"You ever judged?"
Never have three words so swelled my pride. The questioner was the curled cowboy hat wearing proprietor of the Mighty Midget.
He had been spying from his "restaurant," a tiny airstream cabin in Leesburg from which the best bbq ribs (pork, natch) in NOVA are dispensed. I had been caressing the meat off the rib bones, admiring the color, savoring the spicy salty rub, testing the suprisingly thick sauce, and enjoying every minute that the half-rack was with us.
Apparently he was watching me, and asked those fateful words. "You ever judged?" I told him I was no judge, just a BBQ fan. He described how the judges would go through the same slow eat process (appropriately enough for slow cooked meats). Apparently the judges work a lot with their hands. He told us that the rack we were eating smoked for 8 1/2 hours. Just right, as far as I can tell.
But I'm no judge.
3 comments:
This post gives me a smile as wide as the panhandle.
For a minute I thought someone offered you a judgeship. I sailed to the Canary Islands once on a judgeship. It had heavy oak paneling, black sails in the sunset, the whole Nine. Those Canary Islanders can do a mean BBQ, lemme tell you -- little yellow game hens or something, I don't know what but they were delish.
Excellent stream, Max. And all without smokin'!
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