That handsome Dutchman that I call my husband is taking over today. He is going to rub the heck out of some ribs and show you just how easy it can be! Let’s get to some rib-rubbin’. Delicious. Take it away, Peter. 

There’s something very American about ribs. There’s something very Dutch about my family. As such, there wasn’t much crossover between the two and I grew up on a generally rib-free diet (that consisted more of chocolate and cheese than animal parts). This absence of barbecue (outside of simple things like hamburgers) made the whole concept of roasting and smoking meats intimidating.

To put things in perspective, the Dutch are traditionally known for two kinds of food: pancakes and fries (pannekoeken and frites). Not necessarily together, though I can’t promise I’ve never walked down this indulgent path. And through years of historical entanglement, the Dutch have close ties to Indonesia. Thus our dinner table was covered in Nasi Goreng and Atjar Tjampoer, or otherwise with hagelslaag (chocolate sprinkles on toast).

With such sweet and savory delicacies at my fingertips, it’s no wonder I never dabbled with barbecuing. Barbecuing (without the memories of flavor embedded in your mind, dreaming of your chin covered in sauce, belly extended from overuse) takes a long time and seems complicated offhand.

As I got older and learned I couldn’t eat sprinkles for every meal* (*bold faced lie, I never learned that), I had the pleasure of eating a rack of unbelievable ribs from an old LA establishment. I’d dabbled with ribs from other places, but my true love and appreciation grew out of this single, savory experience. Yet making my own ribs still seemed an impossibility.

But through a series of curious events last summer, Gina and I ended up with a freezer full of organic meat. This included pounds of ribs, glaring at me through the appliance door, daring me to try and make them taste good. When expressing this conundrum to a coworker, he presented me the rule of threes: 300 degrees for three hours. Simple. It’s really just a matter of figuring out how to spice and rub the meat that’s the trick, though I daresay (if you taste it along the way), you’ll be hard pressed to screw these up.

Rib rubs are all about testing and picking flavors you enjoy to mesh together for the perfect blend of sweet and spicy. Me? I start with a lot of brown sugar for sweetness (hagelslaag gets too melty) and build up salt and spice from there. There’s a handful of spices you can tinker with, so feel free to get a little creative. You can find the recipe for the rub that I created this time around below, along with a couple other suggestions.

On one occasion Gina and I had a “rib-off,” which was simply cooking two slabs of ribs with different rubs, and picking a winner based on how good the end result was. Spoiler: we both won (though if we’re going by high scores, our cholesterol won).

The real lesson here is that you don’t need to be intimidated by long cook times or animal parts. All it takes it a little experimentation (and a few hours of free time).

Delicious! Now sit back, admire your pile of bones, and revel in your high placement on the food chain. Carnivores, am I right?

 

 

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