I wrote this piece for the KCBS Bull Sheet -- a monthly newspaper for BBQ competition addicts like me -- because there is sometimes needless miscommunication between cooks and judges. It also applies, I think, to any of us "old hands" who get too set in our ways to grasp the fact that we aren't always "right". One of the most enjoyable aspects of Letstalkbbq.com is the emphasis we place on not being judgmental toward newcomers or folks who cook on different appliances or in different ways than we do. Hey, if it tastes good I don't care how you cooked it
Hub
On The Inside Looking Out
Could Different “Word Views” Be Why Cooks And Judges Can’t Communicate?
by
Gordon Hubbell
Sometimes we just know too much for our own good. Or, what we know isn’t what everyone else knows. Or, we think we know but maybe we don’t. Or, what we know is a bit specialized and doesn’t make sense to anyone who is normal. Being a competition barbeque cook and certified judge doesn’t exactly make one wise or even unique. But, it can make for an interesting comparison of world views every now and then. Here’s my tale . . .
Not long ago I was attending a regional church function and, during a break between the meetings wound up in a conversation about hobbies with a new acquaintance. I’ve written before about the strange ways people can and do respond when you tell them you judge barbeque or compete as a cook, but this one left me wide-eyed and gasping for air. To my revelation that my avocation was cooking and judging barbeque, he simply said, “How long do you boil your ribs?” That’s when the world stopped turning. In the parlance of Hollywood . . . “fade to black”.
Now, maybe some more cogent folks would have immediately said, “I don’t” and left it there. But, my strangely wired brain was in a sudden state of shock and overload! Who would even contemplate such a thing? Even the mention of totally wasting a rack of ribs by boiling it so utterly offended my hickory smoke-impaired sensibilities, put such a warp in my universe, and was such an affront to solidly established best practices and common sense (to me) that I almost forgot I was in a church and blurted out something blasphemous! This man was contemplating a Class A felony. So, I just stood there staring off into space with every molecule of my brain matter now in some sort of paralysis and my mouth agape. I was frozen and struck dumb. For maybe the second time in my life, I was speechless. I may have also ceased to breathe for a significant period of time. The blood drained from my head down into my heels.
“Are you okay?” he asked, watching me fight back nausea, chew on my tongue and try to recover some shred of contact with normalcy and justice. I couldn’t be honest and tell him I wasn’t. I had to lie, right there in church! Lying takes a lot of energy and creativity. I wasn’t sure I had any left. He’d just said seven words that sucked the life out of me, made me look like a blathering fool, and made me give the appearance of having a serious myocardial infarction or at least some very significant gas right there in front of the snack table.
That’s what I mean by “Inside Looking Out”. My reality and that of my new (and now somewhat alarmed) friend were vastly different states of being. I suppose a medical doctor might sympathize with my plight if a patient asked him what kind of cigarettes he recommended. Or, a teacher would probably feel this way if queried about how best to cheat on a test. My now racing brain waves were in denial. I was thinking, “He didn’t really say that did he?” To my stilted sense of reality the effect of his question was roughly the same thing as if, had I been relaxing in my recliner one evening following dinner, I had received a sincere telephone call from the President asking my advice on how to run the country. These things just don’t happen.
If you are now thinking, “I thought they always boiled ribs” you are forgiven. That “Inside” word is the gist of this epistle. My point is that some of us, and especially I, can get so wrapped up in our own little special worlds that we forget others have their own little special worlds, too. Now, there’s a point to be made from this. Not a huge one. Nothing that will cause the President to call me, mind you. Just something I finally got a small insight into via that encounter with the rib boiler. This clash of realities may be an underlying factor in why some judges and some cooks are reluctant to mingle – why there is a divide of sorts between the judging and the cooking fraternity inside KCBS that needs to be bridged – and why one well-known cook called judges “eaters”. Neither “world” is right or wrong! But, we can unintentionally create the wrong impression of ourselves and even offend others if we don’t keep the differences in mind.
After what seemed like plenty of time for the moon to assume a new phase or at least for that water to boil for those soon to be abused ribs, my tongue and my intelligence returned. My wits found their slot. And, I advised my new friend that there were much better ways to prepare that oh, so delightful reason that pigs exist. Then I gave him the summary details. I got over my urge to blaspheme and my revulsion to his unwitting and unintended insult to all that is porcine. He is now my friend, but he could have smote me for my lack of brotherly love if I hadn’t balanced my reality with his.
Moral: If you cook, do not assume judges know how you cook. If you judge, don’t converse with a cook by being judgmental. Walk a mile in the other guy’s shoes. You’ll communicate a lot better and you’ll get a really long walk to help work off all the barbeque testing and tasting that contributes to us all so many delicious and beloved calories.
