Ribs are undoubtedly a cornerstone of American summer barbecues, especially in the South where it's practically an art form. Die-hard 'cue masters will argue there's a difference between barbecue and grilling. And there is: Barbecue is a low and slow process of cooking meat in a smoky humid environment.
Grilling is about quick contact-cooking. Steaks and burgers are grilling. Ribs and pork shoulder are barbecue. Barbecue can be broken down further into wet and dry versions. It's pretty self-explanatory but the debate as to which is better is one that will never be decided upon. The secret is in the sauce—or is it the rub?
What most Americans know as barbecue is based on the wet barbecue technique that originated in Kansas City. Large food brands further popularized wet barbecue with their lines of sauces. Wet barbecue is all about the sauce whereas dry barbecue is all about the rub. No thick sauce is used to baste the meat except for a mop sauce (typically made with vinegar, which helps keep the meat moist). You'll find dry barbecue in Memphis, where they serve sauce on the side for dipping, but you will never see it slathered on the meat. Most at-home barbecue includes a combination of both dry and wet methods.
Many years ago, my mother-in-law’s niece made a trip to England. She brought two gifts back for my mother-in-law — a Bone China tea cup and saucer and a cookbook. I was the lucky daughter-in-law who got both of her English treasures after she died.
In the Deep South, spoonbreads are our version of bread puddings and Yorkshire pudding and other European pudding-esque breads. Referred to as “spoonbreads” for their gooey texture, consistency, and easy enjoyment with a spoon, these quick and easy delights have arisen from surplus and derelict circumstances alike – too many squash to eat at once or not enough of this and that to make a complete recipe!
Fall is definitely in the air here in the Willamette Valley. The night temperatures have been in the mid-40's and the leaves are turning orange and brown to mark the season. The kids are already asking for flannel sheets to be put on their beds. I don't blame them, it's cold at night.
The 1940s were a good time for drinking; eating, however, could be a dicey affair. Grapefruit fluff, published in The Times in 1941, was like a shining beacon in the sea of dull food. When looking for recipe inspiration in the paper’s archives, I moved right on by the date
icebox pudding made with evaporated milk and the fruit turnovers that called for
canned fruit. (A footnote, which only further proves my point: the
original recipe had the uninspiring name “Grapefruit Dessert.” I
changed this to fluff, for reasons you’ll understand when you make it.)