Bub’n Mutha’s

You see, we were getting ready for a big shindig. Lots of folks were coming around to visit and eat some of Mutha’s wicked good food. Up here in Down East Maine, her kitchen skills were almost legendary, even unbelievable to some. But, it was all true. Right up until just before the big event started. It makes me want to weep just thinking about it.

She was fixin’ up some real fine, what you city folks call a pallet of flavors. We were having a real food fest with smoked ribs, brisket, lobster, and some traditional fried dough for dessert. I should mention that Mutha was always a grazer. Yup, she would hardly ever sit down for a meal. More ‘n likely, she’d pick here and there all day.

As she’s cookin’, she’s tastin’, so we come to the fried dough. Just as she is about to reach for a honkin’ hunk of dough, an air bubble pops and sends hot oil shootin’ up her nose and mouth. It was quite the sight.
Anyhow, after the screamin’ died down a bit, we’ve taken her to the clinic. Whereupon the doctor looks up her snoot and down her throat. He says to her that she’ll live, but there might be effects on the side. He had no good idea how right he was.

From the day she healed till right up and until this very second, Mutha can’t smell a skunk if it was settin’ up housekeeping’ in her nose. And for taste, she couldn’t tell the difference between coffee and a codfish.
It seems as if all her days in the kitchen were done.

But I guess I didn’t know her as well as I thought. She was tinkerin’ around the spices for what seemed like days. And all at once, as if a Christmas miracle had happened, she came out of the kitchen with a drumstick in one hand and a rib in the other. She had some kind of ring around her mouth that was hard to see because she was smilin’ so big.

She comes over to me and hands me the rib, and before I can ask what’s up, she pushes that piece of meat into my mouth. Just as it hit my lips, my tongue began to tingle, and she bit a big hunk of chicken off the bone and said something I couldn’t understand. Even before the tragedy, Mutha talked with a mouth full, and I usually just nodded. But this time, I really did understand!

The special blend of spices not only makes for awesome meat, but it’s so powerful that even Mutha can taste it. However, she still can’t smell worth a lick. All of a sudden, it hit me like a runaway lobster trap. We can’t keep this discovery a secret. So, now you see why we had to start making a dry rub for BBQ right here in Wintah Habah, Maine. Bub ‘n Mutha’s Downeast Dinnah Dust is born.

Friends have been using it at cookouts, with grills, smokers, and everything from BBQ ribs to pulled pork.

And now you know.
–Bub