meat

Ribs...they are probably the most over-rated part of beef or pork. Marinated, basted, raked over coals, there are a plethora of preparation and flavor that can be imparted on them, yet there is one reason why I am not a big fan of ribs: its a whole lot of work for little return. Sure, the taste can be sublime, like the slab of ribs I had in Memphis almost seven years ago. I still remember the tangy sauce aerosoled in the meaty steam stinging my nostrils and the taste of beautifully smoked meat paired with hickory, pepper, and salt. There is a visceral joy in licking your fingers and gnawing on the rib bones, wrapped in the memory of the delicious meat.

However, that's the biggest flaw. I was done with a rack of ribs, thirsty as hell, but not really full. There is a pleasant filling quality with most meat: the belly protrusion after hearty helpings of pot roast swimming in tomatoes and herbs; the gut stretching after a 16 ounce porterhouse runs ram shod down your throat and lays siege to your gut; even the slabs of Mom's meatloaf, with gravy or tomato sauce, slung down with mac and cheese and cornbread. Ribs are from a whole different planet, similar to any meat that's served as an appetizer at Applebees. They please the palate with tantalization, but ultimate leave you, like Teddy KGB, unsatisfied.

I also feel this way about any entree that entices you with yummy morsels that don't fill you up. Darn you, rack of lamb. A pox on you, a single joint of squab. I shall have my vengeance, any dish that leaves you wanting more.

I understand the adage of magicians...you don't want to fully satiate the audience, because you run the risk of boring them. You also lose repeat customers. Chefs and restaurateurs have learned the lesson, with the finer the cafe, the less substantial the meal. Eating at Brass Elephant, I remember being saddened that I was still hungry after four courses that cost more than I made in a week. At Tapas Teatro, I inhaled three dishes, tasty as the brightness of the color scheme of the dishes, and grumbled my way over to the crepe place to eat sometime filling.
I eat for two reasons: to enjoy something tasty, and to get full. My waist line does not want something that excites the taste buds but does not knock out the ravenous stomach. Otherwise, I go home and consume mass quantities of crappy starch.

Ribs. They are finger food...on the same class as most shellfish, a bowl of soap, sashimi, rack of lamb, anything truffled, lobster ravioli, french towers of terrine that look like little castles, avant guard molecular gastronomy...they're awesome, they're great, but they frustrate.

Give me honest food. The flavors knock you out, flat flakes of parsley, scoops of unclarified butter, whole grains, rustic cuttings of anything. Heap it into a bowl, steaming up my glasses as I slurp noodles, chew chunks of chicken, and feel the tingle of liberal applications of paprika.

And, if you're gonna serve meat, make it a steak or a roast or even a hamburger, and not those teasing rib temptresses. There needs to be more meat on those bones.