When I was in Spain I had many opportunities to talk food with the locals. I would often ask what were typical dishes, beverages, fruits and vegetables of whatever area I was visiting. More than once, a Spaniard would ask me about the “typical” American food. After taking too long to produce an answer, a woman from Valencia proclaimed McDonald’s hamburgers to be our most authentic food and changed the topic to something else. It was at this moment I realized that I needed to discover a legitimate answer to this question. After talking to several friends, reading numerous articles and pensively thinking over many meals the only suitable answer I could come up with was barbecue. Because America is such a conglomeration of every possible ethnicity imaginable, most of the cuisines we eat are various fusions and bastardizations of the foods from across the ocean. BBQ—along with the clambake I found out this weekend—are two Native American traditions that have survived until today. After listening to a couple of seminars about the stuff and eating my fair share of barbecued goodies this weekend, I have to hand it to the Native Americans for creating a culinary tradition worth bragging about to the snooty gourmands to the west.
The event took place in Madison Square Park—right next to the always-crowded Shake Shack—over June 7th and 8th. A stage was erected at the mouth of the park and was flanked by two delicious but over-priced beer tents. Rogue, Smuttynose, Blue Point and Magic Hat were only a few of the tasty brews that were too expensive for me to enjoy. Small tents from other, less delicious sponsors (e.g. American Express and Party Rental LTD.) were scattered throughout park along with people chomping away and lounging on various grass patches. The meat of the festival, however, was located on the perimeter of the park; here were the BBQ tents. Each Pit Master/Restaurant had a tent full of whatever cooking apparatus they utilized to produce endless plates of pork, ribs and beef.
In addition to the food and drink, there were free BBQ seminars. Now, while most people couldn’t care less about hearing BBQ “experts” debate about sauces, cooking methods, meats and—my favorite—the geography of barbecue, I couldn’t have been happier. I was able to see Calvin Trillin, the author of Tummy Trilogy and writer for the New Yorker since 1963, discuss the geographical boundaries of BBQ. While seminars like these might seem pretty one-dimensional, the talks brought up a lot of interesting points. For example, now that we can ship any food anywhere we want, are we losing track of our regional specialties? Are States and counties losing their idiosyncratic culinary traditions? Are small restaurants—backwoods places where grandma or grandpa has been cooking for over 50 years—on the verge of extinction because new, super-restaurants have the capital to bring “authentic taste” out of the swamp and into the big city? These questions and more were raised at these seminars. Despite the wealth of knowledge I obtained, the seminar tent made sure I didn’t leave empty handed. I walked out of the tent with a handy “The Geography of ‘Cue: The Sauce Boundaries of South Carolina” topographical map. What luck!
On the second day I had the honor of seeing Jeffery Steingarten speak about competition BBQ. In case you don’t know, Steingarten is author of the amazing book, The Man Who Ate Everything, food critic at Vogue, judge on Iron Chef America and the food personality most loathed by many of my friends. If you’ve ever caught a clip of him on Iron Chef or read anything about or by him, you probably have the idea that the Harvard educated Steingarten gives off a pretentious air of superiority. Well, after seeing him discuss, disagree and argue with three of America’s most seasoned and prominent BBQ Pit Masters and experts I can safely say everything you thought about the man is correct! He is slightly arrogant and pompous--albeit an incredibly knowledgeable food personality--who takes every opportunity to disagree with everything that is said about a certain topic. Whenever a question was thrown his way, Steingarten never missed a chance to completely deflate the conversation and put his own spin on things. I loved every minute of it.
As for the food itself, rarely have I tasted anything better. Chris Lilly, Pit Master at Big Bob’s Bar-B-Q in Alabama and Mike Mills, Pit Master at numerous restaurants and four-time world chmpion and three-time Grand World Champion of the Memphis in May festival, described BBQ best—it is a way to get people together, eat delicious food, enjoy some music and kick back some beers. The meat may not be the only part of barbecue, but it certainly takes the lime light. Both men claimed that the beauty of an event like the Big Apple BBQ was that instead of a competition, where the public rarely has a chance to sample the food and the Pit Masters are nervously overseeing every minuscule detail of roasting a whole hog or slow cooking numerous racks of ribs, the NYC festival allows the cooks to relax and prepare the food they would cook in their homes, much to the benefit of me and the masses assembled in Madison Square park. Needless to say, everything I tasted was delicious. My standout plate was a whole hog sandwich from Ed Mitchell, Pit Master from The Pit in Raleigh, North Carolina. The line for this tent wrapped around the block but the delicious aromas that clung to the city air assured me that the food would be well worth the wait. The sandwich starts by whole pigs cooked slow and low until the skin is crispy and pulls right off of the meat. The cooks then take the giant slabs of pig, chop it and mix everything together, making for a delicious mess of every part of the hog. It’s kind of like eating every delicious ham, pork and bacon plate you’ve ever had in one luscious, slightly spiced and juicy sandwich.
Despite not being able to try as many plates as I would have liked, everyone I spoke to loved what they sampled. The air was full of deliciously meaty smoke and people didn’t even mind the relentless 95-degree weather as they drank and danced along to the country, funk and surf bands that provided the entertainment for the weekend. I was out there in the middle of it all, sipping a Smuttynose IPA while wiping bbq sauce off of my lips and dancing to some hopping country and folk. Oh how I missed NY.
And some more photos:
Pulled Pork Shoulder and coleslaw-simple and delicious.
Up close of my whole hog sandwich. I might have to stop eating pig unless I am simultaneously eating every part of it.
Not from the festival, but fitting nonetheless. Some soul food I had at Miss Mamie's Spoonbread Too up on 110th. My buddy took me here and I couldn't have been happier--ribs, fried chicken, collard greens and a local beer from Harlem called Sugar Hill.
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