|
B-B-Q King: “I
hear a pig calling my name”
by Joshua Covington
for
Virginia Business
March 2003
I
sling pork on the weekends. I’m not especially
proud of it, nor am I ashamed — lots of writers
and students have day jobs. Mine just happens to send
me home at night reeking of smoky swine. Writing is
a cleaner job, however, so when asked to do a piece
on the subject I jumped at that chance.
Taking
on the task has proven more difficult than first expected.
Little did I know there are many more styles of Q than
just my version. Depending on the region of the country
in which you live, types of barbecue, methods of preparation
and sauces can vary as widely as Virginia’s weather
in March. In the Carolinas, people prefer the whole
hog cooked directly over the coals, smothered in a thin
vinegary sauce. Natives of Memphis lean toward a mixture
of spices called rub, covering their otherwise sauceless
pork. Those hailing from Kansas City seem to enjoy their
pig lathered in a thick sweet sauce. Of course here
in the Old Dominion, we like a little of everything,
depending on exactly where you go to find it.
Often
called the only truly American food, barbecue has been
eaten by hungry people for many centuries, before European
explorers even set foot here. The tasty meat soon caught
on with settlers and quickly became an undeniable aspect
of American culture. By the Civil War, pigs were domesticated
and barbecue was the principle delicacy of the South.
So
why has barbecue been delighting hungry Southerners
for so long? Well, I’ll try and fill you in without
giving away my trade secrets. Some places cheat, boiling
their pork shoulder, then adding liquid smoke for an
authentic taste, but this is not true Q. Most masters
would say it’s all about the wood you use to smoke
it, and the hours it spends slowly cooking. Lars Bors-Koefoed,
owner of The Hickory Notch Grill in Goochland County
where I work, subscribes to that school of thought.
“If you don’t cook it with hickory or you
don’t smoke it, it’s not barbecue — it’s
fake,” he tells me emphatically. Others
maintain that true barbecue must be cooked slowly over
wood and coals, the way it was originally done. Though
they may argue about methods of preparation, one thing
most barbecue gurus agree on is that really poignant
pig must be fresh, tender and moist.
Keeping
pork moist and tender isn’t as simple as it seems.
Many places serve it minced or chopped which I’ve
found leads to a drier, less flavorful product. When
pulled apart into strips just before serving, the pork
remains fresher and even more mouth watering.
Okay, so anyone can smoke and serve barbecue but, between
you and me, it’s the sauce that gives a barbecue
joint its signature item, and keeps the customers rolling
in. It seems everyone has the perfect sauce recipe,
containing such things as pickle juice, mustard, and
even peanut butter. “Barbecue sauce is like apple
pie and potato salad,” Bors-Koefoed is fond of
saying. “Everybody’s mother, grandmother,
or aunt makes the best.”
The
palate of a true Southerner needs tasty Q as much as
his lungs need air. Fortunately for all those pork lovers,
Virginia is a hotbed for barbecue and rib joints. The
Smokey Pig has been an institution in my college town
of Ashland for years because of its slow smoked barbecue.
Extra Billy’s is also a local favorite, serving
tasty smoked meat with a tomato-based sauce. For those
who prefer the Memphis taste, both Red Hot & Blue
and Memphis BBQ will offer that spiced taste you crave.
Of course, there’s always my place, the Hickory
Notch Grill, for good eats.
Trying
to influence a person’s taste buds is like trying
to make a Pulitzer Prize winner out of a cook. It just
isn’t going to happen. I’ve only tried to
stay true to the fare that has paid my bills. Barbecue
has been good to me, and I hope it will be good to you.
Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a pig out
there calling my name.
Editor’s
note: When Joshua Covington isn’t slopping
up the Q, he’s a senior English major at Randolph-Macon
College. He spent a winter internship with Virginia
Business.
Virginia
Business - March 2003
|
|
