Ribs

Chocolate and chiles have been paired up for centuries in Mexico. Ancho-infused hot chocolate was a drink reserved for royalty, believed to produce strength and virility. The combo is especially tasty with beefy short ribs. You can substitute bittersweet chocolate for the Mexican chocolate; just add a pinch each of sugar and cinnamon and a few drops of almond extract—the ingredients that make Mexican chocolate unique.

This is the way to get tender, moist ribs without burning them. They take some time, but not much attention.

This is a really easy dish that takes some time. But once you get it started (which will take just five minutes or so), you can all but ignore it during the cooking, just checking every now and then to turn the ribs and make sure the liquid doesn’t dry out. To make this into a whole-meal stew, use two cups of water and add some peeled and chunked carrots or turnips, whole pearl onions or shallots, or all of these. Some shredded cabbage added during the last half hour or so of cooking is also good.

If you don’t see lamb ribs in your supermarket, the chances are that they’re being tossed. Both demand and profit are evidently so slim that they are not worth processing and putting out in the case. Which is a shame, because next to pork (spare) ribs, lamb ribs are the best down-and-dirty grill item I know. They’re also the cheapest. Where I live, it’s hard to pay more than a dollar a pound for them. Like spareribs, lamb ribs are the bones of the breast, separated into individual pieces. The supermarket meat department or butcher may give you the entire breast, or he may separate the ribs for you. If he does not, be sure to ask him to at least remove or cut through the breastbone, which will make cutting in between the ribs fast and easy. Lamb ribs require special treatment while grilling, because they are loaded with fat (this is one of the reasons they taste so good, of course). You can grill them very slowly or (my preference) parboil the ribs just for ten minutes or so, long enough to render enough of the fat so that it doesn’t catch fire the instant you put the ribs on the grill. You’ll still need to be careful during grilling; don’t leave the fire for more than a minute or two. Broiling them makes this somewhat easier, but you still have to keep an eye out; left unattended, they will burn. Any brushing sauce or spice rub you like is suitable here. My choice is a sweet but pungent amalgam of raw onion, strong mustard, and honey, marmalade, or maple syrup.

The name of this dish may be cute, but it also reflects its simplicity; it is an honest sweet-and-sour pork dish. While the ribs need to braise for at least 40 minutes, the preparation time is just 10 minutes or so. Ask your butcher to cut across the ribs to form 1-inch strips (a supermarket butcher can do this), then have him separate the ribs, or you can do that part yourself. This dish reheats perfectly. Serve the ribs with white rice.

Chinese fermented black beans (see page 207) keep forever and add a distinctive flavor to every dish they’re used in; best yet, most people like them immediately. This classic highlights them perfectly. Ask the butcher to cut the ribs into small pieces for you (a supermarket butcher can do this). Serve as a starter or an entree with steamed white rice.

No rib-cooking technique makes more sense than the one used in Korea, which begins with a tenderizing poaching and continues with a kind of dry-roasting in the fat and juices exuded by the ribs themselves, along with a dose of strong seasonings. It results in ribs that are dark, glossy, and so tender that just a tug of the teeth will pull them off the bone. If possible, ask your butcher to cut the ribs into 2-inch lengths, which will make them easier to cook (and to eat). I love these preceded by Pajon (page 80) and, of course, with some Kimchi (page 444) on the side, but you may serve them with white rice and a simple steamed vegetable. Other cuts of meat you can use here: short ribs (which will take considerably longer to cook in step 2).

A big rustic one-pot meal. Easily expanded with the addition of more vegetables. Serve with a salad for contrast, and some bread or rice if you like. Other cuts of meat you can use here: short ribs, oxtail, or veal shanks.

Oven-baked ribs, which were once the standard, are now uncommon, because everyone thinks grilled ribs are the thing. But these are delicious, great with rice or polenta, and far easier than grilling. But if you like, you can use this sauce for grilling, too: parboil the ribs in water until nearly tender, then grill them, basting with the sauce, until they are nicely browned. Other cuts of meat you can use here: chunks of pork shoulder, short ribs (which will need much more time), bone-in chicken thighs (which will cook much more quickly).

When we serve fried ribs at the restaurant, the reaction is always the same: “Fried ribs, we’ve never heard of those!” Well, they really are very good. We all love fried pork chops, so why wouldn’t we love fried ribs?

PAT My brothers and I are all “bourbon men.” We take ours neat, or lacquered to our ribs. Enough said. GINA I can’t believe I ended up with a bourbon-and-ribs man. Growing up, we always had chicken, hot dogs, smoked sausages, and burgers, but for some reason the ribs were always center stage. The women in my family were often throwing some crazy ingredient or other into their rubs and sauces—and don’t you know that we kept bourbon as one of them. We always had bourbon around for “ailments,” and not just the cooking kind. So what do I do? I go and marry a rib-grilling bourbon lover—was my life being planned even then? To this day, ribs and bourbon are like the “main act” in my life! Remember: in all grilling, the sauce and the rub must work together, like a good marriage. And when smoking those ribs, Pat will remind you to keep the heat “low and slow.”

PAT Let me tell you, there’s nothing like a perfectly seasoned smoked beef rib. Don’t be intimidated by their size; beef ribs are easier to cook than pork ribs. Removing the silver membrane on the inside of the ribs is key, particularly with beef ribs that have thick skin. (Start at the end of the bone with your fingers and it’ll pull right off.) Once the film of the membrane is removed, the sweet cherry-cola rub can really penetrate the meat. Cooking the ribs with indirect heat and hickory wood gives them a pull-off-the-bone tenderness and smoky flavor, and the sweet cherry-cola sauce added near the end infuses syrupy goodness into these beauties.

Memphis is known for its dry-rubbed barbecued ribs, which are all about intense spices and the unadorned texture of low-and-slow-cooked meat. The two-step cooking process I use here—the meat is first slow-cooked in the oven, then finished over a hot grill—ensures succulent, crispy-edged, tender ribs every time, rendering sauce fully optional. Even so, sauce person that I am, I usually can’t help myself from cooking the meat in beer and basting it with vinegar-based barbecue sauce for a little added flavor and tang. You can try making these ribs with and without the sauce and decide for yourself. Either way, you’ll need to let the ribs marinate for at least two or three hours before cooking.

This kho involves a little more work than the pork and eggs kho on page 146. You must first marinate the meat and then sear it before it settles into its long simmer. The extra steps produce a rich, roasty undercurrent of flavor that permeates the dish. These riblets have special meaning for my mom because her family prepared them for their month-long Tet festivities. An entire pig was slaughtered for the celebration, and the ribs were used in this kho. Since it reheats well, it is the perfect make-ahead dish for the Lunar New Year, a time when everyone is supposed to relax, rather than slave in the kitchen. When purchasing the ribs, remember to ask the butcher to cut them into strips for. For the best flavor, sear the riblets on a grill.

These addictive bite-sized riblets are perfumed by lemongrass, and the addition of caramel sauce to the marinade—a trick of the trade often used by food vendors in Vietnam—imparts deep color and flavor. Honey is a fine substitute that results in a slightly sweeter finish. Removing the tough membrane from the underside of the rack (a technique borrowed from American barbecue masters) and a long marinade yield riblets that are chewy-tender. The rack of spareribs must be cut through the bone into long strips. Don’t attempt this yourself. Instead, ask your butcher to do it. Serve the riblets as an appetizer or with rice for a satisfying meal. For a Viet twist on the classic American barbecue, pair the ribs with Grilled Corn with Scallion Oil (page 183) and a green salad or Russian Beet, Potato, and Carrot Salad (page 186).

Look no further for your next special-occasion meal, because this is it. Also known as a standing rib roast, this cut—tender, juicy, and loaded with flavor—is the king of beef. And as long as we’re celebrating, this dish is pushed to its over-the-top status by the accompanying béarnaise butter. This deceptively simple compound butter with shallots, tarragon, and a bit of tangy vinegar delivers the delicately herbal, luscious taste of a rich béarnaise sauce without the hassle and heaviness of its hollandaise base. The only thing I find lacking in most prime rib dishes is that crusty exterior I love, but I’ve taken care of that by borrowing a technique from my friends in Louisiana—blackening. It encrusts the luscious meat in an extra layer of flavor and texture.

This is barbecue belt cooking all the way. I don’t care if you’re in Austin, Texas, or Manhattan, New York—if ribs are on the menu, you’ve got to roll up your shirt sleeves and have a big stack of napkins ready. This dish has New Yorkers doing just that when it makes its weekly appearance at Bar Americain. Racks of meaty ribs are dressed up with a smoky spice rub for extra flavor. The rich barbecue sauce, spiked with the molasseslike flavor of bourbon, will leave even the most refined diners licking their fingers. It wouldn’t be proper barbecue without some corn bread to mop up every last delicious bit of flavor from the plate, and I like to serve this dish with a savory tomato one.

I’ve yet to meet a man—Texan or otherwise—who can resist these meltingly tender short ribs. (Most women can’t either, but they tend not to eat as many.) Serve them over a pile of creamy cornmeal mush and you’ll have a party full of satisfied customers. At one gathering, I asked a group of guys how many ribs they thought they’d eat. The majority estimated that three would be plenty. They changed their tunes after taking a few bites and revised the number upward to four or five—and they kept their word. Short ribs come in varying sizes, so I figure about a pound per person, especially if my guest list includes a bunch of guys with big appetites.

Austin chef Jesse Griffiths and his wife, Tamara Mayfield, brought succulent lamb ribs to my Fredericksburg garden party, and everyone devoured them. Jesse cleverly ensures these ribs are partyfriendly for guests and hosts alike—the recipe can mostly be done in advance. The ribs are initially simmered on the stove top and then need just a very short turn on a grill before serving. Jesse and Tamara are co-founders of Austin’s Dai Due Supper Club; their dinners are movable feasts staged at various local farms, vineyards, hotels, and private homes featuring local, sustainably produced ingredients prepared onsite by Jesse. If you can’t find lamb, pork spareribs or beef shortribs will work equally well. If you use beef ribs, they’ll need to simmer for 4 to 5 hours. You can simmer the ribs up to 24 hours in advance, and the glaze will keep for 3 weeks in the refrigerator