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Not long after I began writing this column, I
realized that the job came with some perks. I was invited to a food
writers’ dinner showcasing Anheuser-Busch’s line of artisanal
beers at Blackbird, one of Chicago’s best restaurants (both the food
and the beers were sublime). Promotional cookbooks began showing up in my
mailbox. Most of them weren’t very good, but, hey, they were free.
Then came the best perk of all: I was asked to be a judge at the Old
Capitol Blues and BBQs festival. “This is sweet,” I thought happily. I drove to the judges’
training session, amused at the idea that such a meeting was even
necessary. After all, how hard could it be? We’d eat a bunch of ribs
and decide which ones we liked best. Just goes to show how much I knew. I walked into a room full of large, hearty men. Aside
from Megan Derrig-Green, who was there in her capacity as the event
co-coordinator for Downtown Springfield Inc. and not as a barbecue judge in
training, I was the only woman. The guys were all good-natured and jovial,
but it quickly became apparent that they were deadly serious about
barbecue. Most were veterans of multiple barbecue competitions, as judges,
contestants, or both. I was handed a packet that contained a sample judging
sheet and the rules and criteria, and I started reading:
CRITERIA FOR RIB TURN IN SAMPLES Entries are scored in areas of APPEARANCE,
TENDERNESS/TEXTURE and TASTE. The scoring system is from 9 (Excellent), 5
(Average), to 2 (Bad). All numbers between two and nine may be used to
score an entry. A score of one (1) is a disqualification and requires
approval by a Contest Rep. Each contestant MUST submit at least five (5)
separated and identifiable portions of meat in a container. If meat is not
presented in such a manner and the judge not having meat to taste, will
judge the entry as one (1). This in no way will penalize the other
contestants who have properly submitted their entry. Garnish is limited to chopped, sliced, shredded or
whole leaves of green lettuce (no kale, endive or red lettuce) and/or curly
parsley, flat leaf parsley or cilantro. Marking of any kind of the meat or
container will not be tolerated. This will include but is not limited to
painting, sculpting, or decorating. No aluminum foil or stuffing is allowed
in the container. No toothpicks, skewers, foreign material or stuffing is
permitted. Any entry not complying with this rule will be given a one (1)
in APPEARANCE, a one (1) in TASTE, and a one (1) in TENDERNESS/TEXTURE. To simplify the judging process, no side sauce
containers will be permitted in the meat judging containers. Meats may be
presented with or without sauce as the contestant wishes. Any entry not
complying with this rule will be given a one (1) on APPEARANCE.
Hmm — maybe this wasn’t going to be so
easy after all. The big day arrived. I ate a very light breakfast
before heading downtown. Saving my appetite for my judicial duties had made
me hungry, and, as my husband and I strolled around, the wafting odors of
wood smoke and grilling meat had my tummy rumbling. I knew a couple of the
competitors and studiously avoided looking at their ribs so that I
wouldn’t be tipped off. As the judging hour of 4 p.m. drew closer, my
fellow judges and I nonchalantly approached the site of our rendezvous,
slipping furtively through the door to the basement room where we would
decide who would leave triumphant and who would leave with their tails
between their legs. Once everyone had assembled, we were divided into
three teams, each of which would taste one-third of the entries and pick a
winner from our allotment. I was disappointed to learn that I
wouldn’t get to taste them all but also relieved because I’d
worried about my capacity — even as hungry as I was — to deal
with 20-plus ribs.
Runners began coming in with Styrofoam containers,
identical except for the numbers marked on the top. A few minutes into the
tasting, I began to appreciate the numeric judging criteria. I’ve
always felt a bit resentful or rebellious when asked to rate things on a
numeric scale, whether it’s a college class, a customer-satisfaction
survey, or a visit to the doctor: “On a scale of 1 to 10, how would
you rate your pain?” Compared to what? Childbirth? The flu? For a
barbecue competition, however, it does work, not least because, even though
each team only tasted eight entries, it was a way to keep them straight. It
really wasn’t as easy as I’d first imagined, not just keeping
them straight but also deciding between the best ones. After each team had
picked its winner, one person from each team rated the finalists. (A word
to the wise for competitors: Be careful with that charcoal starter! One of
the best entries — one that might have otherwise won — lost
because it had a faint but distinct flavor of lighter fluid.) Watching as the winner was announced, I realized that
the power and prestige of being a barbecue judge had a downside. I was
uncomfortably full, certainly too full to eat anything else. I vowed to
fill up on vegetables — preferably raw — the next day to
balance things out. I also had a sense of guilt as I looked around at the
contestants who hadn’t won (my friends included). They’d worked
hard, and most of their ribs were very good. Even so, the downside wasn’t nearly enough to
prevent me from agreeing to be a judge again for this year’s Old
Capitol Blues and BBQs competition. It really is a perk! A nonbarbecue note: The music headliner for this
year’s festival, Sonny Landreth, has been a favorite of my
husband’s and mine for years. We’ve gone to hear him in his own
stomping ground, southwestern Louisiana, and have many of his recordings.
On a trip to New York last week, we spotted him on a poster. He’ll be
performing there two days before coming to Springfield — and the
tickets cost $35!
This year’s Old Capitol Blues and BBQs is
noon-midnight Saturday, Aug. 25, at Fifth and Washington. For more
information, go to www.downtownspringfield.org.
Send questions and
comments to Julianne Glatz at realcuisine@insightbb.com.
This article appears in Aug 23-29, 2007.
