My Barbecue Vacation: a BBQ Snob’s Take on the Great Southern Pastime.

There are very few topics of discussion--outside of sports, of course--that will get my temperature rising. During my adult life, I have kept my composure during heated debates regarding both politics and religion (two things, I don’t recommend talking about with any company over cocktails-—unless you are very sure they agree with you on every matter).

However, disagree with me over the proper preparation methods and nomenclature to address the preferred food of my homeland and the proverbial gloves come right off. I won’t say I’ve ever come to blows over the subject, but there have been times when it came awfully close. And I assure you, the fact that the discussion didn’t escalate to violence wasn’t because I wasn’t ready to take it there. Rather, the other party either backed down or decided such a topic wasn’t worth this sort of trouble, which, of course, also makes me right by default.

I am, of course, talking about barbecue. I’m an admitted barbecue snob.

Now, despite my enthusiasm for the subject, in general, I’m a very open-minded person, more or less, even about barbecue. Food, perhaps more than anything, is subjective in nature. What one group may find delicious, others may find repulsive. (How else would you explain someone eating something called head cheese, while finding something truly delicious, like crawfish, disgusting?)

So, I have no problems with our friends who prefer ketchup-based sauce to vinegar-based sauce, even mustard-based sauce is ok with me, if that’s your thing. Equally, I don’t care if you want to make your ribs all messy and sticky as opposed to a nice dry rub with sauce on the side. This is America. You bought it and cooked it, do what you want with it. I, of course, have my own opinion on these matters; but that’s all it is, an opinion. And you can’t argue a preference.

But.

There are certain matters that we as barbecue lovers must agree on for the sanctity of the art of barbecue itself. I call them the Three Truths About Barbecue. And if you hold these truths to be self evident, you will get no disagreement from me.

Truth Number Three: Simply Cooking Outside, A Barbecue Does Not Make.

Barbecue {bahr-be-kyoo} (-verb) by its very definition, is slow-cooking a meat of your choice (read: PORK) over indirect heat over a long period of time. (Good barbecue is cooked low and slow.) That meat when properly barbecued is called barbecue (now a noun). Anything else should be called “grilling out.” Hamburgers, hotdogs and the occasional chicken breast: these are the things one finds at a cookout. Now it should be mentioned, I’ve had some damn fine barbecue chicken, it’s one of my favorite things to find at a barbecue; however, there is a difference between barbecue chicken and grilled chicken. Calling cooking over an open flame with direct heat and flipping burgers “barbecuing” is an offense to the art itself. See the difference? You don’t see many people smoking hot dogs for four to five hours with hickory. (Although, come to think of it, that would probably be delicious).

Not recognizing Truth Number Three is a forgivable offense and one easily corrected. Most people are happy to be corrected. At least they say so. But please don't stop inviting me to your cookouts. I love hamburgers and hot dogs! And as long as you're feeding me, you can call it any damn thing you like. I'll keep quiet; I promise.

Truth Number Two: In Terms of Sandwiches, THE SLAW GOES ON THE SANDWICH

This truth is akin to the designated hitter debate in Major League Baseball: everyone has an opinion. But half of those people are also wrong. This is a rare case where a preference can be considered incorrect. Personally, I don’t care for slaw by itself. I can count the times I’ve actually eaten slaw with a fork on one hand. But topped on the meat of a barbecue sandwich, or better yet, thoroughly mixed in the barbecue with tender love and care, and I can eat my weight in the stuff. Some will say “I like mine on the side” or “but I don’t like slaw.” Well, you sir or madam, don’t really like barbecue sandwiches and I suggest you go have yourself a quiche.

Truth Number One: The Most Important Truth: Barbecue = Pork

Barbecue is Pork. Pork is barbecue. Pork is a jealous barbecue, and there shall be no barbecue before Pork.

Now that we’re clear on that, it should be said that unlike how the Lord Almighty feels about false gods, Pork doesn’t mind if you experiment with other meats that are barbecued. You will not get smote. So, by all means, enjoy other meat prepared in the traditional barbecue method from time to time. Just don’t call it “barbecue” without specifying the meat afterwards.

For example “barbecue chicken” is perfectly acceptable to say. Even saying “barbecue beef ribs” is ok in the eyes of Pork. But if you’re at a barbecue joint and ask for a barbecue sandwich, or barbecue ribs, and you are served anything other than Pork–-leave immediately, then promptly leave the state because you are most likely in Texas. (Just kidding, Texas. You know I love ya.)

In other words, saying “barbecue pork” is unnecessary and redundant. You might as well say “barbecue barbecue” or “pork pork.”


The Great Barbecue Vacation

So now you’re probably thinking, “If this guy is so good, I’d like to try his barbecue sometime.” Well, let me say at this point I am not a very good barbecuer. It’s true what they say, those who can’t do, teach, or at least critique. I mean, I’m not bad. I enjoy the process very much, but I’m nothing compared to those hard working souls, Pork bless them, that make their living with the art or compete on an international level in competitions such as the World Championship of Barbecue held every May in Memphis.

To use yet another baseball analogy: those guys are like Albert Pujols, and I’m more like the guy on your company’s softball team who doesn’t hit a lot of home runs but makes good contact with the ball until around the fifth inning when he’s had too many beers.

I love to fire up the smoker and give it a whirl some weekends. I’ve even participated in the ultimate barbecue experience--a whole hog--but my real passion lies in eating the stuff. I consider myself more of a connoisseur.

How passionate about it am I? Well most people wouldn’t plan their hard-earned vacation days around particular barbecue destinations would they? Truth is, I didn’t either; it just worked out that way. So I decided to write about it. Serendipity I suppose. Over the next couple of months or so, this blog will feature various barbecue destinations I have visited or will visit this summer: Kansas City, the East Coast and even Texas. My weight will increase, along with my cholesterol. But these are the sacrifices I'm willing to make in the name of BBQ journalism. It's a hard life, but somebody has to do it.

COMING UP: My next post will be a write-up on some barbecue sampled in the birthplace of barbecue--the Arkansas Delta.

Note from the Author: There is some debate on the spelling of this subject, but it makes no difference to me whether you prefer barbeCue or barbeQue or even BBQ or just "que." I went with "barbecue" because that was most common on the bottles of my various sauces (in the photo).