Do you like BBQ like Dolly?

I discovered that Dolly Parton and I have one thing in common.

I’ve never considered myself much of a Dolly Parton fan. Nothing against Dolly. She’s had an extraordinary career, but I wouldn’t have expected to find a culinary connection with the Queen of Country Music.

Dolly likes smoked barbecue ribs.

Maybe it comes from her humble Eastern Tennessee roots. I don’t know that for sure, and I don’t pretend that every food preference Dolly has can be traced back to the Smoky Mountains.

BBQ has a place in her empire. Her theme park, Dollywood, serves smoked and barbecue dishes, and her dinner attractions turn a meal into part of the show.

So, Dolly, this one’s for you.

*******

Wet or dry?

I’m beginning a little series on BBQ ribs, because ribs are one of those foods I could eat far more often than is advisable.

Like Dolly, I prefer them smoked, and I prefer dry ribs.

There are two BBQ rib camps.

Wet ribs are finished with barbecue sauce. The sauce can be sweet, tangy, spicy, smoky, or some combination of all four. It gives the ribs a glossy coating and plenty of flavor.

My favorite is yellow sauce that includes mustard. The recipe originated in the Carolinas and the Florida Panhandle.

Dry ribs rely on the rub and the smoke. A mixture of spices, at least salt, pepper, paprika, garlic, onion, brown sugar, or other seasonings, is rubbed directly onto the meat before it goes into the smoker. The result is a darker, crustier exterior, with the smoke and seasoning doing most of the talking.

I like that.

If the meat has been smoked properly, why cover it up?

A good dry rib should taste like pork, smoke, and seasoning, and not like whatever happens to be the dominant ingredient in a bottle of barbecue sauce.

*******

Brothers from England, BBQ in Denver

Today’s ribs came from Brothers BBQ in Broomfield.

I had been fasting, and after leaving the doctor’s office, I didn’t have to travel far to find an early dinner. About two miles later, I sat down with a plate of ribs.

Brothers BBQ has an interesting history. I came across their first store at Monaco Parkway and Leetsdale Drive and struck up a conversation with them in 1998.

Chris and Nick O’Sullivan hailed from England but were raised in Denver. While traveling around the country, they stopped at barbecue joints everywhere they went, sampling regional traditions from Kansas City and Memphis to Texas and South Carolina.

Their style is essentially Colorado BBQ, a little bit of everywhere. That fits Denver, where people have arrived from just about everywhere else.

*******

The usual

I’m not much of an adventurous eater.

When I find something I like, I tend to stick with it. There is no need to scan the menu and take a chance.

I ordered the rib special. Compared to other BBQ joints, Brothers serves huge Daddy Back ribs, rather than smaller Baby Back Ribs.

For sides, I went with baked beans and coleslaw. Instead of sweet tea, I bought a Voodoo IPA brewed by New Belgium up the road in Fort Collins.

The ribs arrived looking like ribs ought to look: smoked, seasoned, and ready to be attacked with my hands. I go through a lot of napkins.

This is one of barbecue’s great advantages. It doesn’t require much ceremony.

Pick up rib.

Eat rib.

Repeat.

*******

The $23 special

There was a time when ribs were associated with inexpensive food, the kind of thing working people could cook slowly and feed a family without spending a fortune.

That isn’t the case anymore.

My rib special, a beer, sides, and tip came to about $23.

That’s not unusual for BBQ these days. The once simple pork rib has joined the ranks of foods that can make a respectable dent in the wallet.

I suppose that’s what happens when something once considered ordinary becomes an American culinary art form.

People now debate barbecue the way wine people debate grapes.

Texas or Kansas City?

Memphis or Carolina?

Wet or dry?

Hickory or oak smoke?

The server brought over a condiment rack with three kinds of sauce on the side.

*******

Smoke beats my backyard grill.

I try my hand at grilling ribs from time to time.

Every once in a while I’ll buy a rack and throw it on the grill. I get reasonably good results, but the flame burns off most of my rub. My version is edible, and it makes me appreciate restaurants that know what they’re doing.

I haven’t managed to duplicate the flavor of properly smoked ribs. My upstairs neighbor is from Florida and has a smoker. I should collaborate more with him.

Time is an ingredient, too.

You can’t hurry good BBQ. The meat has to sit there and absorb the smoke while connective tissue slowly breaks down and the exterior develops that beautiful crust.

That’s the magic of barbecue.

Fire does the cooking.

Time does the work.

Smoke and rub supply the personality.

Dolly and me

Now, every time I eat ribs, I’ll think about Dolly Parton, except when I hear “Jolene.”

I may not have listened to enough Dolly Parton songs over the years, but we agree that ribs should be smoked.

BBQ doesn’t care about your roots.

Dolly came from the hills of East Tennessee.

The O’Sullivan brothers came from England and traveled America looking for BBQ.

I came from Wyoming and eat ribs wherever I happen to be.

Different roads. Same destination.

Put a rack of ribs in the smoker and don’t mess with it too much.

Dolly, I’m with you on this one.