Lately I’ve been forced to give more thought to ribs than I might otherwise. That’s because I recently learned I must have one removed. The 10th one on the left side, in case you’re curious.

As a product of the American educational system of the 1960s and 1970s, when the concept of general education requirements — or breadth requirements, as they were sometimes called — all but disappeared from the curriculum, I never took a high school or college class that discussed anything even remotely akin to vertebrate anatomy. I was anti-science in my youth and, after being compelled to dissect a frog in ninth grade, never went near a class taught by someone wearing a white coat.

As a result, my knowledge of ribs comes entirely from cooking them. And, let me tell you, after the poking and prodding that I’ve endured in recent weeks, I’ve developed a certain empathy for the pig, whose ribs I’ve barbecued many times.

I also know a thing or two about beef ribs, whose various cuts provide the ribeye steak, the prime rib roast, the standing rib roast, the blade steak and short ribs.

But thanks to various medical experts, my knowledge of human anatomy has made a quantum leap. (I think that’s a scientific metaphor, but I can’t be sure.) I’m told that my skeleton contains 10 connected ribs and two floaters on each side. The one I’ll be giving up is the lowest connected rib.

I’m told I won’t miss it — as if it were the human “spare” rib.

My students, who are my source of knowledge of popular culture, say that supermodels and the particularly vain have their 10th ribs removed all the time. It’s a waistline thing. My experts on current trivia tell me Janet Jackson is among the notables who have offered up their 10th ribs to cosmetic surgery.

Being in such esteemed company sure makes me feel better. Unfortunately, I’ll only be half chic, since I’m only having one taken out. Something tells me that the folks at Blue Cross don’t care a thing about bodily symmetry and wouldn’t pay for the rest of the operation, even if I wanted it, so my bikini days — already a fading memory — are really over.

In the meantime, as I await my appointment with the surgeon, I can’t stop thinking about ribs — the food kind. I’ve been eating them, too. As if to stare down the medical fates to see who would blink first, my husband and I left the hospital after my CT scan, stopped at a barbecue joint and split a slab.

We won.

In that spirit, I’m sharing my mother’s recipe for honey-glazed spareribs, a perfect dish for a cold winter day when the Weber is covered with snow.

Honey-glazed spareribs

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2 3-pound racks of spare ribs

salt and pepper

Glaze

1 cup honey

3 tablespoons finely chopped onion

3 tablespoons lemon juice

1 tablespoon curry powder

1 1/2 teaspoon salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Sprinkle ribs with salt and pepper, arrange on a rack in a roasting pan and bake for 45 minutes, or to desired tenderness.

Meanwhile, whisk together glaze ingredients.

Remove spareribs from the oven, drain the fat from the roasting pan and cut the ribs into serving pieces. Baste the ribs with the glaze and broil for 10 minutes. Serve.

— When she’s not writing about foods and gardening, Gwyn Mellinger is teaching journalism at Baker University. Her phone number is (785) 594-4554.