Monday 27 May
Our brother in law David got up at
6:30 A.M. to fire up his smoker for three giant racks of pork ribs, thus
winning the prize for Most Beloved Parker In-Law yet again (as he does whenever
he makes biscuits, or gives us venison to take home). They
were marinated, dusted, and mopped with secret ingredients that made them
literally fall off the bone with succulence, and they (and a few ears of silver
and gold corn) were all we needed for a midday Memorial Day screen-porch
picnic.
Afterwards we had to head north
again (with Dora meowling a little softer this time), our only comfort being a
generous portion of ribs that David had tucked into our cooler for later. And even after six hours, when we had crossed
the river and were back in Cincinnati, all we needed that evening was a salad of garden
lettuce (and olives and artichokes and zucchini). Moral: ribs stick to your ribs.
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