Mike Urango is a smoker from way back. Apple. Hickory. Cherry. Mesquite. He’s all about smoking meat, that is, and has been since he was a boy in Oklahoma where his large family gathered for outdoor dinners. “Every weekend, we went to a different family place for ribs, barbecue chicken and grilled corn,” said Urango. “My mom cooked all the time. I’ve liked cooking ever since I was a child.”

He will tell you about those childhood days if you happen to catch him out back at his place in Orland on a Wednesday night feeding the fire in an inverted oil tank he uses as a smoker. Every other Thursday, Urango sells racks and dinner portions of pork and beef ribs at the Orland Market, which he owns with his wife Kim and their two daughters. The full racks cost between $20 and $30, a few dollars more if you order side dishes. Dinners, which include potato salad and a roll, are $6.99.

The former Marine will also meticulously describe the methods for making ribs: the cleaning, trimming (he removes the back membrane), the dry seasoning (three minutes of massaging per rib, then a 24-hour wait in the fridge), temperature regulation (220-240 degrees), rotation (every 45 minutes), sauce “mopping” (every 15-20 minutes) and tending that goes into every batch.

He’ll tell you that he found the smoker a couple years ago in “Uncle Henry’s,” and that a friend helped haul it back from downstate to Orland and set it up. He’ll tell you about the dozen or so years he and Kim lived in Dallas working for the post office. After the girls reached school age – they are 13 and 15 now – the Urangos decided to return to Kim’s hometown to raise the children in a small and active community. He’s a selectman; she’s on the school board.

You can ask Mike Urango about all this while he tends the ribs, basting them in honey brown beer. He can spin a tale, make you laugh, boast of never using a gas grill. He is proud of his ribs history. He’ll even show you how he can judge temperature by holding his hand four inches over the fire. (If he has to remove it in four seconds, the temp is too high. If he can hold his hand over the heat for 10 seconds, it’s about 240 degrees – just right.)

But don’t ask Urango for his recipe. You’ll get general information about molasses, tomato, corn syrup, a blend of seasonings and a supply place in St. Louis. That’s as far as it goes: “My rub and my sauce: that’s my secret. Sorry.” While cooking, Urango, who is 41, wears a Marine pith helmet (he served in the Persian Gulf War) and carries cookout tools. It’s unlikely you’ll press him to tell more – even though he and Kim are about the friendliest people that side of Bucksport. Kim, who is 37 and was also a Marine, calls people “dear” and “ma’am.” She prepares the baked goods: sticky buns, cookies and muffins. With a smile that says welcome and howdy all at once, her brand of hospitality is both northern and southern.

And while her sweets have a loyal following, it’s the ribs that bring folks on those aromatic Thursday nights. Hungry work crews go for the succulent meat that falls willingly off the bone. Tourists en route through Bucksport or toward the Blue Hill peninsula stop at the Route 175 river-view locale for an inexpensive and filling dinner.

It was the colorful handmade sign festooned with balloons that drew John Gres one recent evening. He doesn’t eat meat, but his wife Viktoria, who waited in the car, does. They live in Florida most of the year, and in Castine during the summer. “If you haven’t been to Texas, you can’t even say the word barbecue,” said Viktoria, a devoted rib eater. After sampling the pork ribs, she reported: “They were good, like home cooking. Delightful.” One customer bought two racks – one of each kind – and served them at a dinner party. The sticky-fingered guests argued which was better, the pork or the beef. Everyone cleaned the meat off the bones, and ate leftovers the next day for lunch.

On alternating Thursdays (including next week), Urango typically makes up to a dozen racks each of pork and beef. Most people prefer the more traditional pork ribs, but Urango keeps beef on the menu to suit a growing number of customers on his “ribs list.” For those who want hot sauce – “Your nose and your eyeballs run,” Urango warned – he also provides that, too. When he does festivals, he adds several small smokers to the process, and a grill table for fresh corn.

Back home in Oklahoma, the smoking season lasts year round, and Urango was a sharp observer of the methods. In the Marines, he developed endurance. Both skills now serve the ribs. On grilling Wednesdays, he takes catnaps though the night. But he’s always alert. “I was in the Marines. I can virtually stand here and talk to you and sleep,” he said. If you make the ribs in haste or are inattentive, the flavor suffers, he added. Semper fi, indeed.

Urango is so dedicated, last winter, he offered the rib dinners through as much of the winter as he could manage.

“Down South, we grill in tornadoes, in whatever,” he said. “Here, it gets so cold you open the grill to check the meat and the temperature changes dramatically.”

The Urangos think of their market as a “mom and pop” operation. The ribs are popular, but so are the pizzas, the rib eye and the tenderloin – not to mention Kim’s cranberry granola and coconut toasted almond cookies. They also cater events.

“We say this is the most down home you can get,” said Kim. “Everybody is family. Some of our customers come in and talk and forget to pay.”

But they come back. Especially on Thursdays.

Alicia Anstead can be reached at 990-8266 and aanstead@bangordailynews.net.