Jan 06 2007
January Barbecue
Yeah, okay, it’s January, and I grant it may seem to be odd timing for barbecue. However, I have leftover bourbon from Christmas (I never drink alcohol in even minute amounts, so that’s not an option) I need to use, and we’re having an unseasonably warm period. And barbecue the way I think of barbecue is all about smoking the meat, and not the sauce. So odd it may be, but it’s really good.
Before you start, please read my article on smoking meat on your grill. There’s no point in doing this if you’re not going to smoke it.
Carolina Barbecue
Like chili, barbecue is fiercely partisan. Did you know there was such a thing as Pennsylvania barbecue? No, I haven’t tried it, but I’m skeptical. Georgia has the most minimal barbecue, often basted with only vinegar and cayenne. Kansas City has the most baroque barbecue, smothered in sticky sweet tomato-y sauce. And then there’s Texas barbecue, not nearly as sweet as Kansas City, smokier, and spicier.
One split is whether barbecue should be sweet or vinegary. Another split is how spicy barbecue should be. Another is baste or dry rub (or both). But the real split is between north and south, and what barbecue is all about. In the north, barbecue is about smothering it in (usually cloyingly sweet) sauce, and people “barbecue” in the oven or even crock pots. In the south, the point of barbecue is smoking the meat, and the sauce is incidental.
I’m partisan when it comes to barbecue, though not as partisan as some. I love Kentucky barbecue, Tennessee barbecue, Texas barbecue, Georgia barbecue, Carolina barbecue, just about any barbecue from Dixie. I come down firmly on the side of the Confederates on barbecue, and just as firmly against the Yankees: Barbecue is about the smoky meat, not the sauce. I intensely dislike cloyingly sweet, Kansas City style barbecue, and want just enough non-sweet, spicy sauce to keep my barbecue moist and add a bit of additional flavor. Just say NO! to KC Masterpiece and all those other designer sauces! (I’ve had a mustard-based barbecue sauce, and it tasted fine, though it looked disgusting.) When I order barbecue out, I want the sauce on the side so I can first taste it, and if I like it, put just enough on to moisten the barbecue. I strongly prefer non-tomato sauces to tomato-based sauces, though I do love a good, spicy, smoky Texas barbecue.
This is barbecue as it’s done in the Carolinas. Not sweet, but smoky and spicy. The meat is rubbed with a dry rub, then wrapped up and left overnight in the refrigerator. There is a basting sauce, and what little is left is used to moisten the barbecue, a good introduction for those who think barbecue is about sauce. Very good stuff. Try it. You may find yourself converted.
You can, of course, use this recipe to barbecue ribs or chicken. To barbecue chicken, either buy chickens split in halves (I haven’t seen any here). Or split chickens in half through the breastbone and backbone yourself. Or just split chickens through the breastbone, flip them over, and flatten them by pressing down on the breastbone and breaking it, Chinese style.
Rub:
2 T. paprika
2 T. salt
1 T. black pepper, ground
2 t. cayenne, ground
Sauce:
1 1/2 c. cider vinegar
1/2 c. bourbon (or apple cider)
1 c. water
2 T. molasses
2 T. salt
4 chipotles in adobo, finely chopped
1 T. red pepper flakes
1 T. black pepper
1 t. cayenne, ground
1 5-6 lb. pork shoulder (or boston butt) roast, or spare ribs (you’re a fool if you buy baby back ribs) or 2 chickens, halved
Mix all rub ingredients. Coat the meat with the rub — and I don’t mean sprinkle it on. I mean press it into the meat, one side at a time, leaving not the tiniest bit unexposed (it tends to be a messy process, but it’s easy to clean up), and keep pressing the dry rub into the meat until there is none left. Cover the meat with plastic wrap, place on a plate, and refrigerate 8 to 24 hours. (For simplicity’s sake, I’m going to proceed as if you’re barbecuing a pork roast for pulled pork. Substitute as appropriate in the directions.)
You’re going to cold smoke the pork. You’ll start the fire on one side of your grill, and cook the meat on the other side, not above the flame. You’ll need your favorite charcoal to start the fire, and enough wood chunks (hickory is traditional, but use your favorite — and chunks, not chips) to burn five or six hours — figure about an hour or a little over per pound. Buy one of the big bags.
Start the fire and let the coals burn down to white ash. Soak a bunch of wood chunks in water. When the coals are almost ready, drain the chunks thoroughly.
On the other side of the grill, put an aluminum pie pan below the grill to catch juices, and add a cup of water, beer, or apple cider (the primary purpose is to keep the roast moist, but it also can add a subtle flavor). Unwrap the pork (do I really need to say that?) and place it on the grill above the pie pan. Place the soaked chunks on top of the coals and immediately close the cover of the grill.
Adjust the vents or the height of the grills (or however your grill works) to keep the inside temperature between 200 and 250. Check the temperature and the fire every 30 minutes. Keep chunks soaking, and when you add more chunks, add half soaked and half unsoaked chunks (so the moisture doesn’t kill the fire before the roast is done). Add more chunks as needed to keep the fire hot and smoking, and turn the roast every hour.
Two hours before the meat will be done (approximate this — an hour or so per pound), mix the sauce ingredients. Baste the roast with the sauce, turn it, and baste it again. Repeat every 30 minutes until the roast registers 185 on a meat thermometer. Remove the roast, and let it sit for at least 30 minutes (an hour is better).
Bring the remaining sauce to a boil (there won’t be much left), then simmer for 15 minutes over low heat. With forks, pull the meat apart and put it in a bowl. Mix in just enough of the sauce to moisten it, and serve with cole slaw and fried cinnamon apples.
Cole Slaw
I grew up with slaw made with cooked dressing. Then, I had this slaw at somebody’s house that was so good I couldn’t stop eating it, so I asked for the recipe. One package slaw mix (cabbage and carrots), one shredded onion, 1/2 cup (each_ mayonnaise and Marzetti’s slaw dressing, salt, pepper, and celery seed. I don’t know where the cooked slaw dressing recipe is. I haven’t seen it (or pined for it) since I discovered this. Quick. Easy. And really good.
Fried Cinnamon Apples
4 T. butter
4 Granny Smiths, Jonathans, or Winesaps
1/2 c. dark brown sugar
1 t. cinnamon
2 T. water (in my case, bourbon, because that’s about how much I’ll have left)
Core, peel, and slice apples. Heat a large skillet over medium heat and add the butter. When melted, add the apple slices, and stir thoroughly. Cook about five minutes, then turn the apples. Add the sugar, cinnamon, and water, and cook uncovered until apples are soft. Serve hot.
4 responses so far
4 Responses to “January Barbecue”
We’ve got one of those barbecuers with the separate griller and smoker chambers but all I ever use the latter for is to smoke salmon and oysters. I use the griller for steaks, lamb chops and my home-made boerewors (sausages.) In South Africa most meat is cooked on an outdoor grill which we call braaivleis. That’s the way I still do it - rare on the inside and slightly charred on the outside and not a drop of sauce is added. I do not like sugar or molasses anywhere near my meat. Meat is sweet enough and just needs salt and pepper. Barbecue sauce? Shudder!
So you do eat some salad - at least coleslaw?
There’s nothing sweet about this barbecue. And you’re cheating yourself if you have a smoker, but don’t use it to smoke meat.
Tsk, tsk, tsk.
[…] […]
Actually I am going to try smoking my home-made sausage first before ruining an expensive cut of meat.