By Tim O'Connell
Daily Staff Reporter
"Your sauce is the main thing. If you don't have sauce, you don't have barbecue."
DeLong should know - after 30 years of cooking up barbecue, he hasn't changed his sauce once. And don't even mention the secret recipe.
"I'm not going to tell you much about it, man," he said.
Even in the name of journalistic comparison, DeLong was hesitant to fork over a couple of samples.
"Don't you try and duplicate this now," he said, handing over two one-ounce containers.
DeLong's sauce runs on the sweeter side. Its spice builds only after eating for a while. The sauce comes nowhere close to overpowering the meat, and its smoothness and clarity seem particularly Northern, citified even.
On the other hand, Mr. Rib's sauce is almost as hot as the Starksdale, Mississippi summers in which Jesse Campbell grew up. But the sauce isn't too hot, and the typical Michigander should be able to take it. Vernors is available.
Joe's Deli & Grill's sauce was created by Joe's wife, Ban, who developed it while cooking for family members. Ban's tangy sauce has a bit more spice than DeLong's and is featured on its popular "B.B.Q. Chicken" sandwich.
For your own barbecuing, Mr. Rib has moved to bottling its sauce in the past month, and the store sells it in pint and gallon sizes stacked behind the counter. Kroger is currently looking into selling it in its supermarkets.
When asked specifically about his sauce, Campbell spoke in mythic terms.
"I had a friend in a lab who helped me test it out," he said. "We put some wings out in the sauce and let them sit for three weeks. After that, the guy told me, 'Jesse, there isn't any contamination at all.'"
If Mr. Rib's sauce can preserve meat indefinitely, what does it do to your body? If you eat at Mr. Rib, will you live forever?
"It can't hurt, man," Campbell said.