We shared a room until the day she moved away from home. Meticulous by nature, my sister used to draw an imaginary line across our bedroom, a line that I was not allowed to cross. Eight years older than I, Anita was more than just my big sister. She was my role model. Her shoes always matched her purses, her hair was what the 60s demanded of curly-haired girls, ironed, straightened and made to conform to the necessary flip that was all the rage. She took me to museums, bought me dolls and books, introduced me to new foods and exposed me to the exotic East Village, home of the Beatniks. This past weekend my sister and I once again shared a bedroom, as I kept her company while she’s recovering from a broken leg. We watched movies, reminisced, wrote down our family history, drank wine, and laughed. The best part was getting to be the “Big Sister” to my big sister, a role that I must admit I relish. The one thing I couldn’t do for her was cook, and so now that I am back home, I thought about what I would have made for her had I been able to. My mother always fed us beef when we needed to gain strength, firmly believing that red meat had restorative properties. A plate of ribs for my sister, that would be perfect. Speedy recovery shvester!
Make glaze and brush on ribs while grilling, basting each time you turn the ribs. Grill on lowest heat for about an hour or till ribs are tender.
