Barbecue

If only the subject line were anti-spam-bot google-bait...

So, I've been watching the collected Alton Bruininiana that the folks
over at digital distractions have archived, and I came across, in an
episode entitled "Q", a plan for constructing a home smoker out of two
unglazed terracotta flower pots, a hotplate, and a replacement grill.

Said contraption was constructed for the benefit of an anonymous pork
shoulder butt, and the later benefit of the consumers of said butt.

Genius.

My jaw dropped several times, first in astonishment, then to remove
rapidly pooling anticipatory saliva.

Last weekend, I built this smoker and smoked a three pound prime rib
roast to doneness in six hours.

Ingredients
^^^^^^^^^^^

One 3.5lb kosher angus prime rib roast (3.5lb@$12.99 per pound=$45.00)
-bones cut-off and tied to roast for easy removal
Rub - ground peppercorns, toasted cumin, rosemary, fresh minced garlic,
salt, olive oil. Enough to coat.
Hickory wood chunks
16 in. diameter terracotta planter pot
12 in. diameter terracotta planter bowl
1100W nichrome single burner hot-plate with adjustable control
6 in. stainless steel dish
18 in. Weber replacement grill rack (fits snugly on the inner ring of
the bottom pot)
Charbroil replacement grill temperature gauge
concrete single cell cinder block with ventilation holes chipped in it
by pickaxe

procedure
^^^^^^^^^

daydream about beef barbecue for two weeks
buy supplies
kibitz with butcher and fiancée
allow self to be argued into spending too much money on a cut of meat
rationalize purchase by thinking that steaks could be cut from it to
grill in case of utter extremity
drive two hours to the seashore through pre-rush Friday traffic
arrive late afternoon
purchase fish for shabbos essen
scramble to set up grill
grill salmon and flounder on the charcoal kettle grill
eat icecream for dessert
go to shul
sleep

wake up from dreams of bbq and regents examinations
set brick on ground
go back inside to get extension cord
run extension cord to outlet
set hotplate, switched on, in big pot, running cord through the bottom
drain hole
plug hotplate in
wonder why hotplate isn't heating
get old electric alarm clock to check status of garage outlet
use alarm clock to check shorting status of extension cord
get different extension cord
realize that the extension cords aren't rated for 15A and something in
the hotplate is detecting the voltage drop and shutting the element off
clean junk away from garage wall underneath outlet in order to
wheel grill underneath outlet
set cinderblock on grill rack
set planter on cinderblock, running powercord through holes cleverly
chipped with a mining pickaxe into cinderblock after discovery that all
of grandma's planter feet are mysteriously vanished
plug hotplate in
cheer when nichrome heats
put hickory chunks in cheap stainless bowl on top of element
oiled rack in bottom pot
place cover bowl
place thermometer blocking hole in coverbowl
allow to heat till smoke rises from charring hickory enough to warm to
210 degrees F
rub roast
recline roast on oiled rack
open periodically to check progress
taste bark forming on roast
make lunch fixings
kibitz with bbq enthusiast guest and patient fiancée
rest on beach
make dinner fixings
check inter temp of roast with instant read thermometer - 120 degrees
wait hour
check inter temp of roast still 120degrees
consult with fiancée (who is not a fan of rareish meat)
wait hour
check inter temp of roast still 120 what's happening?
fire up grill
untwine roast from rib bones
slice into steaks (fine grain structure fully medium rare in doneness,
bark divine
grill on charcoal grill till the unrendered fat renders
serve
savor
surfeit
realize there's beef ribs
grill ribs
slice ribs
fiancée picks at ribs
devours rib
eat rib
realize the rib was better than the roast
recline
take in sea air
walk to mint sorbet and video store
Willy Wonka
sleep

dream of beef ribs

Been awhile, folks. As if there's an audience now - the accumulated linkage surplus has more than been amortised by the year or so of steady disinterest on my part.

I'm getting married, buying a car, buying an apartment, and teaching algebra to one hundred and three New York teens in a Chelsea high school. A depiction of the trivium and quadrivium in magnificient stained-glass panels frames the front entranceway.

My students? More on them later. Because.

There's a poster store up the street, and the E runs door to door. Both of the Strands are an easy sub ride away.

One month. All I can think of is stock and broth.

A correspondent writes:

I've got a bunch of bones and fat in the freezer because I thought I'd try boiling them to make broth. Any tips? One thing I'm wondering about is the ratio of bones to water.

Roast dem bones till they are brown, with the fat rendered out and any remaining adhering tissue is thoroughly roasted (***not*** blackened). We want crusty steak outside texture. Parboil and peel a few plum tomatoes. Save the peels, discard the tomato-seed caviare, chop the nekkid 'maters up. Don't use brainy, mealy 'maters. Roast a mirepoix (chop some onions, carrots, celery, chopped nekkid 'maters, spray on a little spray-fat) till the vegetables are browned and limp. Keep in mind that the vegetables and bones will roast at different rates.

Put dem bones in a deep stock pot with twice as much water as is needed to cover, and raise the temperature slowly until the water is at a slight simmer. Put the tomato peels in the water with the bones. Have a skimmer handy, and a kitchen towel. Over the next hour or so, skim the water constantly - we want to pick up and remove the light floaty proteinaceous particulate, and the tomato peels help us do that. Clean the skimmer between skims. With the towel, wipe down the sides of the pot where light floaty proteinaceous particulate adheres. When skimming seems pointless, add the roasted mirepoix and keep the stock at a mild simmer for six or seven hours. Add a few peppercorns and a couple bay leaves (laurel) if you like.

When everything is bien consommé (you will smell it. boy will you smell it), turn the heat off and degrease with paper towels. Wipe down the sides of the pot where the grease adheres.

Then, slowly, ladle out the stock into containers or ice cube trays (to have real stock cubes handy for cooking, not Herb-Ox atrocities) or serving bowls or whatever, leaving the bones'n'veggies as undisturbed as possible so that bone bits and veggie chunks don't break loose. Discard spent bones and veggies.

Voila. The best broth/stock you'll have had outside a good restaurant.

BTW, if you can get fresh turkey necks and chicken necks (ask your butcher), roasting them for the soup is very nearly ideal. You'll get a deeply flavored, rich broth that is the essence of turkeyness, or of chickendom. If you can't or won't buy necks, use chicken thighs and turkey wings. Beef short-ribs or shanks are perfect for beef-tea, while veal necks and shanks are what for veal stock.

And yes, I've got two pounds of turkey necks, a pound of chicken necks, and a pound of turkey wings in my frigidaire, for when I feel the need for brothy refreshment. (Also, stock cubes.)

And, yes, I'm transiting the old "Plastic Words" postings off the page.

They're from a time gone by.
When intemperate oral froth began a warm, tight feeling 'twixt beater and breast,
An age
When monkeys and pigs by force of anger did fly
And rest
In roosts of plush velour, and seat-back trays bore the burden of free booze
On domestic flights. Orange was a drink,
and Homeland was Heimat rendered.
Now ill-considered outrage makes a mucky sewer ooze,
Into which felonious bombast and civil peace together sink,
Our treasury of wealth and words is plundered.
We use curtains to hide marble tits,
Grecian Formula to camouflage true boobs.
Legalities proliferate, they merely throttle
The confidence of people, to give them fits,
Inspiring courtiers to defend the rule of rubes,
Practised at pouring patent medicine from an amber bottle.
I took refuge in a Gotham classroom
To hammer my anger into temperence

The question of curriculum: as I see it, I am a cook, and my job is to prepare a feast from which none go home hungry out of either revulsion, boredom, or want.

So, I punch things up. I''m turning my classroom into a college seminar. Writing and reading and etymology, oh my.