Root Beer BBQ Ribs

The last week of October and the sugarhouse inventory is done. I spent Thursday afternoon going through the equipment: the taps, the buckets, the evaporator. One cracked bucket needs replacing. Two tap gaskets gone. The evaporator fire bricks are in good shape. I noted all of this in the account book, as I do every November before the snow buries everything that might need attention. My grandfather did the same November inventory. I know this because I have read his entries for fifty years and they are identical in format to mine.

Halloween is Thursday. We got three trick-or-treaters, which is two more than usual. Rural holidays require adjustment in expectations. Helen puts candy on the porch and I eat what remains. This year the candy sat on the porch for three days because the temperature dropped to twenty-eight Wednesday night and the candy froze solid and I had to bring it inside to thaw before it was edible. Vermont does not adjust its schedule for holidays.

I made my first pot roast of the season this week — the proper fall pot roast, with root vegetables from the last of Helen's garden, a cup of hard cider, and the low heat of a 325-degree oven for three hours. The house smelled exactly right. The vegetables absorbed the braising liquid and became soft and rich, the beef fell apart at the fork, and the whole thing tasted like the season turning fully into itself. Summer is a different kitchen. This is October's kitchen: low and slow and patient.

David called Sunday. Teddy had a Halloween costume this year — a historical soldier, which David said he researched and got historically accurate and then wore to school where no one recognized what period it was from. I said this was a completely Bergstrom approach to a costume. David said he knows. He said he was twelve the year he went as Robert Frost. I said I did not tell him to do that. He said I did not stop him either. Accurate.

The pot roast that week set the tone for how I want to cook from now until mud season: low heat, enough time, and nothing rushed. Helen asked if I was going to make the ribs before the cold fully locked in, and I realized she was right to ask. Root Beer BBQ Ribs share the same logic as a good pot roast — you commit the afternoon to the oven, you don’t open the door every twenty minutes, and the house does the rest. That smell is its own kind of inventory: everything is accounted for, everything is in its place.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 3 hrs | Total Time: 3 hrs 15 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

3 lbs pork baby back ribs, membrane removed
1 can (12 oz) root beer
1 cup BBQ sauce, plus more for serving
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (optional)

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Heat oven to 300°F. Pat ribs dry with paper towels and place bone-side down on a large sheet of heavy-duty foil set inside a rimmed baking sheet.
Season. Combine brown sugar, smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, pepper, and cayenne in a small bowl. Rub the spice mixture evenly over all surfaces of the ribs.
Add the root beer. Pour the root beer around (not over) the ribs on the foil. Bring the foil up and crimp tightly to seal, creating a packet that will trap steam during cooking.
Slow-roast. Place the baking sheet in the oven and roast for 2 hours 30 minutes, undisturbed. The ribs should be very tender and pulling away from the bone when done.
Glaze. Carefully open the foil packet — steam will escape. Brush the ribs generously with BBQ sauce. Return to the oven, uncovered, for 20 to 30 minutes until the glaze is caramelized and sticky.
Rest and serve. Let the ribs rest 10 minutes before cutting into portions. Serve with additional BBQ sauce on the side.

Nutrition (per serving)

Root Beer BBQ Ribs — Low and Slow, the Way October Demands