Slow Baked Dry Rubbed Spare Ribs

ribs-dryrub-done

Theoretically, I should experiment more with dry rubs but, well, it’s just… for me, this stuff is like the grill equivalent of crack.  Crack and pork. Pork and crack. I play around with ratios and leading actors, but I always come back to the same basic cast of characters.  When these players hit the stage of Fleisher’s berkshire pork, spectacular things happen.

If you are looking to shut down all table conversation, and revert your guests to a neanderthal state of grunting and gnawing, try the following:

Buy two racks of (berkshire if possible) pork spare ribs for every 3 people.

With a mortar and pestle, grind up:
1 tsp coriander seed
1 tsp cumin seed
1 tsp yellow mustard seed
1/2 tsp black pepper

Then stir in:
2 tsp smoked paprika
1 tbsp kosher salt
heaping tbsp brown sugar
1 tsp dried oregano

ribs-dryrub-pre

I sometimes use pre-ground cumin, but I really like using the seeds for the coriander, mustard seed, and black pepper for that extra texture.  I also will note that I don’t bother removing the membrane on the bottom side of the ribs.

Rub the spice mixture all over the ribs, then place them in a suitable holder (I use a baking dish), cover with plastic wrap, and return to the fridge for 6 hours or more (overnight is ideal).

You can cook these with indirect heat on the grill, or with low heat in the oven.  In this case, it was raining, so I baked these on broiler trays (so any melted fat didn’t pool) for 3 to 3.5 hours at 250F degrees.

That’s it. Easy peasy. Dig in caveman!

Urgh gllrgh mmmmmmmm

ribs-dryrub-close

The ribs before cooking

Additional notes: I usually don’t use oregano with this dry rub, but really enjoyed it here.  Another good spin is to add some heat with cayenne or red pepper flakes.

Weekend Tinkering: Lime Pickle; Slow Baked Pork

pickled-limes

Rainy weekends call for tinkering in the kitchen. Tinkering, however, runs smack up against one of the hidden catches to having children.  They never tell you this beforehand, for fear of putting you off.  It belies description, this 10th circle of hell, this other-worldly zone of chaos, sugar, and tears.  See, just a few words and you already know what I am talking about: children’s birthday parties.

Like Sartre’s No Exit, you cannot escape.  The unwritten rule is that your child has to go to every birthday party of every other child in his or her class.  And (warning: you cannot escape this either), those children have to come to your child’s party too. They, and by “They” I of course refer to SPECTRE, who after some market testing decided to rebrand under the code M.O.M.S. … They insist on attendance, but (wait for it) they want you to take the kiddo. It’s right there in the M.O.M.S. 21st Century Handbook: when facing suicide mission, find patsy to take the fall.

Fear not. With almost catlike powers of resurrection, I have emerged from these experiences, emotionally scarred, occasionally paint splattered, and usually hard of hearing.  Kitchen tinkering has been disturbed, oh so unjustly, but it has taken place as it can.  This weekend’s journey took us through the beginnings of pickled limes, slow baked dry rub pork, and the stuffed cabbage that kept on giving (subject of another post).

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