Monday, May 30, 2016

Zen and the Art of Smoking



I can now reveal the real reason my wife, Nancy and I relocated to LaGrange, Georgia.  It is all about the smoke.

My wife's sister lives in LaGrange and during holiday family visits her husband Mike would often fire up his smoker and produce the most amazing smoked meats.  Between our infrequent holiday visits, I would encourage Nancy to visit her sister to ostensibly spend time with her sister and two nieces.  I, however, had an ulterior motive.  Often on the last day of her visit, Mike would get up in the middle of the night, fire up the smoker, and smoke a pork shoulder for Nancy to take home to me.

To facilitate this process I always made sure Nancy had some gifts to take to our nieces which would require an extra piece of luggage, which, coincidentally, would be large enough to hold a smoked pork roast.

A few hours before Nancy's flight home, Mike would take the roast out of the smoker, wrap in many layers of aluminum foil, seal it in an extra large zip lock bag and place it in Nancy's carry on luggage. Nancy would then rush off to the airport to catch the last flight from Atlanta to San Francisco.

Transporting the smoked pork roast across the country was a true act of love.  Imagine going through airport security with a tin foil wrapped soccer ball sized roast.  Nancy would first explain to the TSA inspector that she was bringing a pork roast home to her husband.  With raised eyebrows her luggage went through the scanner and was then selected for "further inspection."  Sometimes just opening up the zip lock bag and letting the inspector smell the roast was enough, but other times she had to unwrap the roast to let them see the meat.  She would then fly home filling the cabin with the smell of fresh smoked meat.

I would meet Nancy at the airport, we would rush home, have a quick sample of the meat, and then quickly portion out the rest and place the portions into the freezer.  These were then carefully rationed to last for a month or two.  I would then subtly start suggesting that maybe it was time for Nancy to visit her sister again.  Using this strategy I would get one or two pork roasts a year.

The decision to sell our home in Silicon Valley and build a new home in Las Vegas meant that we needed a temporary place to live for a year or two while our new home was under construction.  I recognized this as an opportunity to finally fulfill one of my secret ambitions.  I could use this time to learn the art of meat smoking,

We discussed the many places we could move while our home was being built.  We could live in New York, or near a beach or even a foreign country.  I however, started to drop hints about how nice it would be to live near family.  We soon agreed that we would relocate to LaGrange, GA. and I could start my apprenticeship in meat smoking.

Smoking meat is not for the impatient.  It is the original "slow food." The night before the actual smoking before you prepare the meat.  Mike showed me how you first wash the roast, pat it dry and then work in the rub.  There are a large variety of rubs and part of fun is choosing the right rub for each type of meat. You then do some other preparations and place the roast into large zip lock bags. You then let the rub marinate overnight to work itself into the meat.

Early the next morning you fire up the smoker and place the meat inside.  Now for the most important lesson I learned about smoking.  "Leave the meat alone" For the next 10-12 hours you don't do anything with the meat, you don't open the door, you don't look at the meat, you don't even turn it over.  Every few hours or so you just open up the firebox on the smoker and insert some wood chips to generate smoke.  Different types of wood were more appropriate for different types of meats and sometimes even combinations are called for.
Waiting is the hardest part of the entire process.  During football season, you start the smoker, spend the day watching football, with an occasional break to insert some more wood chips.  When the last game is over, your meat should be done.  Since we were cooking during the summer, we would just pull up our chairs and watch the smoke slowly wafting out of the smoker chimney with an occasional break for beer or diet coke.
Finally, Mike declared the meat done.  We took it out of the smoker but unfortunately the wait was not yet over, as had to let the meat rest for 20-30 minutes.  Almost a day since we had started, we could finally eat.

Was it worth 24 hours for a pulled pork sandwich?  Absolutely, it was the greatest pulled pork I had ever eaten and we feasted on it for a week.

We fire up the smoker next weekend and tackle beef brisket.

My stomach can't wait.

And if you find yourself near Atlanta, give us at least a day's notice and I'll smoke up some of the best meat you are ever going to taste.





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