Love and spare ribs
By Jeremy Goodwin

Last year, when I wrote about my brother’s love story, I got a lot of feedback from readers. Much of the sentiment could best be expressed by a huge “aaahhh.” Some people asked for a follow-up and here it is.

After the September wedding in Houston, my brother returned to Scotland, leaving his new bride to sell her house and apply for a visa for permanent residence in the UK.

If you thought getting an FM3 was tricky, try being a 57-year-old white woman, married to a British citizen and you will learn how antiquated and difficult a bureaucracy can be—idiotic and irrelevant demands for information were the norm. Having to provide a signed authorization from my brother’s landlord that his wife was permitted to move into his cottage was the least of the problems. Being asked to provide high school and college diplomas was just ridiculous for a couple of people almost 60, but only mildly irritating. Originals of bank statements proving my brother’s solvency begged the question, “If you are broke, is your marriage automatically invalid?” When later they asked for the name of my niece’s boyfriend, I began to wonder what the parameters for acceptance might involve.

Could the visa be denied on the grounds that a stepdaughter’s boyfriend had a criminal record? Was it possible that your landlord could refuse permission for a man’s wife to live in the same house? If you lacked a GED or college education, would your visa application be denied on the grounds that you were too stupid to fall in love?

The internet is a wonderful thing, and much of the application for the visa was handled in the virtual world. However, despite Connie having obtained a statement that categorically affirmed that she had provided all the necessary documentation, she was then asked to produce her expired passports. Said passports were already in transit to the UK on board a container ship.

Being an old hand in international shipping, I had volunteered my expertise, hoping to both reduce the cost and expedite the process of moving Connie’s belongings to the UK. She had attempted to start the process on her own, and had been confronted with quotes that ranged from US$3,000 to US$6,000 for what amounted to two palette loads of her severely winnowed possessions. I managed to cut that cost to just over US$1,000, a third of which was an exorbitant crating charge.

She had mailed valuable artwork in advance, and my brother was charged VAT (value added tax) of 17.5 percent on the declared value, despite the fact that they were personal possessions.


It took from the wedding in mid-September to mid-January to get the permanent visa, but at last all the hoops were jumped through and Connie handed in her notice at the University of Houston and got on the plane to Scotland.

I find it enervating to be witness to two people in their late fifties bubbling over with enthusiasm. Although I am ten years younger, I refer to them as “the kids”, as both of them are experiencing a revitalization of their spirits that is so powerful that they have recaptured the very essence of youth. It does not matter how long the feeling lasts, a decade, a year, or only a brief moment, their happiness is a bright beacon, sometimes so intense it hurts to watch.

So often in our lives we decline or are denied the opportunity to satisfy our souls or to follow our heart’s desire. So I say carpe diem; seize the day, for tomorrow may be your last.

I am unable to manufacture a suitable segue to an appropriate dish, and I would be the last person to claim to have the recipe for happiness, so here is a method for making something old and tough taste young again.

It originates from a strange combination of two circumstances— panic buying of cans of pineapple prior to a hurricane and a friend giving me cuts of lamb that he could never cook to his satisfaction. He routinely buys competition grand champions and has them butchered by well-meaning but inept deer processors and they always cut the ribs off right at the backbone, leaving no rack of ribs, just the bones with some fat lying over them. What he ends up with is a useless package of meat that cost about US$150/lb, so he gives them to me.

For lamb and goat, one should try to find or make a rub with little or no sugar and salt as the meat is quite delicate in flavor. I make my own secret spice mixes, but a simple base is described below. Buen provecho!




Recipe

Lamb or Cabrito Spare Ribs for 3–4 people

2–16” racks of short ribs

16-ounce can pineapple chunks in juice

2 ounces dry rub (mixture of cumin, pepper, cayenne, coriander, paprika, thyme etc.)


In first making this recipe I tried trimming the fat from one rack and leaving it on the other. I found people preferred the one with the fat left on when it was lamb and off when it was goat. Personally I would eat them both ways with no complaint.

If you have time to marinate the ribs, 3–4 hours in the fridge helps, but it can be done quickly as described and still produce a good effect.

Rub the ribs with the spice mix and place on aluminum foil (doubled up if the thin stuff). Add the pineapple chunks and about 2 ounces of the can juice and make a pouch as airtight as possible.

Place on the grill or in the oven with the temperature between 220°F and 250°F for about one hour.

Remove from the aluminum foil and place over the flame or under the broiler to crisp the outside. Watch for flare-ups as mine got a little singed.

The finished plate is served with roast sweet corn and red cabbage coleslaw.


Jeremy Goodwin is an author, freelance food writer and owner of The Best Kept Secret. He may be contacted at Jeremy@dcnet2000.com.