A Bib And A Rib

After her introduction to barbeque in Houston, Texas, U.S.A. a couple of weeks ago, this past weekend NJ learned to eat ribs. What follows are some photographs of her with greasy hands, a greasy face, and a couple of ribs in the aforementioned greasy hands and face. And no, there's no barbeque sauce -- she's a toddler, not a heathen.

So, just eat the soft outside, right?

When Daddy eats a rib, he looks all dog-dumb and glassy-eyed, so I guess that's what you're supposed to do. Full speed ahead!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand here we go.

Hmmmm ... a little chin-stroking contemplation is in order, I do believe.

It's good! I like it. The skin is crunchy and peppery, and yet the meat isn't tough or overdone. It's a tangy, succulent taste treat. I give it four dirty diapers out of five!

Back off, Zeus! Don't even think about it.

(Not pictured: "Cookie ... one?")