Corinne Trang

Starstruck...here with "The Legend" Mike Mills, author of Peace, Love & Barbecue (2005)

I’ve infiltrated the world of competitive barbecue. I’m in with the big boys…

Barbecue is like a sport. I never thought about this until Saturday, October 24th, 2009, pulled up at a table preparing to judge my very first competition and most prestigious of them all, the 2009 Jack Daniel’s World Championship Invitational Barbecue, simply and most often referred to as “The Jack.” I am as excited to be here as a kid in a candy or toy store.

I’ve infiltrated the world of competitive barbecue. I’m in with the big boys—Paul Kirk, Mike Mills, Adam Perry Lang (this year’s honorary pitmaster), and Ray Lampe to name a few. Collectively responsible for putting barbecue on the culinary map, they are celebrity pitmasters and renowned cookbook authors who have competed on the circuit from the Eastern to Western, and Northern to Southern United States. I’ve prepared for this moment. I’ve trained my palate over many years, seeking out the best ribs, brisket, pork, chicken, and BBQ sauce

judges autographing aprons...great tradition! (photo by Karen Walker)

this country has to offer. I’ve stood in front of my own cooker for hours, maintaining a low-and-slow temperature to render all sorts of seasoned meats tender to the bone. I’ve learned techniques from one of the greats, Chris Lilly of the legendary Big Bob Gibson Bar-B-Q in Decatur, AL. I’ve taken a 4-hour judging course with master judge Ron Harwell, Ph. B. (no I’m not making this up, it’s a doctorate in barbecue!) and am now a Certified Barbecue Judge, according to the Kansas City Barbecue Society and own a monogrammed maroon KCBS T-shirt and “CBJ” pin to prove it. I’ve recently started to read The Bull Sheet and the National Barbecue News at the breakfast table, in lieu of The New York Times. I’ve come a long way, and now, here in Lynchburg TN (pop. 400+/-, but during event 25,000+), I am ready to taste multiple entries of sauce, choice meat, chicken, ribs, pork, and brisket, with dessert thrown in the mix. It’s a tough job, but I’m ready to handle it like the trained pro that I am.

Ray Lampe, aka Dr. BBQ...

This 2-day event begins with a party “up on the hill” at the Jack Daniel Distillery on Friday night. And though we’re in a dry county, all is forgotten as pitmasters, judges, and event organizers get in line for the 80-proof nectar, ordering it straight up, on the rocks, or with coke or lemonade, the latter referred to as the Lynchburg Lemonade. Though no barbecue is served on the eve of the big competition, the dinner menu is still very typically southern, as in “meat and three,” including fried chicken with mashed potatoes, cornbread, and sugar snap peas. The place is packed with cheerful people eating and drinking, standing or seated at long communal tables. The four-piece band is excellent, playing classic rock tunes, and occasionally shifting gears to more contemporary stuff to please a crowd varying in age. I grab my friend, Traci Rodemeyer (aka @PorkPrincess) who seems to show up with her “Pork, The Other White Meat” team at every BBQ event on the planet, and say “let’s dance!” And we do to Sweet Home Alabama hoping to get some to join in, but no one does. Now, if the party were in New York City, boys and girls would be cutting the rug. I quickly realize that it’s the eve of the competition, a moment they’ve all been waiting for. They drink and eat sensibly, and are simply too preoccupied to really let loose. At least that’s what I tell myself as we both quickly leave the “dance floor” and return to our table where Ray Lampe, Jack-and-Coke in hand, is holding fort and catching up with fellow BBQ pitmasters.

They've come a long way from Poland to compete and did win a prize

It’s dark and cold, but the air is definitely sweet.

The party over by 9 PM, competitors get on buses heading back to the grounds. I decide to follow them for a closer behind-the-scenes look. It’s dark and cold, but the air is definitely sweet. Aisles formed and dotted by uneven lighting, I start to walk up, down, and around each tent complete with cooker, workstation, and RV. A Team from the Mississippi Delta sings the blues while strumming guitars in need of tuning. Another blasts Bon Jovi on the radio, while another puts finishing touches on jerry-rigged oil barrels turned cookers. And though the teams are U.S.-based for the most part, it is an international event with competitors from Luxembourg, Germany, Poland, and England as well. Like them, I can’t believe I made it here. It is a big deal, and more exciting to me than judging, is seeing these guys—and occasionally gals—light up their cookers, mop their ribs, rub their briskets, and inject their pork, for the chance to win the big prize. They smile as I make the rounds, but I feel the tension in their faces. It’s almost as if they can’t wait until it’s over even though it is just the beginning. Technically I can’t talk to them, and don’t other than congratulate them for having made it to The Jack and wishing them luck as they prep and cook. The truth is that while I’m looking forward to judging, what I really want to do is get my hands dirty and cook with them.

Adam Perry Lang, 2009 Honorary Pitmaster and owner of NYC's Daisy May's (FYI: excellent short ribs!)

The oath!

It’s morning and the competition is about to start, but not without first being sworn in with the following oath:

I do solemnly swear
To objectively and subjectively evaluate
Each Barbeque meat
That is presented
To my eyes, my nose, my hands and my palate
I accept my duty
To be an Official KCBS Certified Judge
So that truth, Justice, Excellence in Barbeque
And the American Way of Life
May be strengthened and preserved
Forever

…on the sweet and sticky side…

Now I’ve judge food competitions before, but must admit that this one feels different. The fact that I’m a classically trained chef and food professional, having written 6 cookbooks has no bearing here. I’ve sat through a mandatory 4-hour “how to judge BBQ” class to prepare for this and taken an oath. As I sit, ready to judge the first category, the table captains (a wife and husband team) recite numbers as I note them down on my scorecard. Six to seven entries total each for sauce, then meat upon meat entries presented on parsley or green oak leaf lettuce (not red, an automatic disqualification) and set in Styrofoam boxes. Some are tender, some chewy, some sticky, with varying flavors many of which tend to be on the sweet, sticky side, we the six judges at my table concur (after the judging is over that is, for we can’t talk during).

Good ‘ol Jack would have been proud

Some will go home with a statue of Jack Daniel, some with a bottle of No. 7, others with prize money ranging from $100 to $5000 (the top!), and one team will go home with the title of Grand Champion and braggin’ rights (I-QUE from Massachusetts, the big winners this year!), and the right to compete next year.

Judging BBQ competitions is fun, and I’m already penciling in two more I’d like to judge next year, Memphis in May and The American Royal in Kansas City. And the more I get to know pitmasters from around the country, the more I realize that competitions are really an excuse for them to come together and have a good time. In this case, everyone is winner. Amen!