Published February 23, 2005

If there's one thing Americans won't abide in a White House chef, it's rude behavior. And acting snooty with First Lady Laura Bush over her tastes is just about as rude as it gets.

"We've been trying to find a way to satisfy the first lady's stylistic requirements, and it has been difficult. Basically, I was not successful in my attempt," Walter Scheib III was quoted as saying, snootily, just after he was fired.

Scheib Three said he would soon get a new job. "I'm not going to be running the local pancake house," he said, his nose in the air.

He's lucky he wasn't whomped with a thick stick for such uppity talk. Well, Mr. Jobless Fancy Pants Chef, guess what? Without a job, guess what?

Ribs and pancakes are American foods. And like most real Americans, the Bushes love barbecue.

Obviously, what's needed at the White House is someone happy to smoke a mess of ribs and brisket for hundreds of foreign potentates at those fancy state dinners.

And I've got two candidates from Chicago. Those who truly know barbecue bow down at the mere mention of their names.

Gary Wiviott is the Doctor of Ribs and the Professor of Brisket, who has graciously offered to help teach me the mysterious art of making slow cooked ribs in the back yard this summer.

And Robert Adams, the proprietor of Honey 1 BBQ at 5135 W. Division St., who makes the tastiest ribs for sale in the state. If you don't believe me, try them, but call first because he refuses to mass-produce his ribs.

Asked if he could meet the first lady's stylistic requirements, Adams declined, saying: "No, I'm going to stay right here. I'd get fired too. Heh-heh. It's a good opportunity, but I think I want to keep doing what I'm doing."

Happily, Wiviott has accepted my nomination. Though he attended the University of Wisconsin in the 1970s, he doesn't think he has a big FBI file, so he'll take the job if Laura Bush offers it to him.

If the Secret Service wants to check his methods, they can see for themselves, at wiviott.com. Then they'll probably invite themselves over to his house to eat.

"At the White House, the rib meat should come clean off the bone, but not fall off the bone," Wiviott said. "I won't serve `meat Jello' at the White House. I'll serve ribs. The president has teeth."

We envisioned a state dinner of ribs, served as proper etiquette demands, on a slice of cheap white bread.

"I usually serve wine with barbecue; shiraz, Cote d' Rhone, maybe pinot noir, and beer. Nothing really fancy," he said.

Among serious rib smokers who trade tips on Internet smoker sites, Wiviott is considered a wizard with a Weber Smoky Mountain cooker. He's cooked for hundreds of people, 452 homeless people to be exact, at a dinner last year. And he'd gladly introduce those foreign prime ministers to Cowtown Dragon Turds.

I would pay money to watch the Washington elite and French and German ministers munch on Cowtown Dragon Turds.

"Well, that's what they're called," he said. "You take a habanero pepper, take the seeds and core it out, stuff it with sausage, wrap it with bacon and put it on the smoker.

"Leave it on there about an hour or so, until it's ready. It'll light you right up."

I told him Mrs. Bush said they like barbecue and spicy food.

"Then they'll like this, but they probably already know about it, since the president's favorite barbecue place is Cooper's, in Llano, Texas. I've been there. I had my barbecue epiphany at Cooper's. And if I have a few drinks, I'll talk about it," he said.

But I need to know now, sober, over the phone.

"Before I ate at Cooper's, I thought it was all about the smoke. But at Cooper's I heard angels singing. It's all about nuance, the complementary interaction between smoke and meat. Cooper's is where God goes when she's in the mood for brisket. The president likes barbecue, and I'll give him barbecue."

At the White House, he'd make brisket, and baby back ribs and his sauce, with six different toasted and ground peppers.

"I'd go with my strengths," he said. "Brisket and ribs."

We considered the White House lawn festooned with hundreds of Weber Smoky Mountain smokers. Foreign leaders, wealthy industrialists and their attractive spouses glittering with diamonds would circle the Rose Garden, waiting hungrily for ribs.

Naturally, they'd sit at picnic tables. And eat off paper plates. But Wiviott would make sure there were plenty of paper towels and alcohol wipes to clean those happy chins.

The one question is whether he could work with the first lady.

"Actually, I do have a bit of an ego," he confessed. "I might not have the ego of a Frenchman, but I can barbecue, and anyone worth their salt at something has some ego. But she'd be the boss."

Gary Wiviott, you're hired. So when she calls, you'd better say yes.

jskass@tribune.com