Smoke in the Backyard, Fire in the Sky

There are things in cooking which are quantifiable and things which are qualifiable. Example: 3 large chicken eggs is the perfect number to make a french omelet. It gives it the perfect thickeness and cooking time. Creamy curds, smooth as a baby's bottom. Example: pimenton gives richness and depth to stews such as chili. There is, however a third factor that can not be explained logically, rationally, scientifically, or in any way that would be accepted by the average Wal-Mart McDonald's American. Food made with love tastes better. I challenge you to find a single chef, foodie, or mother who would dare suggest otherwise. There are many ways to add love to food, whether using home grown ingredients, taking extra steps to please the end consumers, the list goes on. One of my favorite ways is a little thing called "low and slow".

I'll spare the scientific details (read On Food and Cooking or watch Good Eats for those), but certain cuts of meat, specifically, the more active muscles on an animal, contain connective tissue that, if cooked quickly, mimics the texture of a worn out bike tire. These cuts contain far more flavor than the ever-popular tenderloin (think filet mignon), but require more care, more finesse, more... love to create silky, rich, voluptous dishes. Such is the shortrib. English style shortribs, those cut between the bones for single, five inch bones loaded with meat, are full of fat and connective tissue, and can not under any circumstances be cooked quickly. There are many ways to cook low and slow, including braising, slow roasting, and smoking.

I recently acquired a new electric smoker and had to try it out. Let's take a few steps back. It's not a new smoker, but it was unused. It was sitting in my grandma's basement for several years. Previously, it was at my Aunt's house. She liberated it from someone's basura. Prior to that, it surely went unused in someone else's basement for many years. The company producing the product, the United States Stove Company, sold the line of smokers many years ago to Brinkmann, who currently produces similar, yet more modern, models. Therefore, this is an old smoker. Lacking instructions or all of the necessary parts, I went into "wing it" mode. Acquire hardwood (hickory) chunks, check. Lava rocks, check. Safety equipment... meh.

Step one when smoking is to brine. At its basest, a brine is salt and sugar dissolved in a large amount of water. The addition of herbs and spices can flavor the meat from within, a far more harmonious marriage of olfactory sensations than saucing after cooking. Always remember, sauce is a myth. Dry rub is crucial. Dry rub preferences vary drastically from person to person. I like to use a paprika base, lots of dried herbs (heavy on ground thyme), with cumin, anise, coriander, mustard, and other spices, and just a smidgen of brown sugar for adhesion and crunch. I like to omit salt, applying directly to the meat. It's a lot easier to control that way. After brine and dry rub, there are no necessary flavor additions. Leave the bbq sauce, mustard, A-1, and (shudder) ketchup at the Arby's where they're needed.

Oops... There is one more crucial flavor to be added when smoking. Smoke. Many people use chips, and that's great when you want to throw them on the grill for a bit of added flavor, but they are insufficient for slow smoking. Large chunks, at least two inches long in at least two dimensions are best. They produce more smoke over a longer period of time and require less handling and futzing. A good long soak in water prior to smoking will prolong the effect of the chunks. Highly aromatic woods such as hickory and mesquite are traditional for giving a strong smoke flavor to the food. I prefer fruit woods such as apple or peach to give a more refined character to the dish, especially if it is more delicate like salmon. These ribs got hickory, though. Aside from that, follow the directions for the smoker and cook on.

About four hours of smoking is required to fully break down the collagen holding the meat together into gelatin, its constituent molecule. What is left is a richly flavored meat, concentrated in umami from smoke penetration and moisture reduction. The meat shouldn't be dry as long dry cooking might suggest; fat and gelatin should coat the fibers giving it that distinctively sensuous mouthfeel. Nobody would miss pork when eating these ribs. Please please please. You're using cheap meat. Garbage cuts. Splurge on a nice bottle of red wine, rich in noble tannins, like an aged Bordeaux, Napa Cabernet, or Barolo. It'll be well worth the extra expense. Beer works too, but try to expand your horizons and live outside of your box. Try something new. Most of all, never forget to put a little love in your food.