Winkler rib Picture
by Diana Cercone
Mike Winckler of Winckler’s Ribs in Morrisville never thought much of barbecue ribs as a kid. At family gatherings he’d gobble up the hot dogs, preferring them over the ribs every time. In his defense, he says, he’s from New York, where hot dogs reigned from street vendors to backyard barbecues. It wasn’t until he was asked to cater an event more than 25 years ago that he even smoked his first rib. The theme was Mardi Gras, and though barbecue ribs aren’t typically associated with New Orleans fare, Winckler thought they’d be a welcomed addition to the menu. “Besides,” he says flashing me a sweet choirboy smile, “New Orleans is well inside the barbecue belt.”
Now to a lesser chef, preparing a never-before-made dish for a catered crowd would be unthinkable—if not downright career suicide, but not to Mike. Having worked with chefs in New York City and New Jersey, and receiving their praise and trust, he was confident in his ability to pull it off.
Says Winckler, “You can learn anything. It all depends on how much you’re wanting to learn.” And Winckler wanted to learn it all. But, then, he started cooking when he was 10 years old. He’d wake up hungry in the middle of the night and sneak into the kitchen when everyone else in his family was asleep. The aroma of his biscuits, grits and fried eggs would wake his mother, who, for punishment, made him wait until breakfast to eat what he had made. He and his mother, now 79, laugh about it today. (By age16 he was buying cookbooks with the money he made working in professional kitchens while in school.)
“I’m the type of person who knows flavors,” he tells me as we sit in his charming take-out restaurant on Washington Street. “I can taste something and replicate it. Or I can look at something [a cut of meat or a piece of fish in a food shop] and know what will pair well with it. What will make it taste good and have lots of flavor.”
The proof is in his ribs—from those very first ones he made for the Mardi Gras-themed event to the ribs he sells in his take-out restaurant. And when it comes to lick-smackin,’ finger-lickin’-good barbecue pork ribs, Winckler is known on both sides of the Delaware River as the go-to chef for “the world’s best ribs.”
In “The Oxford Companion to American Food and Drink,” edited by Andrew F. Smith, barbecue is defined as “the method of slow-cooking meat over coals.” It’s generally accepted that both the word and the method are attributed to the Taino and Carib peoples of the Caribbean and South America. The name dates to the Spanish conquistadors who reported that the Hispaniola natives cooked meats—drying, roasting and smoking—on a wooden framework, called barbricot, which the Spanish pronounced baracoa, over hardwood coals.
In the U.S. barbecue, also called BBQ and barbeque, originated along the flat coastal plain of the southeastern regions during the colonial times. It wasn’t long after that the style of cooking spread to other parts of the South including the Gulf of Mexico and into Texas and Oklahoma in the west while pushing north into Virginia, Missouri, Tennessee and Kentucky. Not surprising, each region generated their own variation and with it barbecue pride. And where fierce rivalry for titles at barbecue competitions run as hot as the coals.
Today the main regional styles are Memphis, the Carolinas, Kansas City and Texas. Memphis barbecue comes two ways: “wet,” which involves brushing a sauce before and after cooking, and “dry,” which only uses a dry rub. In the Carolinas, the region dictates the style. Some are dry rubbed before smoking and mopped with a spice and vinegar mixture during. Others use a tomato-based or peppery-tomato sauce, a yellow mustard sauce mix or a spicy, vinegar-and-pepper sauce. Kansas City style serves its barbecue sauce on the side. And in Texas, four styles developed, with beef and goat replacing pork as the meat of choice.
Then there’s Winckler’s style. A two-step process that involves braising the ribs for seven hours in a large steam kettle (He uses a 55-gallon Viking) and then smoking them in a combination hotbox and warmer unit. “The best way to infuse flavor,” says Winckler, “is by moisture. When you season your broth, by osmosis, the liquid permeates the meat.”
So, what’s the secret to the liquid he uses?
Shaking his head, he laughs, saying everyone wants to know that. “What I will tell you is that I use two kinds of vinegar, brown sugar, garlic, red pepper flakes and salt and pepper.”
The smoking step begins once the ribs are braised and tender to the bone. Winckler uses applewood for the coals, he says, because he likes the flavor it imparts. While the ribs are still wet from the braising, they’re placed on a perforated rack high above the coals in the hot box and warmer. As the smoke rises to meet the ribs, it smokes them. Unlike some other styles that involve smoking for hours, Winckler’s signature style only takes about 35 minutes. “After all,” he says mischievously, “the surgeon general says smoking is bad for your health, so I just give them a hit of smoke.
“My ribs are so tender,” he says, “even the bones will yield.” Winckler barbecues 400 pounds of ribs every week. On Super Bowl Sunday, he does 300 pounds. And come Mother’ Day, his next biggest draw, he’ll do about 175.
But then this is not a typical take-out rib joint. It’s more akin to a fine restaurant in the New Orleans and Tennessee style. Winckler’s menu is evocative of dishes born in the barbecue belt like crawfish hush puppies, jambalaya and andouille sausage, and classic French cooking, where sauces and stocks are started several days ahead of time.
Items on his menu include Tennessee-style bar-b-q chicken, jumbo crab cakes, deep-fried oysters, jumbo shrimp, spicy chili with red beans and spicy rice beans flavored with barbecued pork, as well as chopped or pulled pork. For his Tennessee-style barbecue chicken, his recipe is his own, tweaking the traditional vinegar and coffee mix. “I still use both,” he says mischievously, “but I won’t tell you the coffee brand or the spices I use.”
Among customers’ favorite sides are his Sour Cream & Chives Potato Wedges and Chopped Collard Greens with Smoked Turkey. But, here again, he doesn’t fall back onto the traditional way of fixing them. Again he does it his way. For the collards, he mixes in some turnip greens and a smaller amount of mustard greens “just to give them a little kick.”
For his chopped or pulled pork, he says, he’ll place the pork in the smoker/warmer for 14 hours. And for his take on the classic New Orleans dish crawfish étoufée, Winckler will start the sauce four days ahead. Need I say more?
For years, customers and those in the hospitality business have urged him to expand or to franchise. But he won’t. His one concession is his hot sauce: Winckler’s Rib’s Chipotle Hot Sauce. Packing the right amount of heat to please all palates, the rich concoction is available in 5 fl.oz. bottles at Winckler’s Ribs and at Suzies Hot Shoppe in New Hope, Wilson Famous Blue Ribbon Meat in Fairless Hills and Marrazzo’s Thriftway in Ewing, NJ.
Currently Winckler is working on a cookbook. In his introduction he says: “If you love what you do, people say it’s not work. No, it is work. But if you love what you’re doing, it’s a good work.”
Judging by the number of loyal customers, both here in Bucks and in Jersey, and as far away as Pittsburgh, Winckler’s Ribs is all about doing a good work.
Winckler’s Ribs is located at 46 Washington Street, Morrisville; 215-736-1102; wincklersribs.com.
(bio)
Diana Cercone is an area freelance writer who specializes in food, art and travel.
