How I prepare baby back ribs

This is a description of how I prepare baby back ribs.

Incidentally, you can get practically all of the ingredients for this recipe at Aldi, except perhaps cayenne pepper and smoked paprika.  I have no affiliation with Aldi, but in this economic climate, I figure we can all use hints for how to eat affordably.  Also, Aldi's baby back ribs are the best.  Honestly.  They are so good, and I get nothing for saying that.

I had no experience with ribs, but one day I was shopping at Aldi and I saw some baby back ribs that looked delicious.  I bought them, took them home, and began googling how to prepare them.  This is what I came up with:

(1) Purchase a rack of baby back ribs.  I think they are usually around 2 lbs?  I look for meaty ribs without too much fat.

(2) Assemble your seasonings on your work surface, and remove lids.  Put the brown sugar into a small bowl.

    a.  Fundamental seasonings that I figure I have to have: 

                salt or seasoned salt (sprinkle generously)

                cayenne pepper (sprinkle lightly)

                smoked paprika (sprinkle generously)

                garlic powder or granulated garlic (sprinkle generously)

                onion powder (sprinkle generously)

                brown sugar (sprinkle generously; I use 3-4 Tbsp. in total)

    b.  Optional seasonings depending on my mood:

                dry mustard (or spicy brown or dijon prepared mustard) **This almost qualifies as fundamental

                cumin

                celery seed

                oregano

    c.  Notes: Many recipes call for chili powder, but I don't care for it on ribs.  Also, many recipes call for fresh garlic and onion, which is fine if you want to use them, but I like the better control I get with powdered, and I do not notice any compromise in flavor.

(5)  Tear off a sheet of heavy-duty aluminum foil that measures 2.5 x the length of your rack of ribs.  Lay it out on your work surface with the shiny side up.

(4)  Unwrap the ribs in your sink and remove the membrane on the back by working a finger underneath it at the center, and then gently but firmly pulling up to peel it away in both directions.  Rinse the ribs and pat dry with a paper towel.  Lay upside down in the center of the foil and season the back/bottom with spices listed above, according to your taste.  Gently rub into the meat with your fingers, and flip the ribs right side up.

(5) Wash your hands and repeat the process of seasoning.  At the end of this, I usually put some spicy brown mustard in dollops over the top, but I do not put prepared mustard on the bottom (too messy), although if I am using dry mustard, I apply it both top and bottom.

(6) Bring the ends of the foil together, and seal loosely by rolling them together until the top is flat.  (Basically, you just want to get the ribs loosely sealed in a nice foil packet, but I'll try to digram the easiest way I've found to do this):

    The above diagram is looking at it from the side, and shows what it looks like if you actually get too much foil.  You won't have that loose a triangle, or that big a rolled seal, if you use 2.5 times the length of your rib rack.

    The above diagram is looking down on what you did previously, from the top.  And, I didn't illustrate the last step (see handwritten directions on diagram about rolling up the open sides), but hopefully you can figure out what I mean.  Or you can do it your own way.  I don't want to make a simple thing into a big deal.  You just want to seal up the meat enough to keep it tender, but not so tightly that it steams.  You will be pouring off the liquid that collects in the packet later, and my method is a relatively easy way to set you up to be able to open the sides of the packet and do that at the opportune time.

(7)  I am feeling very bad about my communication skills here.  But the main things: Lay ribs (membrane removed) on foil.  Season with mostly dry seasonings (maybe a bit of prepared mustard), and seal up in a foil packet.

(8) Place the foil wrapped, seasoned ribs on a large cookie sheet with edges (in case your packet leaks).  Place in oven and set to 275.  No need to preheat.  Bake for 3 hours.

(9) After the ribs have baked about 2 hours, prepare the BBQ sauce.  The amounts listed are guesses.  I never measure any of this, which should make you confident that there is a wide range of acceptability:

• 1/3 cup apricot preserves
• 1/3 cup steak sauce (Like A1, but I use the Aldi stuff; it's good.)
• 2/3 cup BBQ sauce (I like to look for a hickory smoke flavored one.  I usually use what is available at Aldi.)
• 3 Tbsp spicy brown or Dijon mustard
• 3 drops of liquid smoke.  Do not use too much of this.  But a little bit is delicious.

    Melt the apricot preserves over low heat in a heavy saucepan.  Add the rest of the ingredients and bring to a boil.  Reduce to very low heat and let simmer until you are ready to use it.

(10) When the ribs have baked 3 hours, remove them from the oven and carefully open the sides of the packet, one at a time, and drain excess juice from each side.  Don't drain them bone dry; just get most of the liquid, so they are not swimming in broth.

(11) Unroll the center seal of the foil to expose the ribs.  Press/crumple the foil up around the ends and sides of the ribs to create a snug vessel.  Pour the BBQ sauce over the ribs.  You want the snug vessel of foil to hold the sauce close to the ribs and prevent it from just running underneath them and leaking away.

(12) Return to oven and bake awhile longer.  Depending on your needs, you can bake them for 45 minutes at 275.  Or you can bake them for 25 minutes at 350.  Or you can even bake them for 10 minutes at 350, followed by a brief broil to caramelize some blisters on top.  If you do a slow, low bake and they don't look as crusty as you'd like, you can do a quick broil at the end of that, too.  This step depends on what you like, and your oven, and so many things.  Just be careful not to dry them out or burn them.  Check often during this step.  They don't need any more cooking at this point, but it is nice to give the BBQ sauce a chance to bake in and thicken.

That's it.  It's far easier than it seems when I write it all out.  This is a real man-pleaser, but I like them too.

The limits of pictures

We live in a visually driven culture.  

Sometimes I try to take a picture of my garden.  I can never capture what I want to capture when I step back to get a landscape view.  Trying again and again, I produce something that simply fails to pick up the varied colors of the flowers.  Or the photo makes everything look too far apart and spread out.  Or the house behind the garden is distracting, or the air-conditioner unit forms an eyesore.

Interior pictures are likewise frustrating.  I often find that the ceiling becomes a major impediment to my photo goals.  Why, when I never notice the ceiling when I'm in the room, is it all over the pictures I take?

Even at the beach, I struggle to capture with my camera what I see with my eyes.  I know there is an aspect of photography where you should simply look through your lens and take your picture when you are happy with what you see in the viewfinder.  But don't other people, besides me, sometimes have a gut desire to capture something they see with their eyes when they are not looking through their camera?

As I ponder the difference between what we really see and what we can photograph, I am concerned about how much of our life is spent chasing picture on our phones these days.  Oh, if we could only remember that what we see in those internet photos does not translate directly to real life.

We used to know a photographer named Holly.  She took the most beautiful pictures of people.  I don't think she had much, if any, formal training in photography, and she wasn't what you would call a tech whiz with her equipment, although she understood it well enough.  I marveled at how good her pictures were, trying to figure out her technique, and one day I realized what is was.  She loved people and saw the beauty in them.  Her own exuberant positivity and openness and kind-heartedness came through in her pictures.  She felt authentic affection for the people she was photographing, and enjoyed catching them at their best.

So there is sometimes an aspect of reality in the photographic image.  Sometimes a photograph realistically displays the heart of the photographer.

Sometimes.  Don't start quoting that the next time someone close to you takes a terrible picture of you by accident.  I love my gardens, but I really struggle to get good pictures of them.

Happy June (or Good-bye June, farewell Summer Solstice)

I keep trying to write, but I can't.

I have no more words.

Here is a picture of a lily that opened in my garden today.

Shading out weeds

 Gardening consumes my days and my energy.

You wouldn't necessarily know it by observing.  I'm a slow learner.  But over the past three springs, I have learned.  Although my garden is far from what would qualify as an accomplished garden, each year it is a little better than the year before.  This is both satisfying and reassuring.  Although I learn slowly, although the climate and light and soil are different every time I have to start over, although change is a constant and elusive factor, I am learning.

The previous homeowner here did some curious placement of plants.  I think back to our previous home, where we discovered peonies planted in the dense shade of the back beds, and I realize that when those people planted those flowers, the trees were probably much smaller and the yard much sunnier.  Here, I think it was partly a matter of working with little potted specimens from the garden center, forgetting to account for how they would grow.  The other part, I surmise, was an attempt to hide things from the voracious deer.

I spent a goodly amount of time and effort here, digging up small plants that were planted in shady spots behind tall plants, where they could neither be seen nor receive ample sunlight to grow.  I often asked myself, "Why would you plant a short plant behind a tall plant?"  

And yet, now that I am figuring things out, I find that I do it once in awhile, myself, on purpose.  For instance, I planted some hardy geranium (cranesbill) behind sedum and agastache, which are roughly twice its height.  This was a desperate attempt to figure out how to create an aesthetic display on our difficult south-western side, under a decorative maple that probably used to be much smaller than it is now.  Shaded by the tree and the house for most of the morning, this bed then undergoes incredibly harsh sun beating down from approximately 2 pm until 6 pm.  The sedum and agastache can pull through in the front row, but everything I used to try to plant behind them would topple forward, crushing them, reaching out scrawny branches desperate for sun during the shady mornings.  Finally, I stopped trying to back them with taller plants, and stuck in a hardy geranium that can accept some strong sun, but also doesn't mind shade.  Voila!  A lovely mound of foliage dotted with fuschia flowers now fills in behind the front row, and I don't think it looks bad.

Our house came with a surprise shade bed on the northwest corner.  It was a surprise, because when we moved in, the deer had eaten it down to nothing.  But the following spring, a lovely collection of ferns and hostas, and a black lace elderberry bush, popped up, delighting me.  Although it requires frequent and generous dousings with deer repellent, this bed is one of my joys.  I've added a pale pink astilbe.  Astilbes always make my heart sing.

The previous owners also planted a black cohosh and a purple oxalis in the shade bed.  Black cohosh gets very tall, with plumes reaching 5-8 feet.  Purple oxalis grows to 6-12 inches.  Of course they planted the oxalis behind the cohosh.  

To the left of this picture is the house, to the right, part of the back yard.  A large green fern graces the top, and a variegated hosta sits near the bottom.  The washed-out burgundy foliage that crosses over the grass line on the right, and the lacy green foliage under it are both part of the black cohosh, leaves at differing stages of maturity.  Though this photo is taken from above, you can kind of tell that the cohosh is tall, because of the differences in the camera's focus.  The little patch of deep purple on the left in the center is the purple oxalis, tucked away where it can't even be see from the yard.

I didn't know what either plant was until I was able to research and identify them.  I learned that purple oxalis is usually a houseplant, doesn't generally survive outside, and doesn't like to be moved.  So I left it where it is.  It has been a consistent delight, coming back reliably each year, quietly existing under the cohosh.  I only see this plant when I look for it, but when I do, there are almost always a few delicate pale pink blossoms floating among the dark purple foliage, brightening the dark shade in its corner.

See the hidden pink blossom?

The oxalis shades out a few weeds, and brings me joy when I happen across it after forgetting about it.  That is all of its existence.

When I garden, I often think about how plants are like people.  Of course, with plants, you always have next year to try again, and when you have children, you have one shot.  Only one.  Last year, the weather was very difficult, two late freezes and a tornado with hail.  Oh how I labored over my gardens, and how they struggled.  If the metaphorical equivalent happens to you with your children, that's that, and you have to take it and deal with it as best you can.  You will not get another cycle to try again.  This is a sobering truth, but it doesn't make me enjoy gardening any less.  If anything, it makes me love it more, growing patience as I grow plants, learning to wait and hope, deeply treasuring each new spring with its fresh start.

I also think about how plants thrive in the right environment.  I figure about 90% of gardening is finding the right spot to plant something.  It makes me wonder why we don't spend more time trying to find where people will thrive, assessing strengths and weaknesses and shepherding people into the places where they will blossom and flourish.

We don't all have to be roses.  We need all sorts.  Some people are like zinnias and grow tall and colorful in the brightest sun, attracting butterflies and cheering hearts.  Some people are like geraniums, pleasant and tolerant of many conditions, content to fill a supporting roll, not too imposing, not too showy, just really nice.

And some people are like purple oxalis, a houseplant stuck in a protected spot outside, displaying courage simply by surviving, beautiful only when someone takes the time to look for them.

Springing

 On Saturday, we went for a walk at Duke Gardens.

 

And the little man announced that his Grampy ("Rah Rah") was to carry him down the cherry tree lane and out to the car when he got sleepy.

Early Spring

One of my newest hellebores, starting to bloom.

We may be on the verge of a new world war,

but the sun shone strong and the temperature climbed to nearly 71 degrees,

on the last day of February!

It was my first dirty-fingernailed gardening day of the year.

I weeded around our sweet tea olive shrubs,

hoping the weed growing there is not one that sprouts back

if only a minuscule portion of its threadlike root is left behind.

How much easier it is to grow weeds than plants.

How much easier it is to cultivate bad habits than good ones.

I triumphantly transplanted two hyssops

that grew from seed last year in the Mother Berm.

The Mother Berm is doing what I hoped;

I can hardly believe it.

Simple things in a complex world.

Beautiful things that might easily be crushed under a heavy tread

as the world degenerates.

I have no plan except to throw myself on the merciful power of God

and stock my purse with a small packet of 

aspirin/acetaminophen/ibuprofen, cough drops, bandaids, sani-wipes, 

and arnica gel.

Spring is always a time of hope.

Blessed baby leaves emerging from the base of a perennial,

always a reminder of the resilience of life,

the will to come back,

the will to go on,

the search for our source and our destiny.

Confidence?

Every year since 2015, I have chosen a word to focus on.  To be strictly accurate, sometimes it has been a few words.  I call them Words of the Year.  I don't do New Year's Resolutions.  I do New Year's Words.  This is an exercise in learning, in mindfulness, and in examining my heart.  I am thankful to the Lord for giving me the idea and helping me grow through it. 

Many of these words hang with me: humility, abide, listen.  The process teaches me about important ideas and goals.  I have never mastered one of my year's words, although God has taught me much along the way.  I don't discard my words at the end of a year.  I keep them, like a list in my pocket.  I could, literally, write them into a list for my pocket, but I would lose the list, so I catalog them here.  I revisit them every so often, not probably often enough, but always in January.

Here is the history of my words-of-the-year:

2015--Peace

2016--Restoration (which changed to Goodness, Mercy and Unfailing Love)

2017--Faith and Gratitude (which grew to encompass Joy)

2018--I tried to make my words Power and Glory; however, God said, "Okay, but I actually want you to consider Humility.  Looking at my power and glory will help you understand humility."

Looking back, I can see that a fundamental shift occurred in 2018.  

I began this exercise in 2015, in response to a heartbreaking relational issue and family crisis.  Peace was what I wanted--peace among the members of my family, and freedom from worry and fear in my heart.  God responded gently, patiently, and let me spend a year seeking peace.  

I petulantly chose Restoration in 2016, because I was tired of waiting, tired of living in a broken place, impatient for things to be fixed and finished.  The Lord moved me in a different direction, redirecting my focus to Goodness, Mercy and Unfailing Love--He wanted me to look up at Him, not around at my circumstances.  

I made a step of progress in 2017, as I started to understand the importance of not simply "picking a word," but asking the Lord what He wanted me to work on and learn.  He led me to pursue Faith and Gratitude that year, then kindly, generously demonstrated to me that His path is the path of Joy.  

Nevertheless, in 2018, I tried again to take the helm.  I decided it was time for God to act, to show His Power and Glory, time for Him to fix my problems and give me a comfortable life.  He did show His power, by unmistakably letting me know that Humility was what I really needed.  My power and glory verse, 1 Chronicles 29:11, makes me grateful to be humble.

I never finished with humility.  I'm still pondering it, still learning about it.  Some days I stand in awe of the beauty of humility, and some days I stand in terror of the process of learning it.  Since 2018, I have tried (not necessarily successfully, but with conscious effort) to set aside my own goals, my own ideas of what life should look like, and especially my own timelines.  I have tried to entrust everything to God and be thankful that He is in control.  I have a prayer that helps me when I pray it: "Thank you Lord Jesus, that I can trust you because you are faithful, and good, and able to do all that you purpose and promise to do, through your almighty power."  

2019--I was not done with Humility.  My words that year were Humility, Love and Acceptance, but mostly Humility, because Humility is Love and Acceptance.  Particularly, Humility is loving people sacrificially by putting their interests above your own, and Humility is accepting what God brings into your life with faith that He is good, wise, and faithful, and can be trusted when nothing seems to make sense.

2020--Abide.  This was a good word, something that really cannot happen apart from humility.  I need to abide in Christ, and I need Him to abide in me.  Neither can happen when I cling to pride.  

2021--Listen.  This was an important word.  2021 showed me how much I fail to listen.  I also learned more about my lack of humility, as--in trying to improve as a listener--I also became more aware of other people's poor listening.

It's discouraging to me when I try to grow in a particular area, and then find myself noticing how others around me lack growth in the same area.  So much pride.  I can hardly wait to get to heaven and be completely relieved of this monkey on my back, this stinking pride that refuses to let go.

For the past two years, we have quarantined.  I have not made many friends in my new state.  We go to church, but have not forged relationships there, throughout a year of attending.  Granted, we often attend through zoom, and when we go in person, we wear masks.  Our other social contact comes through neighborhood and family.  We have met some sweet neighbors, outside in our neighborhood.  We see my son and his wife and their baby.  Occasionally we visit or are visited by family from out of state.  But it has been a quiet and lonely two years, even for me, a hard-core introvert.  Always skittish of people, I think I have developed some deep fears of people during this hiatus from the discipline of regularly challenging myself to leave my home and participate in the social landscape.

Because of these fears and anxieties, because sitting at home is akin to Abiding, and not talking is something like Listening, I thought perhaps God wanted me to consider the word Confidence this year.  I thought He might want me to walk more confidently as His child, in confidence that He loves me, will never forsake me, will complete His good work in me.

Then on New Year's Eve, something happened that rocked me violently.  Whatever confidence I had that God was working in me, growing me, forgiving me, and possibly beginning to bear fruit through me, whatever hopes I had that He was accomplishing anything in me, were attacked and battered.  Accusations assailed me and cut my legs out from under me, knocked the wind from my lungs: You will never be worthy.  You are a farce, a hypocrite.  You have failed, and your failures will never be undone.  You are awkward, an embarrassment, but even more than that, you are evil.  You are guilty.  It's all your fault, and you should be ashamed.  I looked back through years of old prayer journals.  The handwriting, the words looked like someone else's, or like lies.  Who are you, to think God would hear those prayers?  You think you know Jesus so well, and love Him so much.  But nobody who loved Jesus would do the things you've done.  You are despicable.

I know that some of these thoughts are accusations from the accuser, from the devil.  I know that they are not all true.  But the devil is a clever liar.  He doesn't tell far-fetched lies.  He tells lies that can easily be confused with the truth; that is why his deceptions are successful.  I am awkward and do stupid things.  I do have a track record of failures.  I am guilty of sin.  From these truths, it is a quick and easy slide to believing that I am beyond the grace of God's forgiveness, and that none of my spiritual growth could possibly be authentic.

They often say that unforgiveness only hurts the person who refuses to forgive, and I do not know why they say such a thing.  Unforgiveness deeply hurts anyone who is longing for forgiveness and reconciliation, and finds them unattainable.  When people withhold forgiveness from each other, it makes God's forgiveness very difficult to conceive.  How can I decide to walk in the freedom and grace of God's forgiveness, if someone next to me on earth insists that I am unforgivable?

Why did this happen on the eve of my starting a year with the word Confidence?  Literally, that is when it happened.  I thought I would wake up on January 1 with the word Confidence, and move to get up and out, carrying the light of Christ to places that need Him, because of His power at work within me (Ephesians 3:16, 20).  Yet, on December 31, I was struck a blow that made me more inclined than ever to stay in my house, in my bed, with a blanket pulled up over my head.

I do not know if Confidence is the word God has for me this year or not.  In the past, when I missed the right word, Jesus gently changed me mid-course.  So it's okay; I can start with Confidence and trust the Lord to lead me where He wants me to go.  

As I ponder it, I am frightened to think of Confidence being my word, because so often God works in us through creating oppositional circumstances.  For instance, we learn patience by enduring circumstances that make us feel impatient.  We learn trust by being afraid.  We learn joy by finding it in the middle of our sorrows, losses and lack.  I can surmise that learning Confidence will come through being mocked and scorned.  Well, if that is the case, maybe I did choose the right word, and God started me off on it a day early?

The plan was for Confidence to be the word of 2022.

The scripture, as of now, is 

~ 2 Corinthians 3:4-6 ~

Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God.  

Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, 

but our sufficiency is from God, 

who has made us sufficient to be ministers of a new covenant, 

not of the letter, but of the Spirit.  

For the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life.

In other words, through Christ's unfathomable love, demonstrated on the cross, we have access to the Spirit of God, who lives in us, imparts life to us, and makes us sufficient to be His temple and participate in His ministry of lovingly offering life to all who will come.  This is our confidence.