BROTHER, CAN YOU SPARE A……
RIB? (With apologies to lyricist “Yip” Harburg)
I came late to eating “spare”
ribs. As a kid, I ate mostly
steak or lamb chops with a
bone-in, but was that really considered
a rib? Probably not, but
what did I know? My family was
very practical. If there wasn’t
enough meat on a bone like a rib,
I guess it didn’t count as enough
of a meal. Oh, oh. Wait! As I
look back, I may have to correct
myself. I slightly remember eating
something that might have
resembled ribs. They were bony
and meaty and they were cooked
for an eternity. Could they have
been ribs? (Maybe something
called flanken?) I’m not sure.
They kind of resembled ribs
but they were so much thicker
and shorter. Nothing like the
“skinny ribs” I see these days.
Like people, could they have
been shorter and fatter then?
Are there such things as short
and long ribs? (Yes.) Anyway,
whatever those were, they just
melted in your mouth. They were
probably “potted” or “gedempte”
in those “olden golden” days. My
mom had this weather-beaten
grey enamel pot with a cover
that didn’t match and all good
stuff came out of there. It was
magical. Everything cooked in
it was cooked to death but was
delicious. I guess the term today
might be called “slow cooked.”
Does the new name make things
taste better? When I ate that
food as a kid, I didn’t know
what it was nor did I think to
ask where it came from or what
it started out as. All I knew was
how delicious it was. (Tongue
anyone?)
I forgot all about ribs until I
moved to Long Island and was
part of the barbecue crowd and
became reacquainted them. One
day I walked into the kosher
butcher and there they were, kinda
calling my name. I couldn’t
resist. I simply marinated them
and barbecued them. I didn’t have
a magical pot like mom, but I did
have a great grill. I’m sure there’s
tons of ways to prepare them but
they were just absolutely scrumptious.
They weren’t quite as meaty
and I think I ate a dozen before I
felt full. About three years ago I
went to a nearby Asian restaurant
and was introduced to the “other”
kind of spare rib (pork.) OMG!
I don’t mean to corrupt or disrespect
anyone who observes the
kasruth, but they were sensational.
As a rule, I never order them, and
I do feel some guilt and reluctance
when they’re ordered by my friends,
but I have little resistance for this
“other” spare rib. I try to eat as little
as possible. Hmm! Maybe three or
four. Wait! Isn’t this meat supposed
to be less fatty and healthier to eat?
Oy, sorry to my honey! I promised
you I’d be careful with my food.
Unfortunately, this isn’t exactly
what you had in mind!
What’s the story with ribs? Why
am I thinking about them now?
Well, there was a serious incident
recently that brought me to focus
on ribs in a different way other than
ruminating on their taste. By using
my traditional 18 seconds on medical
research, I was reminded that
“Ribs are not just an incredibly tasty
order on the menu at the nearest
steak house.” Apparently, there’s
a specific function for them other
than nourishment. “These long
spindles in a torso are attached to
a sternum to protect lungs, heart,
spleen and most of the liver and
help giving shape to the chest
cavity which assists in breathing.”
Who thinks about that every time
you take a bite of that stuff? Does
it come across your mind that
somewhere, somehow a sternum
and its ribs were sacrificed for this
delicious meal?
Anyway, always ready to make
a short story longer, I’m more
into ribs now because one of my
dearest friends had a “tsura” with
hers. Six “tsuras” to be exact.
Unfortunately, she tripped and
she was in an enormous amount
of pain. How much do you ask?
I’d say “enough pain to make a
Happy Meal cry!” On examination
the doctor told her family
that “the pain in her side indicated
cracked ribs, but the moaning and
screaming was because someone
was standing on her hand.” Oy
Vey! There’s lots of one-liners
about pain, are they supposed to
make you smile and feel better?
I’m not sure. Is it like kissing a
booboo? I have to be honest with
you. The kisses on my booboos
didn’t make me feel better. I didn’t
want to disappoint whoever was
doing the kissing. Maybe it just
wasn’t working on me? Anyway,
here are some one-liners that I
personally recycled for a chuckle
or two. “Laughter may be the best
medicine…but not for someone
with a broken rib,” or, “Sticks and
stones may break your bones…
but tripping can also break a rib.”
I can never feel the same pain
as my dear friend because I don’t
live in her body nor have I never
broken a rib, but I did have a similar
situation and could be a little
sympathetic. Way back, I went to
the doctor after saying bye-bye to
my gall bladder, “little G.B.” After
a long while I still had an unusual
pain. I couldn’t walk, talk and
breathe at the same time. After
all his exams, x-rays and poking
and prodding, his diagnosis was
“You’ve suffered a contusion to the
soft tissue below the fourth thoracic
vertebra, exacerbating the proximal
sternum.” Translation: You have a
bruised rib. (Seventeen words to
say what could have been said in
four. Do doctors get paid by the
word also?) From that experience
I learned it’s a horrible feeling not
being able to bend, pull, move,
sit, stand or just function. I’m not
sure if the additional news on my
breathing was good either. He said
that my breathing test results would
be normal if “I were 3’8” and a hundred
and fifty years old.” The good
part was that I was still breathing.
The bad part was that I’m 5’5” and
the way I felt, one hundred fifty
years had arrived. Lots of things
can make you miserable. Here’s
something you can add to that long
list – “rib tsuris.”
Fortunately, my friend is much
better. She was an absolute trooper
through this whole ordeal and it
wasn’t always easy. My advice about
these challenges, is based on how
some of my friends and I handle
them. It’s simply, “If you look hard
enough there should be a glimmer
of light at the end of a tunnel which
may be filled with many “tsuris.”
If you don’t see it, trust me, most
of the time it’s there. You just may
need to get a stronger prescription
for your glasses.
November 2019 ¢ NORTH SHORE TOWERS COURIER 29