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Behind-the-scenes look at judging for Ribfest

And the winner is ...

Porky ‘n' Beans B-B-Q Company!

At least that was the informal — and incorrect — view of three of us rib judgers sitting together at Naperville's Ribfest on July 3. After we had scarfed down 12 rib samples, we agreed “Number 6” was the best, by a close margin. And because the votes had been collected for tabulating, Ribfest organizers had no qualms about sharing what “ribber” belonged to what number in our blind taste test based on appearance, taste and tenderness.

The actual winner, compiled by the votes of all 27 judges was ... Texas Outlaws BBQ!

And now, with three rib-judging events under (and over) my belt, you'd think I'd be brimming with expertise on how to expertly judge ribs. Nope. I'm just as bewildered as I was at my first judging in the early 1990s. The real challenge, to me, is keeping straight all of the ribs, i.e. “Hmm. Was the ninth rib really one point better-tasting, more tender, than No. 2?” The good news, I guess, is the judges I shared a table with — Luc Naidoo, Mike Reilly, Kevin Kulak, Stephen Tonelli, Tim Penick, Rob Jones and Tom Gillespie — agreed with me: very hard to keep ‘em all straight. Another truth: All were pretty darned good; there wasn't a rib in the bunch that I wouldn't have gladly consumed a whole slab's worth.

So, here's an inside look at how rib-judging at the biggest festival in the Midwest — Ribfest drew about 240,000 people last year — works:

Mayor Steve Chirico delivers the Rib Judge's Oath, a tongue-in-cheekish pledge to “objectively, and subjectively, evaluate each rib, and sauce that is presented to my eyes, my nose, my palate ... so that excellence in ribs and the American way of life may be strengthened and preserved forever. So help me God.”

That's quite the departure from four years ago, when the judges were ordered not to talk or even gesture to one another about our rib-judging mission. We also pledged not to “stifle the senses of others or my own by consuming alcohol, wearing perfume/cologne or smoking the morning of the judging.” I read this back to my fellow judges and we had a pretty good guffaw. In fact, there seemed to be a consensus beer drinking and rib-eating go hand-in-hand. Instead, we cleansed our palates with saltines. (Yes, that's the sacrifice we rib-judges make. We do it for you, the rib-eating public.)

Two decidedly different strategies emerged at our table. Three of us, Naidoo, Reilly and I employed the George Pradel Method: We'd take a bite or two (OK, a couple times I devoured an entire rib), but we'd save the leftover ribs in plastic bags Reilly thoughtfully shared. Pradel, Naperville's mayor for 20 years and now mayor emeritus — and, as revealed exclusively in this column last week, Ribfest Judge Forever — was legendary for bringing plastic containers. He'd limit himself to one bite, thus maximizing rib leftoverism.

This would be a good spot to note that George did not attend the rib-judging for the first time in eons. At 78, he's been battling cancer and was under the weather the Sunday of the judging. Many of the judges at our table had a nice-guy story about George, perhaps the most popular elected official in municipal history, certainly Naperville's. We wish him the very best.

Meanwhile, Judges Jones and Gillespie vowed to gnaw every rib to the bone, and, I think, drain each drop of the sauce, which we had to judge by drinking/finger-dipping/using a cute little plastic spoon. Again, no beer palate-cleanser, just more saltines.

As I left the sponsors' area, one of the Ribfest volunteers saw my embarrassingly large bag of partially eaten ribs. Have a good time, she asked?

Yes, I said, but I need to go home and take a nap.

And I did.

But I woke up in time to polish off the leftovers for dinner.

jdavis@dailyherald.com

  Hey, no consulting the internet for help, fella. Perhaps, though, Judge Kevin Kulak is actually taking his own picture for posterity or answering a text message. Jim Davis/jdavis@dailyherald.com
  Judge Rob Jones vowed to eat his ribs 'til they were clean to the bone. Jim Davis/jdavis@dailyherald.com
  True to his word, Judge Rob Jones shows he's a proud member of the clean-rib-plate club. Jim Davis/jdavis@dailyherald.com
  Tom Gillespie was one of the eat-every-last-bit judges. Jim Davis/jdavis@dailyherald.com
  They say ribs are done just right when they pull away from the bone with a bite mark like this. I believe this was Rib No. 8. Jim Davis/jdavis@dailyherald.com
  A slab of ribs is presented by Ribfest volunteer Brandy Harrington for judging on "appearance." Jim Davis/jdavis@dailyherald.com
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