Five steps to BBQ nirvana
Grilling doesn't get any slower than with Gary Wiviott
Barbecue coach Gary Wiviott has the grill going on the patio of his Sauganash home.
He is barbecuing three racks of loin back ribs on his trusty Weber Smokey Mountain (or 'WSM' as grillheads call it). Neighbor Dan strolls out into a misty spring rain.
(John H. White/Sun-Times)
"I come out when I smell the cooking," he shouts over a fence. Every time Wiviott fires up his grill, Neighbor Dan has to take his dog Diesel to his son's house. The aroma drives the boxer nuts.
Wiviott is the author of the new meaty manifesto Low & Slow: Master the Art of Barbecue In 5 Easy Lessons (Running Press, $19.95)
He clears his throat.
"I started about 8:30 a.m. and it was raining pretty hard," Wiviott says. "That makes it challenging to start a fire. So I use a charcoal chimney with newspaper and stand over it with an umbrella. Once you get the charcoal lit, it's a piece of cake.
"I wash the ribs off with water and white vinegar because the white vinegar cleanses any stickiness. Then I put on a thin coat of cheap yellow mustard, which helps the rub stick to the ribs. Then I put on my rub with a blend of six or seven ground Mexican peppers."
But Wiviott is all about low and slow.
The ribs aren't served until 1:30 p.m.
Low & Slow is a primer that approaches Barbecue Unplugged. Although is has more than 130 recipes, it is more of a handbook than a cookbook.
Wiviott, founder of the popular LTHForum.com Web site, tells readers to trust their instincts and ditch recipes and fancy thermometers.
He wrote the 256-page book with Chicago food writer Colleen Rush. They began the project two years ago.
"You can't put time and temperature on good barbecue," Rush says in a pre-lunch interview. "You just have to roll with it and use your instincts." Rush, of course, is from Alexandria, La.
"If you do the five steps in linear fashion, you will be OK," Wiviott says. "You can't jump to baby back ribs right away. The book gives you subtle clues each step of the way. At the end of the five steps you've learned how properly smoked and cooked meat is supposed to look. You learn how to feel, taste and touch."
The five steps are: Chicken Mojo Criollo, Brined Chicken, Baby Back Ribs, Spare Ribs and Pulled Pork.
The sixth step is to swallow.
"People see the five steps as the trees, but that ain't it. They think they're learning how to cook those five dinners," Wiviott says. "What they're really learning in the forest is fire control, smoke preference, how to utilize the five senses of cooking."
Low & Slow subscribes to the idea that less is more. The authors emphasize extras that are not needed. They're down on lighter fluid, charcoal briquettes and specialized barbecue tools.
"People can't drive anymore without a navigation device," Wiviott says. "It's the same thing with barbecuing. People lose contact with their innate sense of how these things should taste."
Wiviott tasted barbecue nirvana in 2001, at Cooper's Old Time Pit Bar-B-Que in Llano, Texas, in the Hill Country outside of Austin.
"It is where God goes when she is in the mood for brisket," says Wiviott, who barbecues year-round, between 10 and 12 times a month.
When Wiviott returned to Chicago from Texas, he began cooking differently. He learned about nuance and subtlety at Cooper's. He began to understand the interaction between wood and meat and not to force smoke into meat.
This is apparent in the ribs that Wiviott prepares for my visit. He serves spicy South Carolina mustard-based barbecue sauce on the side. Rush deals macaroni and cheese with red pepper flakes and vinegary cole slaw (all recipes are in Low & Slow). What Wiviott describes as "cheap white bread" is served out of the bag.
I always eat ribs with my fingers. Wiviott has forks available. Always aspiring to be a polite guest, I use a fork to cut into the first slice of the chewy meat.
I am in a hurry to get back to deadline obligations at the office. I am not eating low and slow. Just like my work ethic, I bite off more than I could chew.
At first, I assume the spice got me -- and I love spicy food. Or maybe I'm having the epiphany Wiviott was talking about. But the meat is lodged in my throat.
I take a drink of water (Wiviott had offered me bourbon). The water doesn't go down. I can't talk. But I can breathe.
I gingerly excuse myself from the outdoor patio. I still can't talk. Rush yells, "Should we call 911?"
Rush's boyfriend, Chris Kreynus, is in the kitchen. He also thinks I am having a spice reaction. I tap him on the shoulder and he puts a Heimlich on me.
The swine flew.
Who knows what would have happened? Today I might be on Wikipedia with Mama Cass.
When I return to the table, Wiviott doesn't bat an eye. He is working on his ribs with his fingers. Low and slow.