there will be some liquid run off from the ribs, so have them in a pan or on a towel.
I usually cut the slab of ribs in half, for easier handling. Now, it’s Gaggenau time.
The Oven calls for 360 degrees, 100 percent steam, for 75 minutes. The steam keeps the ribs moist and accelerates the cooking time. Once done and cooled, I put sauce on them and wrap them in two layers of foil for transport to the tailgate.* (*I use K. C. Masterpiece Original Sauce, for the totally valid reason that they advertise in U of M’s football program).
At the site, they are first warmed in the foil, then taken out and carefully charred, with sauce added as needed, starting with the bony side down, then turning to finish the meaty side. It is important not to overdo this part. Keep in mind that they are already cooked, per the oven.
Brother-in-law C, as always envious of my skills with cooking and sick of hearing me talk about it, worked mightily to try and match my ribs, without the advantage of the Oven. His vain but worthy attempt is described next, exactly as he wrote it.