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Paprika Dry Rub — The Seasoning That Makes the Prime Rib Worth Waiting For

Christmas is next week. Mom has been baking since the first of December — it's her seasonal mode, the way some people go into a particular gear at certain times of year and you just work around it. The kitchen belongs to her in December and that's correct. I stay out of the way and wash dishes on request and taste things when asked.

I have been asked to make the prime rib for Christmas dinner, which I've done for the last four years and which has become the thing people expect me to do. The prime rib is a forgiving cut cooked at high heat for a short time and then rested — the approach is opposite of braising, which I'm more naturally comfortable with, but I've done it enough times now that the process has become its own kind of confidence. Season heavily with salt and pepper the night before. Take it out of the cold two hours before cooking. Four hundred and fifty degrees for fifteen minutes, then down to three-twenty-five until the internal temperature hits one-ten. Rest for thirty minutes before carving. Simple. Works every time.

Talked to Father Brannigan after mass Sunday. He asked how the writing was going and I told him about the essay on place, that it had found a good reception. He said he'd read it, which surprised me — I hadn't known he followed the RecipeSpinoff. He said it reminded him of a Thomas Merton passage about the desert — the idea that staying in one place long enough, you begin to see what the place is actually made of. I wrote that down when I got home. It's close to what I was trying to say and said it better than I did.

The solstice is Saturday. After that the days start getting longer, barely perceptibly at first, but they start. That matters. The turning of the light matters to me in a way I wouldn't have admitted when I was younger, when I thought acknowledging things like that was soft. I've gotten softer in the last few years. I think it's the right direction to go.

The process I described — heavy seasoning the night before, two hours out of the cold, the blast of high heat followed by patience — only works if the seasoning itself is doing its job. Salt and pepper alone will get you there, but over the last couple of years I’ve worked a paprika dry rub into the routine, and it’s become as much a part of Christmas dinner as the roast itself. It’s the kind of thing you mix in two minutes, press into the meat before you go to bed, and wake up knowing the hard part is already done.

Paprika Dry Rub

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 5 minutes | Servings: Makes enough for one 4–6 lb prime rib roast

Ingredients

  • 2 tablespoons smoked paprika
  • 1 tablespoon kosher salt
  • 1 tablespoon coarse black pepper
  • 1 teaspoon garlic powder
  • 1 teaspoon onion powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
  • 1/2 teaspoon dried rosemary, crushed
  • 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional, for mild heat)

Instructions

  1. Combine. Add the smoked paprika, salt, black pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, thyme, rosemary, and cayenne (if using) to a small bowl. Stir until evenly blended.
  2. Apply. Pat your prime rib roast completely dry with paper towels. Press the dry rub generously into all surfaces of the meat, coating every side thoroughly.
  3. Rest overnight. Place the seasoned roast on a rack set over a rimmed baking sheet. Leave uncovered in the refrigerator for at least 8 hours, or overnight. This allows the salt to work into the meat and the surface to dry out, which promotes a better crust.
  4. Bring to temperature. Remove the roast from the refrigerator 2 hours before cooking to let it come closer to room temperature. Proceed with your preferred roasting method.
  5. Store extra rub. Any leftover rub can be stored in an airtight jar at room temperature for up to 3 months. It works equally well on pork, chicken, or grilled vegetables.

Nutrition (per serving, rub only)

Calories: 12 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 2g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 580mg

Ryan Gallagher
About the cook who shared this
Ryan Gallagher
Week 195 of Ryan’s 30-year story · Billings, Montana
Ryan is a thirty-one-year-old Army veteran and ranch hand in Billings, Montana, who cooks over open fire because microwaves feel dishonest and because the quiet of a campfire is the only therapy that works for him consistently. He hunts his own elk, catches his own trout, and makes a camp stew that tastes like the mountains smell. He doesn't talk much. But his food says everything.

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