Ribs!

Three little letters: OMG. That's what I think every time I eat ribs. With the warm weather and BBQ season here, I can't stop thinking about them. The smell, the taste, the texture-- bring on the ribs!

I didn't always used to feel this way about the best food on the planet. To be honest, it's not that I ever didn't like ribs, it's just that I didn't know that I did. You see, in high school I went through this very weird vegetarian stage because all of my friends were doing it. I was trendy at the expense of my health. I was too lazy to supplement my protein properly, so logically I just ate a lot of bread and cheese and candy. It was dumb.

Now, when it comes to food, my family doesn't mess around. Our standards are the highest. My grandmother and mother are artisans in the kitchen, and if they're not cooking, someone damn good better be. Any of us would just rather not eat than eat crap. Well if we're going to be literal about it, then I'll put it this way: either of these women could make crap taste good.

Well, along came graduation and my subsequent party. Since this was a big event, mom and grandma had the day off. So, in accordance with their excellent taste, they decided to fly in Tennessee ribs from the world-class Corky's in Memphis to the delight of everyone except me, the anemic rebel without a cause. I was angry primarily that I had nothing to eat except potato salad, but even moreso that a sauce-covered hunk of pig meat could outshine me at my own party.

But now I understand: Corky's ribs aren't just good, they're damn fine. Once I was lost, and now I am found, in a great big pile of BBQ ribs.