Ok, so Carolyn hinted several times for me to write on her blog while she was gone to London this week. I figured it couldn't hurt, and Sunday would be my best chance. So here's the beginning of my week at the Manhattan Bachelor Pad.
No sooner had I dropped Carolyn off at the airport yesterday did I find myself at the Piggly Wiggly, filling up my basket with the Pig's finest smokable meats (I do not discriminate among bbq types, so I went with a healthy portion to satisfy both pork and bird lovers alike). I figured having an all day smoke today would be the perfect way to stock-pile some bbq in the fridge for my week of flying solo...and a perfect excuse to use the microwave and tupperware china as much as possible for eating tasty leftovers.
So about 1:00 this afternoon, I fired the egg up and prepped the ribs and chicken wings for their afternoon appointment in the smoker:
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| One rack of ribs, 20 chicken wings, dry-rubbed and ready |
After stabilizing the fire and adding some wood chips, the egg was ready to go!
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No, that is not a smudge on the lens, that's hickory smoke billowing out of the top of the egg...
you should have seen the line of neighbors forming around the block,
even longer than when the ice cream truck comes around. |
So there we are; meat and fire ready, and we're off. I don't have any recipes to share like Carolyn does (I can't give away the secret to the prized family bbq sauces - yes, a red and yellow one - or else she'd fire me as the guest blogger), so the least I can do is make you feel a part of the cooking technique...
slow cooking. To do so, Im gonna take a break from the play-by-play to give the meat time to come into its own...and tell you a little story about an apron.
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HALF-TIME BLOG STORY
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Yes, I have an apron. And I'm proud of it. Make fun of it all you want any
apron-haters who may be reading this, but Im gonna keep on wearing it. |
Once upon a time, two Christmases ago, I get an odd-sized gift from my father-in-law, Big Phil. I say it was an odd size gift because it wasn't the expected shape of a familiar tie box, which undoubtedly would include the singing Christmas tree neck tie that we've exchanged back and forth for the past 4 years (he actually lost it this year, but I think the battery had finally died anyway). So with my interest peaked, I curiously unwrap the gift to find a stunning red chef's apron inside, personalized and even game-day appropriate.
Well, as I mentioned, I became very proud of it and the apron has become an essential part of my grilling routine now. So much so, that last year I initiated a reward system for cooking delicious meals, a system patterned from the little bitty stickers football players get on their helmets when they make a big tackle or reception or do something else good. Only instead of stickers, I got mini fleur-de-lis patches that can be ironed on to my apron (I'm convinced that fleur-de-lis apparel improves my status as a wannabe cajun). Call it merit badges, flair, whatever you want...I call it character.
But you'll notice that my apron, a year into the program, is not littered with fleur-de-lis from head to toe. You might ask, is Andy just that bad at cooking? Too many burnt hot dogs or extremely well-done steaks? Nope, guess again. While it is true that I control 70% of the vote to determine when a new patch is to be awarded, I do have stringent rules: 1) the meal must be absolutely delicious, 2) it must be creative or particularly challenging, and 3) I can't get more than one fleur-de-lis for the same dish (FYI - the remaining 30% vote belongs to the others at the table for that particular meal...more like a crowd-support type vote). So, the lack of more flair in the picture above means I've just be repeating a lot of our most successful meals (oh, and I actually "outsource" most of my patch ironing to those more qualified than I, so I am overdue for at least 2 patches that have been awarded but not yet ironed on).
So now you know the story behind the red apron. Carolyn actually received a matching one of her own, but she's never worn it...or picked out a mini patch theme of her own. But you never know, she may catch on to the system soon enough, in which case her apron will fill up with character in no time.
THE END
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Ok so, we're back on the porch 3 hours later and ready to do a final check on the meat. Its been a good afternoon, getting stuff done around the house with periodic checks on the grill temperature. I can't decide on the tomato-based red sauce or the mustard-based yellow sauce, so I pull them both out, as well as some hot sauce for the wings. Let's go assess the situation.
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| Oooh, looks ready to me! |
Needless to say, everything looked good, really good. Im hoping the neighbors didn't see my double fist pump right before I took the meat off, but if they did it probably wasn't the first time. I once saw him playing air guitar with the weed-eater, so we're about even anyways. Inside we go, let the meat "rest" while I lick my lips, and prepare to dig in.
After just a few "sample bites" to make sure everything was cooked properly, I was left with a half slab of ribs and about a dozen wings...I'll be lucky if they make it till Tuesday!
