For Smokers and Non-Smokers Alike

Ms. Lauerstein, this one's for you.

As a hobbiest cook, one of my aspirations is to "someday" make a brisket. You know, really make a brisket. Get up at 6 am, open the fridge to find a 7 lb. brisket imbibing in a magical marinade tenderly poured upon it the night before, then coating said brisket with a signature rub that would make "The Colonel's Secret Blend" of herbs and spices seem as ordinary as oatmeal. Triumphantly, I'd place our bountiful beef slab onto a professional outdoor smoker where this marbled maven would bask in the sensuous, smoky song of finely cured hickory, mesquite or pecan. For 12 pain-staking hours the smoky goodness would orchestrate a symphony of smell and flavor, piquing with a siren's song of barbecue bliss.

But that ain't happenin' quite yet.

'Cause I don't have a smoker, I have a small oven.

And I don't have a wood pile, I have a gas line.

Heck, I don't even have a basting pan. I have a 14" Pyrex dish.

*Crap.*

About the only thing I have is the brisket. A marinade recipe. A barbecue rub. And the want to turn "someday" into "today". Well, hold on, maybe this can work after all. So lemme walk you through how I made an oven brisket in hopes it'll inspire you to try to make your own brisket as well – smoker or not. Ok, let's assume you've got a brisket. Hopefully, it's around 5-6 pounds and has some nice marbling action going on.

Oh, wait...historical side note...back in the day when photos where black and white and people used to say everything was "just swell", brisket was dirt cheap, sometimes even thrown away because it was considered inedible. That's why only poor people used it. And these paupers, being resourceful and hungry, learned what we all know now – cook it low and slow. They soaked it and smoked it until the tough yielded tender and the fat fostered flavor (they also barbecued raccoon and possum too, so let's not hand them a Nobel prize just yet.) So, critters aside, we're going to take their lead to make our own oven brisket.

Ok...back to present day...take your packaged brisket and open the package over your sink. Over your sink. Not on the cutting board. Over the sink. There will be some liquid left over (it'll be r-e-d liquid) and it's better to have the liquid go down the sink rather than down your prep surface. Or your floor. Or your pants. And wash out the bag before putting it in the trash too. Nothing says, "Come 'n get it!" to neighborhood strays like a meat bag with leftover liquid.

Ok, brisket out of bag. Check. Baking pan big enough to fit it in. Check. Ok, here comes the fun part, the marinade. You can use a pre-prepped marinade off the shelf or you can make your own. Here's the one I used and it worked really well. Feel free to add or subtract whatever you like:

• 1 cup barbecue sauce (your own or off-the shelf)
• 1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
• 1/4 cup liquid smoke (hickory, apple, natural...all great)
• 1 tablespoon garlic powder
• 2 teaspoons celery salt
• 2 teaspoons lemon pepper
• 1 teaspoon Southwestern salt (I use Pampered Chef)
• 1 cup rough chopped onion
• 1/2 cup cheap whiskey (cheap stuff goes on meat, good stuff goes in your glass)

Another side note – when you chop up an onion and don't want that onion smell to linger on your hands, try rubbing your hands on a chrome surface like your sink faucet. Not sure how or why, but it works.

Now, pour enough of the marinade to coat the bottom of the pan into, well, the pan. Then, with the fat side of the brisket up...fat side up...place the brisket gently into the pan. Jostle it in the pan a little to help it settle in. Then pour the rest of the marinade onto the brisket. Now, set the marinaded brisket inside your fridge for as few as two hours or as long as overnight. You may want to cover it to make sure it doesn't pick up any "fridge funk".

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. *Ding*. We're done marinading.

Ok, now for the rub. Again, off-the-shelf is fine. From-the-heart is better, but whatever rub you use pour it very liberally and coat the top of the brisket until you spy no signs of meat underneath. Just a dry, crusty shell...kind of like Larry King (sorry). Since every oven is different, plus with different climates and elevations, this is only a suggestion and not a hard and fast rule – per 1 pound of meat, it's 1 hour and 15 minutes at 250°. BE CAREFUL to make sure the finished internal temperature of the brisket is around 170°. A little more internal heat is extra insurance again food nasties, but it can also lead to more dry meat as well. We're after safe and succulent.

And now...sit and wait.

And wait. And wait. And, hey, isn't the kitchen starting to smell good? And wait. And wait. And *bing* it's 6 and a half hours (or so) later and you've got something that resembles a giant lump of coal bathing in an au jous sauce that's nothing short of divine. And after your long wait, you can't wait to get out your best Ginsu knife and cut off a slice.

But you can't.

No, not yet. 'Cause the brisket needs to rest. For half an hour. Besides, at an internal heat of 180° or so, you'll burn your mouth.

So settle down, play a speed round of Yatzee with your kids and let the brisket settle. Then, after a half hour or so, get all Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving feast with it and carve your culinary accomplishment to the gasp and awe of all who are near. And sure, feel free to take some over to your neighbor and show them how great it is living next to you. You may never have to shovel your driveway again.

Put along some sides of baked beans, cole slaw or sweet potato fries with the whole deal, sip some fresh iced tea and, well, that's some sweet, sweet lovin' right there, kids. Plus, we're one step closer to "someday".

Enjoy!