This recipe will serve….it will serve, let’s just put it that way.
- Ribs. A big rack of them. Acquired at, you know, the supermarket. Pork or beef, you know? Definitely that.
- A Hammer
- Brown Sugar
- Elephant Garlic Cloves
- Angel’s Envy Whiskey
- Coarse sea salt.
Pour the whiskey into a large glass. Not a shot glass. Think a jelly glass. You might throw some ice in there, but it’ll really just get in the way of the whiskey molecules. Take a good long drink. Consider your life choices for a moment. Then sigh regretfully and address the meat.
Place the meat on a large tray. You should probably line the tray with foil, as that will make cleanup easier. Then again, at this point, what’s one more regrettable course of action?
Peel the garlic and tear off several cloves. Place them on a stainless steel surface, one capable of withstanding the blows of a hammer, say. Possibly an anvil.
Pour the peppercorns over the garlic.
Hit them both with a hammer. Hit them and hit them until they’re crushed, like the hopes and dreams you, yourself, might have once held within you. Hit them until the pain goes away. Have another drink. Have two.
I’m honestly not sure why other people don’t use this method, but you will now have some very exposed bits of peppery-garlicky mush. You’ll eventually have to do a bit of extra work removing the peppercorns after you cook (we’ll get to that)—but that’s easy compared to, say, hiding a body.
No reason I made that comparison, though. It was totally random.
Gather the cloven-peppercorns and put them into a bowl. A pestle would be even better, if you have one. Grind in the sea-salt. Lots of it. Add the sugar and a few drops of whiskey.
Now massage the whole mixture thoroughly into the meat. The salt’s really going to tenderize those ribs, the pepper will add a little fire, and garlic is essential to all meat dishes, of course. The sugar adds that hint of sweetness which is like the flicker of conscience, poignant, but rapidly extinguished.
I use gloves for this process, because otherwise, you get meat all over your fingers, and all the perfumes of Arabia will not cleanse your hands. Just sayin’.
Since you are using pork, and not, say, some kind of biped with a more internalized rib cage and floating ribs and such, you will not need a power saw to crack into the chest region.
Wrap the whole thing in foil and put it in the refrigerator for three days. Lay low. Hope nobody knocks on your door.
If no-one has come around inquiring about any missing bodies (and why would they?)—remove the meat from the fridge, and let it adjust to room temperature for an hour.
Heat the oven to 175 (oh, by the Dark Gods, I hope you have a big enough oven!) – and, using both hands, and possibly the hand of an accomplice, slide the meat in.
Some people would suggest that you stick a meat thermometer in once in a while, but we’re not damned cynics. Just cook it until some of the pinkness of innocence is displaced by the edible darker brown of food which humans, some humans anyway, consider edible.
Hack the ribs off the bone with an axe (because why not, at this point)—and serve to whatever degenerates have gathered around, sniffing after your sins.
Don’t forget to invite me.
The preceding essay was brought to you by Dark Lords For Azathoth, and may not necessarily reflect the views of the being who wrote, edited, posted, and marketed this document.
My name is Jeff Mach (“Dark Lord” is optional) and I build communities and create things. Every year, I put on Evil Expo, the Greatest Place in the World to be a Villain. I also write a lot of fantasy and science fiction. You can get most of my books right here. Go ahead, order “I HATE Your Prophecy“ It may make you into a bad person, but I can live with that.