Sauce Required; Napkin Optional

About author / Sarah Christine Bolton

Coffee addict; professional food writer; food fusion. Her slow cooker recipes go above and beyond your normal crockpot fare.

When I first moved to Memphis, TN more than a year ago, I had no idea what the heart of the city was. I was surprised to find a large, silver pyramid glistening beside the river. I also discovered that there are three things that mean a lot to a true Memphian: Elvis, the blues, and barbeque.

In fact, Memphis calls itself the “barbeque capital of the world.” I won’t debate the legitimacy of that fact at this point, but I will say that there is some pretty dang good BBQ here.

This year, I decided to brave 'Memphis in May,' a month-long festival of music, BBQ, and more music. Although Music Fest was basically a mud puddle under a deluge, it was awesome to hear some amazing bands. BBQ Fest was cool, but I will make sure I know someone with a booth next year (to score some free samples!).

I was working in downtown Memphis during Memphis in May this year, and leaving work each day was like torture. The smells of barbeque wafted through the streets, tempting everyone with a smoky, sweet aroma.

While Rendezvous is probably one of the more well known barbeque joints in town, it isn’t necessarily the best. The Germantown Commissary (in Germantown) and Corky’s Barbeque are two of the best places to find a slab of ribs in Memphis.

I sat poised at my computer, ready to begin an elaborate description of the history of barbeque. And then, it hit me. I realized I had no idea what the history of barbeque really was.

That’s pretty sad, since I live in Memphis, the barbeque capital of the world. I’m hoping that no one from Memphis reads this…otherwise I’ll be disgraced.

Thankfully, the history of BBQ is well documented and searchable on Google. I was surprised to find out a few facts, and I also was encouraged that I actually knew more than I thought I did.

One thing I did discover is that while Memphis might claim to be the “barbeque capital of the world,” many other cities claim that title as well, including Kansas City, Lexington and, surprisingly, Santa Maria, California (for its excellent beef tri-tip barbeque).

The first thing to clear up is the difference between grilling and barbequing. Most of us bring out the charcoal grill, throw on some ribs, and call it barbeque. Actually, that is grilling. The difference is that grilling is done over a hot fire (or coals) and is mostly open. Barbeque is done over a cooler heat and done in a closed pit or pot.

Also important to know is that there are two ways to barbeque: dry rub and wet rub. Dry rub includes using salt, brown sugar, and spices to create a mixture that is rubbed onto the meat before cooking. Wet rub is…you guessed it, saucy! Lots of sauce during and after the cooking process.

The word barbeque is thought to have come from the West Indian word “barbacoa,” which was a method of cooking meat slowly over hot coals. Barbeque became common in the South because pigs were a low maintenance, convenient food source. Before the Civil War, Southerners ate an average of five pounds of pork for every pound of beef.

Every part of the pig was utilized-- the meat was either eaten immediately or cured for later consumption, and the ears, organs and other parts were transformed into edible delicacies. Pig slaughtering became a time for celebration, and the neighborhood would be invited to share in the largesse. The traditional Southern barbecue grew out of these gatherings.

Eighteenth century author William Byrd wrote a book called “The Secret History of the Dividing Line Betwixt Virginia and North Carolina.” In it, he basically says that because southern people eat so much pork, they actually have pig-shaped noses. Now, I’ve heard a lot of pretty outlandish and hilarious stereotypes about the south, but that one pretty much tops anything I’ve ever heard. And all I have to say is that if barbeque does indeed cause your nose to flatten and turn up, it’s totally worth it.

Serves/Makes: 6

• 3 pounds pork spareribs
• salt and pepper
• 1 bottle (16 ounce size) barbecue sauce