Family tradition

My late husband Joe and I spent the better part of 10 years cooking on the competition barbeque circuit here in Oklahoma. Those were some of the best days of our lives. Setting up camp with twenty to thirty other teams, all hoping the judges liked our offerings the best. We won a few ribbons and trophies along the way, but more importantly we met the greatest people and always had a fantastic time. The evenings at a comp were so much fun, especially when my Joe was around, pulling on a half-empty bottle of Crown and dragging his boom box behind him, music blaring for all to hear.

Even though we stopped competing a long time ago, the people we spent those weekends with became our BBQ family. I remain close to many of them today.

Our competition days were the catalyst for Joe wanting to open a BBQ food truck. The very first competition we ever participated in was Boots & BBQ in Claremore. Put on by the local rotary club and organized by John Walke, owner of the local butcher shop Walke Brothers Meat. Thanks to the relationship we built with John during our competitive days, Walke became the meat supplier for our food truck in the early years.

Carrying on their own family tradition for close to thirty years, they are known for their award-winning sausages and cured meats. If you’re in the area, you can check them out at www.WalkeBrothers.com. We continued buying from them even after the food truck had to be sold due to Joe’s cancer. We loved stopping by on a Saturday morning every so often to catch up with John and pick out something to cook at home.

Which brings me to today’s trigger. I ordered a couple of hams for Easter from Walke Brothers and headed up to Claremore today to pick them up. I was truly looking forward to visiting with John just like we always did. He was there chatting up a couple of customers, and never saw me walk in. I’m so glad he didn’t. It was everything I could do to hold it together while I waited and paid for my purchase.

A simple trip to the meat market brought back every smell and every memory of my guy smoking meat, competing, working the food truck, and living his best life. And while I’m grateful for all of those wonderful memories, I’m ready for them to make me smile rather than cry. One of these days . . .