When the smoked cleared at the Illinois State Barbecue championship in West Chicago Saturday, Ron Williams of St. Charles had $1,200 in prize money along with invitations to participate in upcoming national cookoffs in Kansas City and Lynchburg, Tenn.
Williams won the competition’s Grand Champion award and placed first in the brisket category. His barbecued pork loin was awarded fifth place and his ribs ranked sixth. The 31-year-old Du Page County Forest Preserve employee grabbed the gold ring in only his third formal competition. His equipment was standard Weber grills instead of the custom-made smokers (some built at costs of $20,000 to $30,000) used by the touring “pros” on the national barbecue circuit.
Lest the triumph be written off as mere beginner’s luck, however, Williams said he practices at home five nights a week, year-round. Overall second place, the Reserve Grand Champion award, went to RR Cookers of Appleton, Wis., a team headed by Lou Redel and his brother Mike. Before the awards, Redel was showing spectators the handsome, red-roofed Dixie Pro Pit smoker he had designed and built from strong, 10-gauge steel.
“It cooks by indirect heat,” he said, “which keeps wood ash away from the meat and gives it a clean taste. It’s easy to clean and cost only about $5,000.” He acknowledged he had some additional units back in Appleton and would be willing to talk turkey-or beef or pork-to anyone interested in buying one. (Redel’s telephone is 414-730-9380.)
Other winners were L.T.’s BBQ of Aurora (whole hog), Mike Lake’s Rock River Ribs of Shannon, Ill. (ribs), John and Doug Hawthorne’s Suburban Slab Slammer of Lake in the Hills, Ill. (poultry) and the Buddah’s Barbecue team of Aurora (pork loin).
Jim Burns, owner of King James’ Barbecue and host of the 3-year-old event, pronounced himself “very happy” with the turnout of 34 teams. Only 12 competed in the inaugural event in 1991.
“Also,” he said, “we’re developing more fully rounded barbecue cooks. Chicago is rib country. Lots of these people cut their teeth at Mike Royko’s Rib Fest and that’s all they cooked. But this year 21 teams entered all four categories.” (Whole hog is not a grand award event.)
The scene on a large lawn behind the restaurant’s parking lot was akin to a land-locked power boat regatta. Instead of boats, the cookers (the largest resembling mid-19th Century locomotives) were anchored near one another, with satellite tents providing much appreciated shade on a sunny, sticky day. Families and friends of the various teams circulated, exchanging compliments and tastes of one delicacy or another, beverages-anything but recipes.
John Hawthorne, who had boned and rolled the chickens that would win first place in the poultry category, explained he and his brother were firmly in the amateur category.
“The pros take it real seriously and travel over the whole country week after week,” he said. “We only travel between West Chicago and downtown. We’re serious to a point, though. I keep playing with flavor and timing and spices for my sauce.”
Nearby, John Savage, a banker, was tending to the remainder of 60 pounds of ribs he, Dan Anderson, John Hill and other members of the Barbecue Club of Aurora had cooked. “Are you confident of victory?” he was asked.
“No,” he replied, summing up the spirit of the event, “but I am confident of having a good time.”
Dr. Ron Simone, a Geneva ophthalmologist and senior member of a team called The Rib Doctors, stepped away from his grill to hold and show off his baby granddaughter. A Royko Rib Fest alumnus, he recalled working as a short-order cook to earn money for college and confessed to still being a “frustrated chef.”
Other distinctive team names included Great Bores of Fire, Armadillo Bob, Badger Breath, Ribs-R-USS (Russ Abbott, head cook) and Bonesmakers. Some teams had trophies from other events on view, the largest collection (11) belonging to B.S. Cookers of Ada, Mich.
“This is my hobby,” said John Beadle of B.S. “I don’t play golf, I don’t bowl, I spend my leisure time doing competitive cooking. In the last three weeks we’ve been in Kansas City, the Fox Valley and here. You meet people, makes friends. It’s real congenial.”
Meanwhile, inside the restaurant, 36 judges had been sequestered by head judge Ed Roith, who made them take an oath that concludes, “I accept my duty . . . so that truth, justice, excellence in barbecue and the American way of life may be strengthened and preserved forever.”
The hierarchy of barbecue competitions is even more confusing than that of professional boxing. The Illinois State Championship owes no allegiance to a governmental entity in Springfield. Instead, Roith was representing the Kansas City Barbecue Society, which sanctions this event and perhaps 60 others across the country.
“There are at least four other groups who sanction events,” he said, “but we still are deluged by requests. Some weekends there are as many as four of our competitions going on in different places.”
What sets Kansas City Barbecue Society events apart, in addition to its sponsorship of the well-known American Royal cookoff, he said, is the requirement that each competition offer at least four categories, that the judging be “blind” (entries are identified by coded numbers) and an insistence that the meat, not the sauce, is what counts.
“The appearance, taste and tenderness of the meat is what you want to consider,” Roith told the judges. “If something comes smothered in sauce, you make up your own mind about it,” he concluded, leaving no doubt that the contestant who would stoop to such a tactic probably would put makeup on a baby.
Roith said he was “well pleased” with the West Chicago event, and organizer Burns announced he was hoping to attract 50 teams to next year’s championship on July 8 and 9.
Not everyone was infatuated, however. On the lawn one spectator was overheard telling another, “Those people stayed up all night cooking and then I didn’t like it.”
