A menu for the occasion.

St. Louis–cut ribs, smoked low across the morning and built on two of King Louie’s most decorated blends — Huney Chipotle, the number-one spicy rub in the country, and Hot Apple Pie, second in the nation for sizzle at the American Royal. Lacquered in a spicy cinnamon apple butter glaze that caramelises to embers along the bark, they open as sweet as the pie they are named for and close with a clean, building heat. Served warm, as pie ought to be.

Smoked until the skin gives way, then tumbled while still hot in cinnamon, sugar, and a measured dose of the King’s own blend. The breakfast you always wished for, arriving — improbably, triumphantly — at the turn.

Pressed by hand the morning of, sweetened with a light touch, brightened with a little prairie mint, and poured over the good ice. The clear-eyed backbone of the day — and the only thing on the grounds quicker than the greens.

The drink the day is named for — and the one photograph after photograph cannot leave alone. It arrives in a glass rimmed in warm apple-pie spice: cinnamon, brown sugar, and the same sweet smolder that dresses our ribs, so the very first sip tastes of pie before it tastes of fire. Beneath the rim waits the rest of it — smoke and cedar, a low and knowing sweetness, and a heat that does not announce itself so much as settle in and stay, the way the last hour of light settles over the lake. One is never quite enough; the second is a decision you will defend to anyone who asks. The General Manager does not recommend the Prairie Fire. He insists upon it. Offered, with our compliments to the prudent, in a temperate pour for those still to play.