Some sauces are great right from the bottle, but most benefit from cooking on food. Juices and heat can alter the molecules and their flavors. At temperatures above 320°F, some sugars will begin to caramelize, creating a more complex flavor than plain sugar. A sweet sauce can get gummy or even burn, so apply it at the end of cooking, just long enough to heat it and cook it without burning it. Don’t oversauce. One or two coats should be all you need.
If you are cooking low and slow, add the sauce about 30 minutes before removing the meat. For the final sizzle, put the meat right over direct radiant heat and cook for about 5 minutes on each side. If you’re cooking on a smoker, you might need to crank up your grill or move the meat indoors under the broiler. Stand there and watch like a cat eyeing a bird so the sauce does not burn. It can go from red to black faster than a clean hog can go from pink to brown. Incineration is not the only hazard with this technique. If you have perfectly cooked ribs, sizzling the sauce can result in overcooking the meat.
All undercooked meat can contain microbes and spores and is therefore potentially hazardous. Pour only as much sauce as you need into a cup or bowl and dip in your brush or spoon. When you are done, throw out the extra sauce in the cup. Boiling it may not properly kill spores. Use only fresh, uncontaminated sauce for serving at the table.
To most Americans, barbecue sauce is red and sweet and smoky and lives near the ketchup at the grocery store. We who eat lunch in back of a rickety shack under a shade tree know that barbecue sauce comes in a rainbow of colors and flavors. Most of these are tied to their areas of origin and their ethnic roots.
Barbecue sauce is alchemy. Standing over the pot, adding a dash of this, a pinch of that, adjusting and tasting makes you feel like a wizard. To be a real grillmaster, you must have a signature barbecue sauce in a jelly jar so that when your guests ask, “What brand of sauce is that?” you can plunk a hand-labeled bottle on the table. When they beg you for the recipe, you can then tell them, “It’s a secret” and mumble the old saw that ends “but then I’d have to kill you.”
Here are eleven distinct, classic American barbecue sauce types. The following pages have recipes for all of them. If you feel ambitious, serve your guests a choice of several of these sauces.
Based on tomato paste or ketchup, it is typically sweet, often laced with molasses or brown sugar, thick, and by far the most popular type of barbecue sauce.
Sweet, tart, and yellow.
The Low Country may be the home of the oldest sauce in the nation. The original was probably just vinegar with a pow of hot chile peppers and black pepper, and many pitmasters use only those ingredients to this day.
Similar to East Carolina, but with some tomato added and a hint of sweetness.
In the Republic of Texas, where beef is king, sweet sauces were rare until recently. The original was a thin brown sauce, almost a gravy, which works both as a mop during the cook and as a finishing sauce. It features sweet and hot peppers, cumin, and often beef drippings.
Invented for smoked chicken at Big Bob Gibson Bar-B-Q, a north Alabama restaurant, this mayonnaise-based sauce is so popular in the state that many restaurants now have a version.
In western Kentucky, where sheep were once a big thing, pitmasters still baste their mutton with a thin blend of vinegar and Worcestershire.
A variation on teriyaki, this sweet, thin, soy-based marinade/baste/sauce can be found wherever you see smoke rising in Hawaii, other than in the volcanoes.
Creative cooks have found countless ways to take the classic Kansas City style and amp it up with everything from fruits to whiskeys to hot sauces.
These tend to be sugar-forward and shiny enough that a thin layer is all you need.
Smoked fish was the continent’s first barbecue, and since this sauce has been around longer than memory, I include it for historical honesty.