By Six months sober. Clay hit six months on August 19th, if you count from the day he entered the VA in December. Six months of no alcohol. He didn't announce it. He didn't make a thing of it. He just... kept going. One day at a time, which is the cliché that recovery programs use because it's true and because clichés become clichés by being true so many times that people stop hearing them, and the people who most need to hear them are the people who've heard them so many times they think they already know.
Six months. I know what six months means because I watched Earl drink for thirty-four years and I watched myself drink for fifteen years (less, and less destructively, but enough to know the shape of the problem) and I know that six months is a milestone and also a beginning. Six months means the habit is broken. It doesn't mean the desire is. The desire is a vine that you cut at the root and it grows back and you cut it again and it grows back thinner and you cut it again and eventually it doesn't grow back, or it grows back so thin you can ignore it, and that's sobriety: ignoring a thin vine while standing in a garden where every other vine is thriving.
To not-celebrate (because not-celebrating is the Hensley way and because acknowledging milestones makes Clay uncomfortable and because I respect his discomfort), I made Clay's favorite dinner: smoked ribs, corn on the cob, baked beans. The same meal as his birthday. The same meal as every milestone. The ribs are the language. The ribs say: I see you. I see what you've done. I'm not going to say it out loud because loud is not our way, but I'm going to smoke these ribs for five hours and the five hours of tending and the smoke and the bark and the pulling of the meat from the bone — that's the sentence. That's the whole sentence. Eat.
He ate. Three racks between the two of us. We sat on the back porch in the August evening and ate ribs and drank ginger ale (both of us — I'm at nine months of solidarity, which is longer than I planned but shorter than I'm willing to stop) and the evening was warm and the fireflies were out and six months of sobriety sat between us on the table, unnamed, uncelebrated, acknowledged in the only way that mattered: ribs. Ribs and ginger ale and fireflies and the specific peace of a man who has decided to live and a father who has decided to stand beside him while he does.
The ribs I smoked that August evening aren’t a recipe I can hand you — they’re thirty years of muscle memory, a specific smoker, and a specific silence I can’t package up. But this pulled pork comes from the same language: low heat, a long commitment, smoke doing the slow work that words can’t. If you need to say something to someone without saying it, put a pork shoulder on in the morning and let the hours do the talking — then pile it on a bun with this white sauce, pour two ginger ales, and sit outside until the fireflies come out.
Pulled Pork Sandwiches with White Barbecue Sauce
Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 3 hrs 30 min | Total Time: 3 hrs 50 min | Servings: 8
Ingredients
- 3 to 4 lb boneless pork shoulder roast
- 2 teaspoons smoked paprika
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1 teaspoon onion powder
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
- 1/4 cup water
- White Barbecue Sauce:
- 1 cup mayonnaise
- 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
- 1 tablespoon prepared horseradish
- 1 teaspoon sugar
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
- 8 hamburger buns or sandwich rolls
- Coleslaw, for serving (optional)
Instructions
- Make the rub. Combine smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, black pepper, and cayenne in a small bowl. Pat the pork shoulder dry with paper towels, rub all over with olive oil, then coat evenly with the spice mixture. Let rest at room temperature for 15 minutes while the oven or smoker preheats.
- Low and slow. Preheat oven to 300°F (or set your smoker to 250°F with hickory or apple wood). Place the pork in a roasting pan or Dutch oven, pour in the apple cider vinegar and water around (not over) the roast. Cover tightly with a lid or foil.
- Roast until tender. Cook for 3 to 3 1/2 hours, until the pork is fork-tender and an internal thermometer reads 195°F to 205°F. If using a smoker, cook uncovered the full time, spritzing with apple cider vinegar every hour.
- Pull the pork. Remove from heat and let rest, covered, for 20 minutes. Using two forks or your hands (once cool enough), pull the pork into shreds, discarding any large pieces of fat. Toss with a few spoonfuls of the pan drippings to keep it moist.
- Make the white sauce. While the pork rests, whisk together mayonnaise, apple cider vinegar, horseradish, sugar, black pepper, garlic powder, and cayenne until smooth. Taste and adjust seasoning. The sauce should be tangy, creamy, and just a little sharp — it keeps in the refrigerator for up to a week.
- Build the sandwiches. Toast the buns lightly if you like. Pile on a generous heap of pulled pork, spoon the white barbecue sauce over the top, and add coleslaw if using. Serve immediately with whatever else needs saying.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 540 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 28g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 680mg