Dave the Cook

It's not over yet. 8:20 I've forgotten the barbecue sauce. If I do it now, it will delay dinner another 20 minutes just to assemble, not to mention that these things need some simmering time. Shit. Check the pantry. As Flip Wilson used to say, "in the booth in the back in the corner in the dark," I find a bottle of KC Masterpiece. Using my body as a shield, I safely transport it to the prep area and camoflage it behind tall flasks that contain rosemary and pepper oil, after squirting a half cup into a glass pie plate. I slice about 12 ounces of brisket across the grain, about an 1/8-inch thick, lay them on top of the sauce, then spread more sauce on top. Cover with foil, and stick in the oven, which is still on from the brisket. Mayo, cider vinegar and honey for the slaw. Taste, add salt, pepper and a little ground fennel left over from the rub. Set aside. I sliver some banana pepper and do a brunoise number on a red bell pepper. I toss with shredded red and green cabbage and carrots. Cover the bowl, back in the fridge, strategically set in front of the sequestered KC Masterpiece. I cut some more brisket and overlap the slices on a plate. I paint them with a little of the liquid (fat and gelatin, I think) that accumulated in the roasting pan. Cover loosely with foil and set in the oven next to the sauced brisket. Turn the oven off. The fries, now at room temperature, go into the fryer for five minutes. Slaw dressed and sent to the table, along with a basket of white bread. Brisket out of the oven. I dribble some sauce on the plain version. The pale orange and vivid green against the meat is striking. A few bushy cilantro leaves for garnish. Send both platters to the table with the rest of the sauces. Yank the fries, toss with a homemade seasoning salt (salt, white pepper, garlic, paprika) and dump into a basket lined with paper towels. Ring the dinner bell. Beer count: 5. The Shiaz is half-gone, but I am certain Mrs. Dave has been partaking. Surely. I am spent.

7:30 The brisket has been at or above 170 for two hours. Actually, it hit the wall at 184. I checked it with a fork, and it's not quite there yet; still getting some resistance. Taking Cathy's advice, I leave it in the oven. It will be done when it's done. Meanwhile, I've turned my attention to sauce. The standard barbecue sauce is OK, and that's certainly what the requestor is after--something sweet and tangy, some tomato, molasses, vinegar and a hit of heat. As I said before, I'd like something different, so I check out a few cookbooks. No one seems to have looked at this issue, and I suppose there's a good reason. The fact is that tomato and vinegar sauces work very well with the smoke and spice. It ain't broken, in other words. But surely, cultures besides ours spice and smoke meat. Finally, I get an idea from Steve Raichlen's Miami Spice. He has two sauces that are worth checking out. One is a citrus sour cream; the other is the Argentinian chimichurri. I'm thinking sour cream in terms of how it is used in some spicy Mexican dishes to cool the palate. The citrus, while a little iffy with the beef, might keep the cream from being too rich. The chimichurri sounds like a very good bet: lots of garlic, lemon and parsley--I'm reminded of Tuscan steak, where olive oil, lemon and garlic are applied to a steak right off the grill. I do the citrus sour cream almost by the book, but I substitute some tangerine juice for the orange juice. I found the juice in quarts at the farmer's market a few days ago and hadn't figured out what to do with it. This is reduced with lemon and lime juice, then whisked into sour cream and set aside to cure after a pinch of cayenne is added. The chimichurri offers a little more opportunity for customization. Traditionally, it is large amounts of curly parsley, lots of garlic, lemon juice and Spanish olive oil. The rub on the brisket has cumin, coriander and garlic along with several other things, so I think I can play off that. I substitute half the parsley for cilantro and give both a rough chop. I toast and grind some coriander and cumin seeds. Drop whole garlic cloves into a running food procesor, toss in the green stuff with lemon juice and the spices. Then drizzle OO (Italian is all I've got) into the feed tube. Raichlen suggests letting it sit for a couple of days, but, oh well. I put a pound of frozen Ore-Idas in the microwave, set it for five minutes at half power. I check the meat again. This time it is completely yielding. Out it comes. Except for its deep reddish-brown color, from across the room it looks like a hunk of tire shed by an 18-wheeler. Up close, it is encrusted and looks dry as a bone. I cut a corner off and taste. It's a little dry. I take the next slice. It is warm and tender and smoky, and though it's not explicitly juicy, it is richly moist. Oh boy. Stir up the fries and give them another five minutes. Turn on the fryer. Deer, I mean berr--beer count: 5. The Shiraz is open and flowing.

OK, you asked for it... 5:30 The brisket hit 170 degrees. I set the timer for two hours. Now I must turn my attention to the accompaniments (requested by the same person who wanted the brisket): sauce, french fries and cole slaw. For the sauce, I plan a fairly traditional tomato-based version, but maybe a little chunkier. It would be nice to have something kind of bright, since smoked meat always seems like a dark taste to me--or a baritone that needs some treble notes to stand out. I now wish I had halved some of the tomatoes sitting on the window sill and let them absorb some smoke while I had it. I will make this up as I go along. Usually when I am making a b-b-q sauce, it is for pork or chicken, not beef. I need to give this a little thought first, working off the ingredients in the rub. Fries: normally, since it's a weekend day, I would take the time to make from scratch: cut, soak, two fryings. But in the interest of convenience, I am thinking about a way to manipulate frozen fries on the 80/20 principle: can I get 80% of the pleasure of a from-scratch fry with only 20% of the work? Cole slaw: we'll go traditional here. Cabbage (green and purple), shredded carrots, slivers of red bell and banana pepper from the garden, mayo, cider vinegar and a little sugar. Wife called from her where she is working downtown. She and the girl are headed to the other side of town to drop off girl's erstwhile BF. They will not be here for at least two hours, given that the football game jsut ended, and they will have to negotiate the traffic. It's actually good that they're running late. At this rate, we won't sit down to eat until 9:00. Beer count: stopped at 5. Excusable Extraordinary Beer Consumption License expired with onset of heavy rain and evacuation of the brisket. Had a big glass of lemonade, and noticed a magnum of Yellow Tail Shiraz lurking in a corner of the kitchen. May open that.

This is true. I quit tending bar before the 'tini craze, but in five years behind the counter, I never had a customer order one. Try it and you'll see why. Putting the gin in the freezer is a great idea.

4:25 Ladies and gentlemen, the brisket has left the building. In the face of heavy rain accompanied by thunder and lightning, we had to abandon the grill. Tending the fire had become impossible. The meat now reposes in a 250 degree oven, with an internal temperature of 149 degrees. My assumption, based on Goddess of the Smoke Cathy's criteria, is that the meat was not going to accept more smoke, anyway. The roast has developed a beautiful crust, and exudes a characteristic smoky redolence. The entire house now smells like the best parts of Memphis and Kansas City. Now we're waiting for conclusion of Cooking Process 2: collagen->gelatin development. I will cook the brisket to an internal temp of 170, then call it done at two hours past that point. By then, I expect a certain level of tenderness will have been achieved. Since this has now turned into a rather ordinary project, I will discontinue the diary, unless there is an unexpected public outcry. Thank you for your support.

3:00 Returned from auto retrieval trip through pouring rain. Fire was practically out, though it might have gone out rain or no rain. Oven temp 135. Certainly the water covering the grill did nothing to help maintain heat. I check the meat temp. It is 145, so out of the danger zone. I'm not too concerned about bugs, since we're headed for about 170, and will try to maintain this for two hours, but I'd rather not have to think about it. I set up another chimney's worth of charcoal. Usually, I set the chimney on top of an overturned galvanized bucket. However, the bucket is wet. I retrieve another foil pan and set it upside down on top of the bucket, and set the chimney on that. While the charcoal works, I tidy up a bit, then remove the temp probe from the meat. Juice gushes out. Quickly replace probe and cap gusher. Now I will have to rely on the grill's thermometer, since I seem to have left my oven thermometer at my Mother's. I have been observing the grill indicator throughout, trying to get an idea of its accuracy. It lags about 10 minutes, and is accurate +/- about 35 degrees. however, in the target zone, it has been reliably ten degrees below the probe temperature, so at least I have some guide. I pick up the chimney to deposit the charcoal in the grill and see that the charcoal has burned through the foil pan. Wow! I can't remember the melting point of aluminum, but it is pretty damn high. Closed grill after rotating now permanently probed meat. With fire back on track and no more errands to run, check the time. It is beer:30.

Nina's correct. A Gibson is gin, dry vermouth and an onion. A Gimlet is gin and lime juice (traditionally Rose's, which adds some sugar to the mix). Very tasty. Very dangerous. Nina, aren't you going to tell us how it turned out?

1:45 Looks like rain. beer count: 3

1:00 Distracted by other eGullet threads, have neglected rig. Temp has fallen to 145. Add a few more lumps of charcoal and open the side vent. After ten minutes, I decide the fire is not responding. I set up the chimney and light another two quarts, which seems like the least amount that will light efficiently. This is going in less than five minutes. I cover the meat with a quarter-sheet pan and dump the contents, then remove some of the larger chunks to the standby foil pan. I add a piece of hickory, remove the sheet pan and close the lid. I go inside and get distracted by video game younger son and friend are playing. Excuse myself to download beer. Return to video game and eventually realize that constant ringing sound is not related to the game. Dash outside to find oven temp at 325 and climbing rapidly. I close off the side vent and open the grill. The hickory is flaming, but not actually putting off much smoke. I remove it along with a few more pieces of charcoal, attempting to restore previous 5 x 5 x 1-1/2 size. By now the hickory is down to a smolder, so I place it next to the fire and close the lid, after rotating the meat. The thermometer, which has sunk to 130 while the grill was open, comes back up to 230. Pretty good. Of course, I now have this nuclear waste pile in the foil pan. I set the pan in a galvanized bucket. Strategic problem coming up. I will need to take the older son to pick up his car at the repair shop. This will take 45 to 60 minutes. how to maintain a reasonable temperature during this time? I decide to soak some hickory chunks in water. I'll let the fire get up to about 275, then add the soakers and hope for the best. I should check the internal meat temp next time around. Beer count: 3 and holding (pending vehicular operation).

11:56 Having been distracted by an escaped beagle, I return to check the rig. The oven temp has fallen to 164! No smoke! Don't panic. I don't want to over-react and end up with big temperature swings--going from 160 to 325, then back down again as I attempt to maintain control. I add a few smaller pieces of charcoal that I hope will light up quickly. I also add a few smaller pieces of hickory, as I have noticed that it flames faster than the charcoal. My hope is that the hickory will light the oak and revive the fire. I open the side vent all the way and close the lid. Decide to skip rotation this time. Set timer for another 30 minutes. Wonder: how I could set up a low temp alarm. Panic is assuaged by another beer and a check after fifteen minutes. The oven temperature is back to 204 (though climbing slowly), and wisps of smoke are coming out of the chimney. Pat myself on back. Wonder: too soon to celebrate with another beer? Beer count: 2.5

11:30 At 30 minutes, the oven temp is, amazingly, still at 213. I duck in, rotate the meat and check the fire. I am astonished at how small a fire is needed to maintain the oven temperature. It is a pile about 5 x 5 x 1-1/2 inches. It's no longer billowing smoke, but I'm still getting very strong wisping action. I move the hickory chunks to the edge of the fire. Close the lid. The oven temp has dropped to 164, but is back to 204 in a little over two minutes. Whether it's the bricks, the water or both, the heat mass buffer is definitely working. Set timer for another 30 minutes. Beer count: 1

10:30 a.m. I have overslept, so I rush to get the smoking act together. Grill is cleaned (well, the grates have been brushed and the charcoal pan is empty, anyway), and I have two quarts of oak charcoal alight in the chimney. I prepare the grill by setting an aluminum foil turkey roaster on the left side of the charcoal pan, lay two bricks along its right side, and add one gallon of water to the roaster. I lay the grates on the rails over the roaster. I open the side and top vents halfway. I turn to the charcoal. It is half gone! Having cooked with briquets and chips all summer, I have forgotten how much faster and hotter real charcoal burns. I believe combustion has also been accelerated by the Weber charcoal chimney, which is clearly superior to the Home Depot chimney. Concerned at being down one quart already, I dump the charcoal into the right side of the grill, mount a probe thermometer on the left and close the lid. I set the temp alarm for 250 and go inside to get the meat. When I come back out, the temp alarm is shrieking. We're at 255 and climbing. I close the side vent. After about 10 minutes the temp levels off at 272. This is a problem. According to CathyL, I want the oven temp to be between 200 and 250, though I am not to be concerned about temporary dips and spikes. Obviously, the oven will cool over time, but it seems to me that I want the initial temp to be as low as possible, in order to maximize the smoking time. Assuming an initial meat temp of ~40, I have 100 degrees before the meat no longer accepts smoke. I want this to last as long as possible. I dig out another foil pan and remove a few pieces of charcoal to it. The temperature comes down to 245. Figuring that I will cause a significant dip when I put the meat on, I decide that this is a good starting point. I place the meat, fat side up, on the grates over the water pan. Thinking about Beer Can Chicken, I wonder of using some other liquid will give me a flavor boost. Not sure what I would use. There are already so many flavors going on in the meat, the dry rub and the smoke that I am indecisive. Finally I decide that it is a variable that I am not going to deal with this time around, and leave the water alone. Meat is on. Meat surface temp 39 degrees, internal temp 35; oven temp 220. I put a half-dozen hickory chunks in an aluminum pie plate and set them on top of the charcoal and close the lid. After 10 minutes, the oven temperature has dropped to 204. I decide am smothering the charcoal. Anyway the hickory is not smoldering, and I am losing valuable meat degrees without benefit of smoke. I put the hickory directly in the fire. It begins smoking almost immediately. Five more minutes. Great plumes of smoke, but the temp is tailing off. I slide a couple of chunks of charcoal in through the side vent. The temperature comes up to 213 and settles. Very nice. Set timer for 30 minutes, when I will rotate meat. Wonder if I should flip as well. The Colonel made a point of letting the fat cap baste the meat as it cooked. If I flip, the fat will be on the bottom. Decide there is time to figure this out later. Beer count: 0 No beer before breakfast. Decide it is time for breakfast.

Nick--how would you go about straining?

Nina, I'm with you. For a martini, you want gin. Those overly refined liquids are for people who don't really like the taste of gin. Rather than Tanqueray, I prefer Bombay or Beefeater, or Boodles, when I can find it. Here's my recipe: Makes 2 3 ounces gin 1-1/2 T dry vermouth (I like Noilly Prat, but Cinzano and even Martini and Rossi are fine) Cracked, not crushed, ice 2 sections lemon peel with pith, about 1/4 x 1-1/2 inches 2 strips lemon zest, about 1/4 x 1 inch 1. Put some ice in two martini glasses and add water to fill. 2. Put a handful of ice in your mixing container. Add the gin and vermouth. 3. Shake a little more than gently for about five seconds (count it out--it's longer than you might think). 4. Empty the glasses and shake to dry. Don't get anal about it--a few drops of h20 will matter less than letting the glasses warm up. 5. Twist one lemon strip over each glass; this should deposit about one drop of lemon oil. 6. Strain half of liquid into each glass. 7. Curl the zest and float on liquid. 8. Drink. 9. Repeat as necessary.

Colonel: Thanks for all the advice. I'll call Char-Grill next week and give them the upgrade pitch. Are you saying that the firebox is simply another grill that gets grafted onto the firebox of the bigger grill? Very clever. I found a six-pound hunk of brisket at Costco for $2.69/lb., so I'm pretty pleased. I'll give it a rub tonight and throw it on the grill Sunday. Do you want a report? John and Nick: thanks for the new sites. I've heard of both gentlemen, but hadn't had a chance to track down their web-based whereabouts. btw, we kept the wood, but not for a fire--it was Southern pine, and not really suitable for anything but mulch, and that only in certain beds (very acid). The rule was that anything over 4 inches in diameter was protected by the neighborhood covenants. This is an absurd rule, because a Southern pine will grow from a seedling to four inches in two years or less--they're like weeds here in Atlanta. The rule is designed to maintain a certain greenspace, and in particular protect hardwoods, of course (I am in complete agreement with this, actually), but we got caught taking out a tree that we were afraid would fall on the house in the next ice storm. Later, with permission, we cut down a lightning-struck oak, but it had gotten infested. Such is life in the 'burbs. Thanks again, everybody. (8^Dave

OK, you're a demigod. I had planned to use a foil pan under the brisket, but I hadn't thought about putting water in it, though for some reason, I always think about it when I take ribs off the grill. Then I forget about it until I'm done with the next batch. Using it as a thermal buffer is very clever. Makes one wonder if a few well-placed bricks would help stabilize the temperature. That's sort of what a brick pit does, isn't it? I'm on board with chimneys--but the tip of starting with half a load is helpful. Obvious when you think about it, but I hadn't. I'm also on board with brining, but I'm always looking for new information. Thanks for the link. And the link to the Char-Griller was particularly spooky, as that is the grill that I have, too. I simply haven't gotten around to buying the side box yet. Glad to know you consider it a good purchase. And don't laugh about the NN's. Last year we had to pay a $300 fine for cutting down a tree without their permission.

I was thinking this, too. But there is so much fat in avocado (sorry to bring it up!) that it would be a tricky business. Not that it's not worth trying... By the way, I have to thank all of you, not just for an interesting thread, but for making me consider avocados in a new way. I have always thought of it as a vegetable. But last night, I made guacamole for my wife's office party. When I tasted it, it was OK, but didn't quite harmonize. With this thread and it's "avocado is a fruit" mantra on my mind, I added a pinch of sugar--not enough to taste explicity, but what I thought was enough to have an impact. What a difference! The whole thing came together--the lime juice softened, the veg note of the jalapeno perked up, the onion became more of an underpinning, and the whole thing was more well, avocaddish. I was stunned. Raves all around at the party today. Thanks again.

Thanks everybody--a lot of great information. Charcoal grill--Check. It's a serious grill that I bought to handle burgers and dogs for the hordes at swimming meets over the summer. The construction details are not as nice as a Weber, but it has the things I think are important (I'd welcome critique here): adjustable charcoal pan, adjustable vents top and bottom, cast-iron grates, work space. John: You seem concerned about the lack of a dedicated smoker. Does this grill sound workable to you? Charcoal--Check. I've got lots of oak charcoal, and some sugar maple I got on special at Whole Foods, but I save that for pork. Rub--Check. I do my own for steaks, ribs, chicken. Do you expect any penetration from the rub, or is it mostly a crust/aroma thing? Wood chips--check. In doing back ribs (about four hours), I find that mesquite gets unpleasantly pungent, so I'll go for hickory. Fat cap--check/Internal trimming verboten--check. Pit--not unless I want the Neighborhood Nazis knocking on my door. It sounds like the biggest challenge is maintaining the temperature: too high and you cook it before you get it smoked, too low and it never gets done. Any pointers here? Klink, you are a god. And CathyL, you may be a goddess.

Cathy: can you confirm that 140 degrees is the external temperature? It seems like it would reach this pretty fast. And if it stops absorbing smoke at this point, is there any reason not to move the brisket to the oven, like Dana suggests? (A reason, of course, besides the extended opportunity for traditional alcoholic beverage consumption that attends the keeping of a fire.)

ChefJeff: Thanks. This is my fallback plan. In fact, I've done pork shoulder in an almost identical manner. It's great shredded, stuffed into soft rolls with a little sauce, wrapped in foil and stuck in the jacket pocket for retrieval about halfway through the second quarter of Saturday's football game (not receommended if you're actually playing). Dana: do you use hardwood charcoal, briquets, or a combination? Do you pay much attention to temperature, or just wing it because it always turns out good anyway? (8^D

The middle child has been yammering all summer for "brisket like we used to get in Texas." I don't have a smoker, but I've got a reasonably-sized (~ 22" x 36") grill. I'm pretty accomplished at ribs and chicken and the usual stuff, but I've never done a big hunk of meat on the grill, and I've never cooked fresh brisket in any form. Make my little girl happy and pass along some tips--I know there's some heavy smokers out there.

I believe this is evidence of gender bias.

People who haven't lived there wouldn't believe what a great donut town Houston is--I swear there are more donut shops than there are McDonald's, and many of them are independent, family bakers. But what I really miss about Houston are kolaches...

I feel I must defend the honor of this Southern delicacy. How is this possible? What do you expect? They come from the region that elevated pork fat to one of the major food groups. How else could you be expected to eat six before getting out of the parking lot? This is much better than another Starbucks. Sweet they may be, but Krispy Kremes will never try and convince you that a burnt donut is in any way authentic.

I started out with the old apron wrap, but it seemed every time I went somewhere to cook, I found myself more deeply attached to my tools, and less willing to rely on whatever version of it I might find where I was going. Then we started renting houses on the Florida panhandle with some regularity, and I could never predict what might be in the drawers. Finally, this summer, we 'volunteered' to handle concessions for the neighborhood swim meets, and I found myself carting a load of stuff twice a week for six weeks. I started looking for a tackle box/tool box. I was about to pick one up at Sears when, while at a craft store, I saw this: It's plastic (a bit of a drawback in my book), but that does make it lighter than metal. But what's really great about it is its expandabilty and configurability. Each of those bottom sections can be removed-housing and all- or you can add more sections (I have four). Each is a divided slide-out plastic box that can be subdivided with hard plastic tabs. I got some foam rubber and cut some rudimentary blocks for holding knives, and divided the rest off to hold other stuff. The bulky things go in the top, where they can be cushioned, if necessary, by an apron, or towels, or welding gloves (the oven mitt of choice in my kitchen). If I'm going to my mother's, where I know the lay of the land, I can take the top and the section with my knives. If I'm headed for Destin and lots of fresh seafood and huge family breakfasts, I can add two or three sections, with whisks and measuring cups and hemostats, so that I'm sure I'll have what I need. This works for me, but I'm really interested to see other solutions.