"That's some good sippin' whiskey right there," the man said, handing me a large jam jar filled with a clear, viscous liquid. A tattered black T-shirt barely covered his protruding stomach and his face was dragged towards the floor by a beard that would have made ZZ Top weep. Both arms were decorated from wrist to shoulder in multicoloured tattoos depicting the sort of women you would not take home to meet mum. I hesitated, then, thinking better of it, took a deep slug and shuddered as the moonshine hit the back of my throat. The man laughed so hard his belly shook as he said, "I learned to make that in prison"
Welcome to the American Royal.
It takes place on what was once the site of the Kansas City stockyards, where cattle were herded for nearly 100 years to be bought and sold to all parts of the midwest. Now, the yards play host to a month-long celebration of America's rich agricultural heritage. Events, which draw nearly 250,000 visitors every year, include rodeos, horse shows and, at the centre of it all, the world's biggest BBQ competition where 500 teams cook and consume their way through well over 500,000lbs of meat over two days of competition and hard partying.
This is not BBQ as we know it in the UK. This is real BBQ, which originated with the arrival of German immigrants in the midwest states and down as far as Texas. It involves cooking unfeasibly large joints of meat over an indirect source of heat in large smokers for long hours until they become moist and tender. Where we have salmonella in chicken form, they have succulent slabs of pork butt ready to be pulled apart and sandwiched between slices of white bread. Where we have charred sausages they have brisket, which leaks beefy juices as you carve it into thin slices. Where we use our precious two days a year of clement weather to make the man of the house wear an apron with printed comedy breasts, they make an adventure out of it, sleeping in tents or trailers, sipping more than a few cold ones and hanging out with the boys.
Although there are plenty of women skilled in the dark arts of BBQ, it remains a bastion of male bonding. My own team for this year's event, Burn Rate, consisted of 15 men who in their real lives were marketing executives, financial advisers and art directors. But for the duration of the Royal they swapped their office uniforms for shorts, polo shirts and baseball caps — the prerequisite of all America's weekend warriors. When I arrived at the show grounds, they made my acquaintance with an impressive series of testosterone-fuelled "bro" hugs before dragging me over to get on with the most important matter in hand — preparing for the party finale where we would be feeding more than 500 people.
My team had already begun to prepare an impressive 600lbs of meat. I donned surgical gloves and began to help by slapping down slabs of pork and 2ft lengths of ribs and applying healthy squirts of French's mustard to act as glue for the 'rub'. Ah, there's the rub, the spices, seasonings and herbs that make up the backbone of every great barbecue; the recipes are a closely guarded secret. Our own concoction had over 30 ingredients including, as far as I could discern, cayenne, cumin, brown sugar, oregano, garlic salt and at least two types of paprika. We massaged it vigorously into the flesh before loading the smoker, which was the size of a Honda Civic and probably cost about the same.
Once the smoker was loaded to capacity, there was precious little else to do but sit a spell, drink and shoot the breeze as temperatures of 250F worked their magic, breaking down the tough meat fibres.
I wandered around the showground, through the hall selling BBQ paraphernalia to the far side where allotted spaces were filled with the biggest trailers I have ever seen. The American Royal BBQ is split into two competitions — "the Open", where anyone with enough funds can rent a space for a private party whether they compete or not, and "the Invitational", where only those who have won regional championships can pit their BBQ pits against the best in the business.
The Invitational is filled with teams who take BBQ very seriously. They compete weekend in, weekend out, often earning thousands of dollars in prize money and endorsements. Above that, however, BBQ is about camaraderie and being part of a unique community. I was delighted to see this community spirit extended even to a British team competing under the banner of the British BBQ Society who were determined to show people back home what real 'Q is all about. They have my whole fatty-hearted support.
Back at the Burn Rate HQ the party was already well under way. Across the showgrounds music blared out of every booth as sound systems and live bands soundtracked 100,000 people tucking into ribs, chicken, pork, sausages and brisket. At a time when the world's media is filled with things that America struggles to do well, it was good to be part of something that it does better than almost anyone else on earth.
