By The quiet after Easter. I am beginning to think of post-Easter week the way athletes think of recovery days — necessary, unglamorous, the time when the body reminds you of everything you asked it to do and presents a bill. My knees filed their complaint by Tuesday. My feet followed by Wednesday. My right shoulder, which has been stirring pots for thirty-eight years, sent a formal grievance by Thursday. I acknowledged all complaints and continued cooking, because a woman who stops cooking because her body hurts is a woman who has stopped living, and I am not stopping.
Calvin Junior called midweek with news: the woman from July Fourth, Tasha, is no longer in the picture. He did not explain why and I did not ask because some things a mother does not need to know and some things a son does not need to share. I said I am sorry baby, and he said I am okay Mama, and we moved on to the important topic, which was whether he was eating properly, which he was not, which I could hear in his voice because a mother can hear hunger the way a musician can hear a flat note.
The garden is producing. The first tomatoes are still green and hard but the okra is starting to bud and the collard greens are coming in thick and proud. I pick a few leaves every couple of days and cook them fresh — just a small pot, enough for me and Calvin, with a little vinegar and a piece of smoked meat. Fresh garden collards taste different from store-bought. They taste like the dirt they grew in. They taste like the rain that fell on them. They taste like the hands that planted them, which are my hands, and my hands taste like Mama's hands, and Mama's hands tasted like the earth in Bessemer, and the earth in Bessemer tasted like home. Everything connects. Everything circles back. The garden is a recipe that writes itself.
Made a simple dinner Friday night — pan-fried pork chops, rice, fresh collard greens from the garden, and cornbread. Three ingredients from my backyard, one from the store, and the result was a meal that tasted like spring in Birmingham, like warm evenings and open windows and the sound of Marcus in the next room playing music too loud, which is the sound of a boy being alive, and I will take that sound over any song.
Saturday I cleaned out the pantry and made a list of what needs restocking. The list is my hymnal. The grocery store is my sanctuary. The cart is my offering plate. I push it down the aisles and fill it with the ingredients that will become the meals that will feed the people I love, and the pushing and the filling is its own form of devotion, as real as any prayer I have ever prayed.
That Friday dinner — the pork chops, the garden collards, the cornbread — reminded me that pork has a way of anchoring a meal the way a hymn anchors a Sunday service: everything else finds its place around it. So when I thought about the recipe that belongs alongside this week, I landed on these white barbecue sauce ribs, because the sauce is tangy and cooling in a way that felt honest after so many warm, heavy days, and because cooking ribs low and slow is exactly the kind of work a tired body can still do. You season them, you trust the heat, and you let time do what time does best.
White Barbecue Sauce Pork Ribs
Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 2 hours 30 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 50 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 racks baby back pork ribs (about 4 lbs total), membrane removed
- 1 tablespoon kosher salt
- 1 teaspoon black pepper
- 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
- 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
- White Barbecue Sauce:
- 1 cup mayonnaise
- 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
- 2 tablespoons prepared horseradish
- 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
- 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
- 1 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon sugar
- Salt to taste
Instructions
- Prepare the ribs. Preheat your oven to 300°F. Pat the ribs dry with paper towels and remove the thin membrane from the back of each rack by loosening it with a knife and pulling it off with a paper towel for grip.
- Season generously. Mix together the salt, black pepper, smoked paprika, garlic powder, onion powder, and cayenne in a small bowl. Rub the spice mixture evenly over both sides of the rib racks, pressing it into the meat.
- Slow-roast the ribs. Wrap each rack tightly in two layers of aluminum foil and place on a rimmed baking sheet. Roast in the preheated oven for 2 hours to 2 hours 30 minutes, until the meat is tender and beginning to pull back from the bones.
- Make the white barbecue sauce. While the ribs roast, whisk together the mayonnaise, apple cider vinegar, horseradish, Dijon mustard, Worcestershire sauce, black pepper, garlic powder, and sugar in a medium bowl until smooth. Taste and adjust salt as needed. Refrigerate until ready to use.
- Finish under the broiler. Remove the ribs from the oven and carefully open the foil — the steam will be hot. Set the oven to broil. Brush the ribs liberally with white barbecue sauce and broil on a foil-lined baking sheet for 4 to 6 minutes, until the sauce is bubbling and lightly caramelized at the edges.
- Rest and serve. Let the ribs rest for 5 minutes before cutting into individual or two-bone portions. Serve with extra white barbecue sauce on the side for dipping.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 680 | Protein: 42g | Fat: 52g | Carbs: 5g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 890mg