Armed with plastic forks, wet wipes and our appetites, the four of us launched into a three hour tour of epicurean heaven. We tasted everything. Well, everything but the pig snoots.
“The snoot is pretty intense,” Ron said before we’d even begun. I looked at Goldner and then at Rachel. There weren’t any objections to skipping the snoot.
I met Ben’s friend, Ron Lieber at the release of 2 Do Before I Die, an inspiring collection of essays about, in simplest terms, making the most out of life. While chatting at the party on Ben’s roof deck on Wednesday night, we got on the subject of the Big Apple Barbecue. Ron, who is something of a barbecue expert, was going to be speaking on one of the event’s panels (going head-to-head with the infamously temperamental food editor from Vogue, no less) and would I like to be his guest?
Would I!
Sunday afternoon, I rounded up my two partners in BBQ love and we headed down to Madison Square Park. Ron’s panel was sold out, so the three of us stood outside waiting, trying to ignore the smoky siren song. I practically needed a leash for Goldner. And when Ron emerged from 11 Madison Park, it was game on.
Spare ribs, pork shoulder, beef brisket and sausage, baby back ribs and beans, beans, beans. And when there shouldn’t have been space for anymore, there was strawberry rhubarb cobbler.
Drool.
When I got home, I made myself hike the stairs up to my apartment (penance, you see), where I promptly collapsed into a food coma. Eight hours later, I haven’t really budged. Or eaten. I imagine it’ll be a while before I feel at all hungry again. Unless you’re talking about strawberry rhubarb cobbler, because I seem to have some appetite left for some more of that.
Mmmmmcobbler.
OH GOD was that strawberry rhubarb cobbler good. I went on Saturday…my little crew also quickly vetoed the snoot, though we had good fun saying “snoot” all day.
What a great New York event!
Is snoot snout? Because they salt those things and sell them as doggy chews here.
I realize I’m wasting my breath/pixels on a native Texan here, but BBQ is dead pig over hickory, NOT dead cow over mesquite or anything else.
The cobbler, of course, is in a class by itself.
MmMmmMm food coma..
And it proves you can take the girl out of Texas, but … well – you know the rest
mmmmmmmmm BBQ……. *drool*
I had hot peach cobbler last night topped with vanilla ice cream, and that was after I’d stuffed myself on a big Southern meal.
Cobbler is the best.
making me hungry. i need to be updated on a list of food events, cause clearly i’m not getting to the right places!
rhubarb strawberry cobbler sounds amazing, may have to go find some of that… now.
rhubarb strawberry cobbler sounds amazing, may have to go find some of that… now.
Good work, lass. Good work.
And, Lex, I’m sure you’re just having some fun with the Texan, because true barbecue fans must rise above regional partisanship to embrace all styles. Sure, you can still have your favorite and talk trash, but to claim that Texan brisket ain’t barbecue … well, that’s just hogwash. Pork is basically my religion, but I’ve a new-found respect for Texan brisket, because most Texans cue their brisket the way I cue my pork. With smoke … and minimal or no sauce. KC cue is fine, but too saucy. Memphis is highly overrated. Carolinas got it going on and Georgia gets no respect. And Texas, for a bunch of people who think too highly of themselves and who use cow for cue … well, they’re okay in my book.
But I think we can both agree there should definitely be more cue-related posts here.
Eastern North Carolina BBQ (pork) is the best in my book.
I always found the idea of a food editor at Vogue a bit of an oxymoron.
No food fights here, people. The only bad bbq is . . . well, bad bbq. Being originally from Virginia, I grew up on the Eastern Caroline pork on a bun, preferably with cole slaw. Best example in Virginia: Pierce’s Pitt (that’s two T’s) BBQ off of I-64 between Richmond and Norfolk. Living in northern Virginia, I came to have an appreciation for Memphis-style dry-rub ribs. For my six years in Texas, just about anything was good–Texans do know their bbq–pork, beef brisket, ribs. Now, living outside of Boston, finding good bbq is a struggle, but I make do. Best I’ve found: Uncle Pete’s in East Boston. And the search continues . . .
Gotta have the cobbler, though. Good choice, Fish. Mmmm…
You are making me hungry! Mmmm!! Baby back ribs! Oh lala!