Barbecue, Any Way You Spell It . . .

Although many readers are in winter coats right now, Ms. Picky is traveling in a warmer part of the country, one known for its equestrian events: hunters/jumpers, polo, and dressage. There are a lot of horse shows. One of the less-mentioned pleasures of attending a horse show is that, since it attracts competitors and visitors from all over the South and West, there’s a better than even chance that there will be a tent where they are serving . . . barbecue. The scent of barbecue evokes a Proustian memory—a nostalgia for some time or place where one once lived or perhaps even a place one wishes one had lived. . . . 

Think of a late summer afternoon. You are lying in a hammock, swaying gently under the shade of a live oak* tree, its tendrils of Spanish moss blowing gently in the breeze.  Your nostrils catch of whiff of something, and you open your eyes. You see a wisp of smoke curling up from the grill. It can only be—it is—barbecue! Ladies and gentlemen, gather ’round and get ready for some good eatin’. . . .

It was the Caribs of the West Indies who gave us the word “barbecue” along with the concept of barbecue as a center of communal activity. The root of our English word is the Spanish word barbacoa, which is a variation of an Arawak-Carib word brabacot. A brabacot was the grill of green sticks on which the Carib Indians placed their meat. The meat was cooked above a slow fire and covered with leaves, a method that captured the smoke and imparted a smokey flavor.

In the North, the word “barbecue” is only a verb. One barbecues, or cooks, meat on an outdoor grill. In the South and West, however, barbecue is the name of a dish that consists of meat that is seasoned with spices and sauce and cooked on a grill. Each regional barbecue chef has his own specially guarded recipe and method of preparing his region’s dish. 

. . . So, as Ms. Picky was walking into the show grounds this week, she got a whiff of some of the different barbecue aromas, and she began smacking her lips in anticipation.

“Which is the correct spelling anyway,” Ms. Picky’s companion asked as they watched a chef in cowboy boots and an apron slather some ribs with sauce, “B-a-r-b-e-c-u-e, b-a-r-b-e-q-u-e, Bar-B-Q, or B-B-Q?” 

As they entered the barbecue tent, Ms. Picky was trying to concentrate on language and spelling and grammar, but the aromatic smoke emanating from the grill was making it difficult. . . .

The oldest style of barbecue is the Memphis/Carolina barbecue, which is made with pork. Kansas City/Texas barbecue, on the other hand, can be pork, beef, veal, chicken or turkey. In Owensboro, Kentucky, they might also use lamb and mutton. Although pork is really considered the king of barbecue meats, it is fortunate for those who don’t eat pork that other varieties of meat can still produce a pretty mean plate of barbecue, and there are even regional kosher barbecues and barbecue competitions that include, among other meats—what else?—beef brisket.

So what else makes barbecue barbecue? Sometimes the meat is ribs, or sometimes it is some fleshier part of the animal that is “pulled,” or shredded, and served on a bun. “The secret,” to quote a line from Fried Green Tomatoes, “is in the sauce.”

Some sauces are a thin liquid with vinegar and spices, while others are thicker and tomato-based, and might include mustard, brown sugar or molasses, and pepper. In northern Alabama, there is even “white” barbecue sauce, which includes mayonnaise, black pepper, and lemon juice. Sometimes the sauce serves as marinade before the meat meets the fire; sometimes it’s brushed on during cooking or afterward.

The wood used for grilling the meat can also influence the flavor of barbecue, as can the type of cooking—whether the mean is cooked in a pit, or on a spit, or even smoked before or during cooking. In addition, there is no such thing as rare barbecue; the sine qua non of barbecue is slooow cooking.

Barbecue regional preferences are more disparate than political regional preferences, but you’d have a better chance of getting Joe Biden to vote for Michele Bachmann than you would of converting a lover of Texas barbecue to preferring Memphis barbecue. It depends what kind of barbecue you’re raised on. Fortunately, Ms. Picky is (mostly) a New Yorker, and she wasn’t raised on any of them; she is free to enjoy them all without prejudice. And barbecue is also a social thing, a feast that stimulates conversations among perfect strangers, about not only the current barbecue, but also about past and fondly remembered barbecues.

. . . Now where were we? Oh, yes, trying to figure out how to spell barbecue. While we’re at it, let’s work in a few other barbecue-related points of language to validate Ms. Picky’s dissertation on the subject.

Terminology and Spelling

Barbecue. The word is spelled variously as barbecue, barbeque, Bar-B-Que, and BBQ. In formal writing, “barbecue” is preferred, although some Canadians have been known to use “barbeque.” “Bar-B-Que” and “BBQ” should be reserved for restaurants, menus, and hand-lettered signs.

Mop. A mop is a light, usually vinegar-y, sauce brushed on the meat during cooking to keep it from drying out.

Burnt Ends. The charred parts of a beef-brisket barbecue.

Bark. The savory outer layer of well-barbecued meat.

Pig-pickin’. A gathering, usually in North Carolina, at which a whole barbecued pig is cooked and served intact.

Eating “High on the Hog.” Originally, eating the best pieces of meat, which are located nearest the pig’s head, like the shoulder. The expression has now of course come to be used metaphorically, meaning to live well.

Finger meat. The meat found between baby back ribs.


Wherever it comes from, you can judge the quality of any barbecue by watching the people eating it. If they’re licking their fingers as much as they’re gnawing on a bone or talking, you’ll want to pull up a chair for yourself and grab a piece. 
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*A live oak tree is a spreading evergreen oak native to the American Southeast. It is often host to hanging Spanish moss.

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Bulletin Board

O.C., in Quebec, asks, “Has the word ‘yes’ gone out of fashion?” He says he has noticed lately that, when people are asked a question, if they are inclined to answer in the affirmative, they no longer answer by saying “yes,” but answer instead by affirming the question. He cites the following examples:

Examples:

Q. Do you like British television?

A. I do.

Q. Would you like to go to dinner with me on Friday?

A. I would.

Q. Has your cousin really decided to run for office?

A. She has.

Is there any particular reason, O.C. asks, that that structure should be used instead of a simple “yes”?

Ms. Picky responds:

In a word, no. Ms. Picky has been aware of this particular linguistic fashion for the past two years. Since there is nothing ungrammatical about it, however, there is no need to rail against it. Language, like everything else, is subject to trends and styles. If they break  no rules of grammar, such trends provide a harmless linguistic pastime and source of amusement to those who are aware of them.

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