Mmm, meat

Eating pork ribs can evoke an ancient, carnal response; turning an ordinary dinner into a gluttonous session of satiation. From the way the meat is ripped from the bone to the dripping sauce and shreds of meat stuck between one's teeth, it's like a medieval feast --albeit with place settings, napkins and indoor plumbing. I had a half-rack of ribs for dinner tonight, and it was good. Ordering a side salad and and iced tea may not have been the most manly way to accompany the meal, but I went through three napkins during my feast and I had to wash my hands when I got home so I wouldn't wake up the next day smelling of barbecue sauce. The irony of eating meat off animal bones with my hands was that after futilely wiping off my fingers with a napkin, I had to tear open the tiny "moist towelette" pouch to finish the job, leaving my tasting tools lemony-fresh. I didn't care though, my belly was full and I felt like Fred Flintstone after polishing off some car-tipping Brontosaurus ribs. It was a testosterone party, with a hint of lemon scent. (photo courtesy of izik's Photostream at http://www.flickr.com/photos/izik/2858328816/)