Climbing Mount Rib

For the longest time, my friends have constantly berated me for not yet dining at a popular Sydney steakhouse, "Hurricane's". I was exposed to the same sort of statements that someone might be hit with upon sharing with their social circle that they hadn't seen Pulp Fiction yet.
"Oh my God, you haven't been to Hurricane's?!" They'd rhetorically demand, before adding, "You have to have their ribs, best ribs in the world!"

The skeptic in me questions the authenticity of this statement in for both the absence of my own empirical evidence as well as the obvious statistical objections that will usually come up with this sort of proclamation, so I decided that I could not have a valid view on this argument until I had tried them for myself. I would road test this dish at some point in the future to see if it as great as my friends insist it is.

After my somewhat unorthodox marriage proposal to Katie, a great deal of things that I should have apparently thought about had not yet been thought about. As we'd never discussed the possibility of marriage, we didn't really have much of an expectation of what the next sequence of events would be. As it turns out, a great number of people have very well-formed ideas about what we should do as steps leading up to and on this occasion, and one of the queries to come out of this was, "So, what are you doing to celebrate?"

Well, apparently having a wedding is not celebration enough, so Katie and I had a chat about what we should do on the first weekend after the decision. "Going out for dinner" was an idea that seemed to top the list rather quickly as not only is it a pretty much "socially-demanded" action, but we'd no doubt get a good feed out of it at the same time. Win/win.Striking while the iron was hot, I asked if she'd like to go to Hurricane's for dinner. Yep, sure would. So it's settled, then. This is ticking three of the boxes all at once, which is pretty freaking awesome in my book as it seems that I would:

 a) Satisfy the "celebration" component
b) Not have to worry about organising dinner that night
c) Be in a position to either validate or debunk the theory that Hurricane's serves the "best ribs in the world"

Fast forward to tonight, we enter the premises and are immediately assaulted with the sound of rowdy pub-goers in a dirty orchestra with a hundred jawbones chewing. I had naively thought that this was some sort of up-market establishment that I'd be able to enjoy my ribs in peace, however apparently that wasn't the case. Call me a sissie, but I've got sensitive ears and normally only listen to my iPod at half volume, even with the sound of vacuum cleaners and televised football matches around me. As it would turn out, the volume of the patrons would be the least of my worries and would soon fade into darkness as I focused all of my energies at warring with the battalion of ribs on my plate.

Despite turning up to our reservation early, we were shown to our table rather quickly and as we'd already decided what we were having before looking at the menu (myself obviously the Pork Ribs and Katie the Surf N' Turf), we had our drinks and our orders pretty much sorted before I had even put my jacket around the back of the chair. The only question I had really faced was whether or not I wanted "Half-Ribs" or "Full Ribs". Assuming that I'd be no longer be able to call myself a man if I ordered the half-ribs, I felt compelled to order the full-size. I was still harbouring the hope that I'd have room for dessert later, but that was a pipe-dream.

In a crowded resturant, I was extremely surprised to have our meal delivered to us in less than 15 minutes. They were efficient, I'll give them that.

The meal the waitress placed before me can hardly be described by words. These ribs were humongous, I mean... really. They looked like the main course of a demi-god. They'd apparently had to sacrifice an entire boar to be able to supply me with ribs for the evening.

I sat there in shock, wondering how on earth I was going to eat this thing. Not just the sheer epicness of the portion, but the logistics of trying to get the meat into my mouth without covering myself in Barbeque sauce. The solution was then presented to me in the form of the waitress tying a bib around my neck.

It's rib time.

So here I am, armed with a machete, a beer and a bib. Time to get my rib on. I won't bore you with the next 30 minutes of chewing and dousing myself in sauce, but suffice it to say that it was entertaining for Katie to watch and absolutely bloody delicious.

So, did they stack up to the completely overrated review? You bet your arse they did. These puppies were cooked to perfection, and I for one appreciated it. There was just so many of them, too. I expected there to be very little actual meat on the bones, however it was like each rib was a drumstick of its own. Whether or not they're the greatest ribs in the world... I may never know.

One thing I do know for sure, however; They're the best damn ribs I've had to date.