Low And Slow

Wow, it's hard to believe that this is my 300th post. I would have hit it months ago if not for my laziness and overall lack of dedication. We could dwell on the negative all day, or we can move on and celebrate the big triple century. Let's do that shall we? Today's story is about overcoming fear and facing down one's insecurities. Sounds fascinating doesn't it? Get back to me at the end.

Our story starts four years ago. I had gone to Memphis to see one of my brothers graduate from college after an illustrious ten year run. Yeah, ten, but that's not the point. He was also part of a barbecue team that was competing in the "Memphis In May World Championship Bar-B-Que Cook Off". I came home hopped up on smoked meat and told "Wife" that I thought it would be cool to get a smoker and start smoking meats of all shapes and sizes for our consumption. "Wife" sometimes pays attention to my ramblings, and this was one of those times. That Father's Day, she and "Daughter" presented me with a full size smoker, that she assured me was "a good one" since she had talked to my brother and done some research. I was grateful, and did what I do with most gifts, put it away.

The giant box sat in our garage for over a year. "I need to put that smoker together" I was heard to mutter on many occasions. Finally, I sucked it up and spent a day assembling this cooking behemoth. I gave it a special place on the patio, got a good thermometer so I could monitor the smoker's internal temperature and bought it a snappy black cover. The dog ate the first cover, the dog ate a second cover. The smoker sat gathering dust. We loaded it on the moving van almost two years ago and brought it to Chicago. The wind sent the third cover to parts unknown. Still the smoker sat, silently mocking me, letting me know that my fear of failure was keeping me from enjoying the pink ringed goodness of a smoked pork shoulder or the unbridled thrill of devouring a slab of ribs. Finally last Summer, I seasoned the smoker. The fire burned and hickory smoke filled the neighborhood with anticipation of meals to come. I was almost ready. It would only take another year.

The other day I had a "put your foot down moment". I decided I had to use the smoker. I love all things Bar-B-Que. The food, the social aspect and the beer drinking. The one thing I had a hard time justifying was the time you need to dedicate to real barbecue. If you are one of the uninitiated, barbecue is different from grilling. When you grill, you cook over direct heat and flame. When you barbecue, you cook over low heat and the smoke does most of the work. I decided to start with something easy, Italian sausage. Just to give you an idea of the time involved, if you grill a link of sausage, it takes about fifteen minutes. To smoke that same sausage took me two hours. I had to constantly watch to see if the temperature of the smoker was too high or too low. It's like babysitting a hot fifty five gallon drum. I made a few mistakes, but was bolstered by some advice from a great book, Peace, Love, and Barbecue by Mike Mills. My mom used to say if you can read, you can cook, and this proved it. The sausage ended up being delicious, and I got raves form "Wife" and "Daughter". I'm hooked.

"Wife" has been on me for years to take up a hobby. With barbecue, three of my four favorite things are involved, cooking, eating and beer drinking. Since "Wife" loves eating barbecue, and has an occasional beer, if I play my cards right, my hobby will get me some of my fourth favorite thing. The hours it'll take for me to prepare all the succulent meat will keep me out of her hair too. Look at that, everybody wins. Any hobby that allows me to enjoy cold beer and camaraderie without having to leave my patio sounds good to me. Here's a piece of advice. Don't wait four years like I did to try something. What's the worst that can happen? Eat up. Later...Brian