S.R.O for S.L.O Barbecue : Activities: It’s Thursday night in San Luis Obispo. Throw more ribs on the barbie.

Some people go to Kansas City when they feel the need for great steaks. Others find their yearnings can be satisfied only by searching the back roads of rural Texas or the Carolinas in search of the perfect rib, the ideal hot link.

Me? When I feel the powerful urge that a barbecue fanatic gets as regularly as day becomes night I head for San Luis Obispo.

But only on a Thursday night.

That’s because the eating establishments that make my heart sing spring to existence only at the Thursday Night Activities and Farmers Market staged by the S.L.O. Business Improvement Assn.

(Actually, they exist indoors as normal restaurants during the rest of the week, but if the “Big Barbecuer in the Sky” had intended ribs to be eaten indoors and not under the glorious, starry upper atmosphere, he wouldn’t have allowed smoke.)

This 8-year-old weekly event is held on a small patch of S.L.O.’s very small downtown. Four blocks of Higuera Street are closed off and vendors of everything from dried flowers to fresh farm produce line the streets. On a warm night, thousands of locals and tourists will turn out to walk, gawk, listen to music, watch jugglers and magicians, and, most of all, eat. No alcohol is allowed on the street, so the saloons are jammed three-deep at the bar.

It’s an egalitarian party. There are no tables or chairs where people can sit and eat; the well-to-do eat curbside alongside farm workers, cowboys and students. “People from all over the world come here,” says Monte Lukov of the Business Improvment Assn. “Many stop in on their way up and down the state; ‘Ford’s Travel Guide’ from England lists us, to name just one guidebook.”

The fire department allows only nine barbecue vendors at a time because of the smoke. The food is grilled in portable pits--handmade, with car wheels so they can be trucked into the city center. The chef/owners start their stock of mesquite and oak burning long before the first customers arrive, and the meat--great slabs of pork and beef ribs, soaking in secret home-made marinades--is packed into huge ice chests.

Those heretics who don’t care for ribs can have barbecued chicken or tri-tip sandwiches (similar to roast beef) or linguica (sweet Portuguese sausage). One of the best alternatives is the barbecue shredded pork sandwich from Nothing But the Best. And for dessert, there’s ice cream, cookies and popcorn.

But it’s the ribs that most folks come out for--and why not? Who can resist the primal sight of a rack of ribs on the barbie, the primal smell of clothes reeking of smoke, the primal feel of fingers greasy with sauce and drippings?

“Ribs are relatively easy to prepare,” says Norm Eggen, of S.L.O.’s Old Country Deli. “All you have to do is throw ‘em on; a beef-back rib (his specialty) is a relatively inexpensive cut of meat that lends itself very handily to barbecue.”

Eggen, who has won the People’s Choice award every year at the annual rib cook off and has taken the Judge’s Choice award three times, uses a dried-spice blend that he sprinkles over the ribs as they cook on his 5x9-foot trailer pit filled with native oak wood. His method, says the former food science professor at Cal Poly S.L.O. who now sells about a ton of ribs a week at his deli, “renders the fat out of the meat and I don’t have to worry about sticky sauce.”

Others emphasize the sauce. Mike Stanton, an assistant general manager at F. McLintock’s in Pismo Beach, says McLintock’s--which features beef ribs, among other barbecue specialties--used to give its sauce away in small containers until the health department put a stop to that. The demand was so strong that the sauce now merits a commercial operation of its own, which takes up an entire warehouse. Stanton says that it’s not uncommon for the McLintock’s stand, which is in front of the restaurant, to sell 700 to 800 pounds of ribs a night in summer--at the same time it’s standing-room-only to eat inside.

Not all of us have room for a barbecue pit on the lanai--or the desire to use one even if we had it. But the craving for singed meat is imbued in our genes; the barbecued beast lurks within. And if you’re looking for a delightful way to soothe the beast, a quick drive to San Luis Obispo on a Thursday night may be just the ticket.

San Luis Obispo is about 200 miles north of Los Angeles, about 3 1/2 hours driving. I usually break the trip up by stopping for lunch in Santa Barbara. Another fine place to stop is Santa Maria, which has frequent events that feature Santa Maria style barbecue.

The Thursday Night Activities and Farmers Market is held every week except Thanksgiving, weather permitting. Cheap eats: ribs are about $4 for a half-slab, sandwiches $3, chicken $3-$4. The eighth annual rib cook-off (OK, so they missed one year), a highlight, is set for March 7.