7/22/2004 10:06:05 AM
Pulled Pork Barbecue and Sauces 
Sauce Key
People will ask, so you might as well make a sign.
Talking and Mustard Sauce7/22/2004 10:09:07 AM
OhBoyOhBoyOhBoy! I’m so excited! It’s a new day, and that means I can post on here again without seeming like I’m “talking to much.” Trying to not talk too much is a lifelong effort at which I generall fail. Yesterday, I called my mother to remind her to get all of my old report cards out of her bedside table. As I recall, there was not a single report card during my elementary years that did not say both “Talks to much” and “Can’t sit still.” Oh well. Silence and inactivity are highly overrated in elementary school. When I work with teachers professionally, the issue of “teacher tolerance” is a big focus of mine. I will say things like, “Yes. I realize he is wiggling, but is he on task? Many children can get their work done while they are not sitting still. Is it really that important that he remain still during class?” I’m good at what I do because I’ve been that kid! I was there wiggling all around, talking my head off, AND learning. It can be done!
There are a million topics I could ramble on about. One that came to mind for this morning was the topic of barbecue sauce. Sure, I could talk about my professional goals and all that crap, but YAWN! Who really wants to know about that? I mean, you all ask me, but you’re just doing that because you think you have to because you’re a grown-up. I think talking about barbecue sauce would be WAY FUNNER! (Yes, I’m about to get my Ph.D, yet I said “way funner.” You got a problem with that? I didn’t think so.)
There are two nearly perfect barbecue sauces in this world. One is made by Andy Lipscomb, and the other is made by my father Mickey (see how I didn’t post his last name? I’m being discrete and safety-minded). I don’t know Andy’s recipe. Maybe he’ll post it here. But now I know my Dad’s. He taught it to me last weekend when we were at Flint Hill Farm (where the Lipscombs live).
Here’s what you do… You fill up a bowl with mustard. Yellow American Mustard. Don’t get fancy here, or you will be ridiculed. You have been warned. OK, now put in brown sugar, as much as it will take, until it tastes right. Now, this may be difficult if you’ve never tasted the right stuff before, but I will trust you to use your best judgment. Now you add other stuff until it tastes right. (Uh-oh. The “tastes right” issue again. Just come along with me. We’ll get there.) So now you add stuff. Stuff, according to my Dad, means onion powder, garlic powder, Worcestershire sauce, and some hot sauce. I might be forgetting something. I hope I’m not. I wanted to add salt, but I was warned that was not good form. I defer to him when it comes to Mustard Sauce. If there are sugar lumps in the sauce, stick the bowl in the microwave and heat it a little. These will melt away. Now, use copious amounts of this sauce on PORK barbecue, preferably whole hog cook over an outdoor pit. Yes, a tall order, but I thought I’d tell you the right way, then let you stray as necessary.
Technical Learning Curve
Well, as I said in the e-mail I sent many of you, I tend to jump right into using new software and online platforms. My friend Liz informs me that I really don’t want to let just anyone comment on my blog, since that often attracts spammers. As lovely as spiced ham is, I should probably save myself the hassle. So, if you’d like to comment on my blog, you will need to sign up for a username on www.blogger.com first. Eventually, I will get this right!
Flint Hill, By the Fire
Flint Hill by the Fire Pit (Back Row: Andy Lipscomb, Adam Lipscomb, My Dad Mickey; Front Row: Me, Frannie Lipscomb, Drew Lipscomb)
