Ribs from my cooking archive; this photograph is not a step-by-step record of the method described below.
Let’s talk about ribs. Okay, let ME talk about ribs.
I’ve read blogs and forums, searched Google, watched cooking shows, and tried what feels like everything. The 3-2-1 method. The 2-2-1 method. Oven, grill, smoker. Different seasonings, sauces, rubs, mop sauces, wrapping in foil, wrapping in butcher paper, and not wrapping at all.
I’ve read, watched, cooked, tasted, and tried again. There always seems to be another way to make ribs, and somebody willing to explain why theirs is the right one.
After all that, my favorite method is pretty simple.
Salt. Pepper. Paprika. Smoke. An occasional spritz of apple juice. A couple of minutes on a hot grill at the end.
No wrap. No fuss. Just barbecue.
It took a lot of experimenting to figure out that this is how I like them.
What I’m Looking For
I want a rib that bites through easily and pulls clean from the bone. I don’t want the meat falling off before I take a bite.
That’s a preference, not a commandment. If fall-off-the-bone ribs are what you enjoy, make those. I’m telling you the result I’m after so you know what this method is trying to accomplish.
That matters more than collecting another trick. Before deciding how to cook something, it helps to know what you want to eat.
My Method These Days
I season spareribs with salt, pepper, and paprika. The paprika is there for color; I use smoked paprika if I have it.
Then I smoke them without wrapping, spritzing with apple juice about once an hour. My spareribs generally take five to six hours, but that’s a description of my cooks, not a promise about yours.
Around 200°F internally is where I expect to be near the finish. The number alone doesn’t make the decision. I also look for a good bend, with the surface just starting to crack. I’m looking for that easy bite and clean pull from the bone, not simply a thermometer reading.
There’s no wrapping stage in this version. I’ve tried it. I’ve tried plenty of other things, too. This is where I’ve landed for now.
Once they’re ready, I take them out of the smoker and throw them on a hot grill for a couple of minutes, just to get a little char.
I put out sauce if anyone wants it. Very few ever touch it.
I always tell people that if you need sauce, it wasn’t cooked right. Just my opinion. Wanting sauce is another thing entirely. That’s why it’s on the table.
A Little Less Complicated Than I Made It
My dad used to cook ribs low and slow on the grill and “paint ’em with hot sauce.” Frank’s, specifically. He sat and tended them, and as I remember it, they were delicious.
Remembering that makes me want to try his version again. It isn’t the same as the ribs I’m making now, but it reminds me that a method doesn’t need a long ingredient list to be worth keeping.
I Learned From Them. These Are Mine.
John Stage, Aaron Franklin, and Myron Mixon have all given me things to think about. I’ve learned from their approaches, tried ideas, and found out what worked for me.
But the goal wasn’t to spend the rest of my life making somebody else’s ribs.
I absorbed. I tried. I experimented. Eventually, I found what I like.
That doesn’t make the other methods wrong. It makes the experimenting useful.
Make Them Yours
Try a different seasoning. Try sauce. Try wrapping. Or keep things simple and see whether that gives you what you wanted in the first place.
Pay attention to the result. Was the bite right? Did you like the seasoning? Would you want to eat them that way again? You don’t have to agree with a pitmaster, a competition judge, or me.
And if you’re feeding people, ask for honest feedback. I always do. Don’t tell me you like something unless you want me to keep making it for you.
These are the ribs I like making now. I’m still allowed to change my mind.
You find what you like.