Smokin' diary

[Dave the Cook]

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.

[CathyL]

It's definitely time for a beer.

Don't flip the brisket over. At some point you may want to rotate it, so that the end farthest from the fire is now closest.

And don't waste beer or other flavored liquids in the water pan - they won't contribute any flavor to the meat. I also respectfully disagree with Col. Klink that the water pan keeps the meat moist; in a vented cooker, the steam adds only a negligible amount of moisture to the air.

Also, be careful about overdoing the smoke. Great plumes could mean creosote, and that's not a taste you want with brisket.

Keep the reports comin'.

[Dave the Cook]

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

[Dave the Cook]

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

[Dave the Cook]

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).

[Dave the Cook]

1:45

Looks like rain.

beer count: 3

[Dave the Cook]

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.

[Dave the Cook]

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.

[Shiva]

Well, I don't know about anyone else, but I'd love to see some pics of the finished product.

It's no sin to finish it in the oven. As you guessed, it's absorbed all the smoke flavor it's going to.

[Jinmyo]

Dave, please finish off the journal.

[CathyL]

Dave, two hours past 170 may be done or may be not. Please be prepared to leave it languishing in the oven longer, until it's fork tender. If the meat's internal temp should stall out before 170 and want to stay there for a while, be cheered - the collagen is doing its work.

Congratulations on what is shaping up to be a very successful project, with a requisite dose of drama, and please do let us know the results, especially with your kids. How are you planning to serve it? And doesn't the house smell incredible?

[torakris]

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. 

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Don't leave us hanging!

What happened?

How was it?

[Dave the Cook]

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.

[Gavin Jones]

I hope you opened the magnum.

I enjoyed that in slow motion & was drinking along with the thread.

[Jaymes]

The entire house now smells like the best parts of Memphis and Kansas City.

But not yet Texas, eh?

(Keeping in mind the original request, I mean.)

[CathyL]

The entire house now smells like the best parts of Memphis and Kansas City.

But not yet Texas, eh?

(Keeping in mind the original request, I mean.)

The southwestern parts of Memphis & KC.

[Dave the Cook]

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.

[CathyL]

YAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY DAVE!!!!

[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.

[CathyL]

This serial business is unbearably suspenseful.

So, what was the audience reaction?

[gknl]

I second CathyL! How was it? And was it worth it?

I owe all of you thanks for inspiration and advice too. I tried smoking meat for the first time yesterday, pork tenderloins, after reading about your efforts. Despite winging it and not having a clue about what I was doing except for what I read here, and making a lot of bonehead mistakes, it was one of the best things ever to come out of the grill. Something I'll definitely do again.

[CathyL]

Grant, that's terrific! Try a pork butt or shoulder some time - the combination of slow-cooked pig and hickory is fantastic.

A little smoke is also nice with leg of lamb and roast beef...

[Dave the Cook]

I apologize for not posting this a lot sooner. I haven't been trying to keep you in suspense so much as I've been trying to keep my job. Occasionally I have to do a little work, or they'll wonder why they pay me.

And now, The Final Chapter

8:45

There is a moment, when the table is set, the glassware sparkling, the silverware shining, the food mounted just so--moist or crisp or reposing in glory as is appropriate--a moment when you realize why you go to all the trouble. Which is why you then proceed to utterly destroy it in a matter of seconds.

But first, Mrs. Dave looks around and wonders aloud where her wine glass is. Mr. Dave, who is sure he has not gulped 750 milliliters of wine alone, despite the tacit encouragement of one Mr. Gavin Jones, is strangely silent.

The brisket is passed, with an explanation of the saucing possibilities. The girl goes immediately for the 'cue-sauced verison, as does Thing 2, otherwise known as the Younger Boy, who, despite a (short) lifetime of surprising ominvorousness, has lately displayed a preference for the utterly familiar. The more mature family members, being Mr. Dave, Mrs. Dave, and Thing 1, adopt a more adventurous attitude and take naked brisket. Thing 1, a high school senior who hopes to matriculate next year in a multi-disciplinary program featuring Detachment, Irony and Nonchalance, displays his usual flair for design by crafting perfectly circular dipping pools of the three sauces, and proceeds to work his way through a pound of meat that he has artfully terraced at the edge of his plate.

I venture that the citrus sauce is not up to the job, but Mrs. Dave demurs, pointing out that I started with the bbq sauce (and, she does not say, a quart of wine), and this has probably destroyed my ability to render honest judgment over anything remotely subtle. She likes it, which is good enough for me. Thing 2 issues a blanket rating of the meal with his highest appellation: Awesome. Thing 1, clutching a brisket-laden fork, points to the chimichurri and blurts with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, "That stuff is good!" The Girl is silent, but this is because she has her mouth full. No fancy sauces for her--she's sticking with the tried and true.

We finish up with Snickerdoodle ice cream.

The table is cleared, and the Girl and I are cleaning up. I have wrapped the brisket in a tight envelope of plastic wrap, and transferred the sauces to storage containers. The sour cream will work for lightly spiced grilled chicken or fish--maybe even pork, if it's not too fatty. I'm still contemplating the future of the chimichurri. Mrs. Dave has suggested it as a spread for a baguette or pita, so it will show up at the table again. Thing 1 is dreaming up a chimichurri smoothie.

Finally, I can bear it no longer. I ask the Girl. How was it? Was it what you expected? Was it what you wanted? Did you like it? Was it as good as you had in Texas?

"Yes, Daddy. Thank you. It was better."

My heart leaps. "It was?"

"Yes. Your sauce was better."

Must hide evidence.

----------------------------------------------

Thanks to Cathy, the Colonel, ChefJeff, Double 0, Dana and John the Haunted Chef. It wouldn't have been nearly as good without your help.

Was it worth it? Oh yes. We're going for a pork butt next, and I've got my eye on some fresh andouille at the farmer's market. Besides, anybody who's ever had a daughter say "Thank you, Daddy," wouldn't doubt it for a second.

[Nick]

Dave, That was GREAT! Thanks!

[bigbear]

Great read. Thanks.

By the way, pork butt rules.