First thing off the bat, lemme just say how impressed I am with Memphis. Really. I had some assumptions about the home of Elvis driving down here and let me just say how the city has exceeded them mightily. This is a city trying very hard to be its best, a cross of Charlotte, North Carolina and New Orleans. And that, friends, isn't bad at all.
So what was Day One like? Hundreds of competitors from across the nation and some, around the world. I got to meet Britain's newest Barbeque Champ, Dylan Rogers and got to speak to him for few moments (congratulations again, Dylan, I'm sure it's well deserved). Saw literally over 100 competitors' booths, some two and three stories high, theme decorated and hard core dedicated. And saw people prepping their meat in everything from a second-hand Weber cooker to a $100K smoker.
I even got to take in a free judging seminar and here are the keys they told us:
1. Cook it low and slow. Rule #1. 225° on the heat for 4-6 hours.
2. Smoke the meat for two hours max. After that you're not doing the meat any good. The pores seal shut and you can dry the meat out.
3. No lighter fluid ever. If a judge tastes lighter fluid, there's no way you'll score well.
4. Charcoal is king. And champs know where to get specialized charcoal with hardwoods injected into them.
5. Indirect heat is a must. Hardwoods for flavor. Charcoal to keep the heat going.
6. The best meat generally comes from meat specialists, but if you know what you're looking for, Costco and Sam's club has good meat. If...you know what you're looking for.
7. Make sure the meat is done. Honestly. They said they run into more entries than you can imagine where the meat isn't even done. Smoke it for two hours max, slow cook it for 4-6 more. That's a good general rule of thumb for making some excellent barbecue whether it's for the world championship or trying to one-up your brother in law at home
Now, as far as ribs go, they told us the meat should pull off the bone, but not come completely off. That's a sign it's been overcooked. When looking at meat, they look at it across the whole slab (generally, the "Ten Ribs") looking for consistency in color, texture, that no bones are poking out (the side is ok...the ends, that's a "no, no") and when they pull up the slab, that the slab stays together. Tricky, huh? Tender, but not too tender. Done, but not too done.
They also look for the telltale smoke ring, that pink ring that proves it's been well smoked and it worthy of consideration to be "World Championship Caliber". They also talked about the point system (if you score lower than a 9, you'd better go back to the drawing board), cuts of meat, different classes, different sauces and how anyone, with some time and some expert instruction, can become a qualified barbeque judge worthy of determining the "World's Best".
But...they did warn. Once you know what real barbeque tastes like, chances are the corner barbeque joint just won't cut it anymore. Hey, I'm just warning you ahead of time.
Hello to all my new friends from Kansas City, Minnesota, Memphis and of course, Texas. Ya'll at Cowboy's (check out cowboysbbq.com) make a killer ribless barbecue sandwich. Hats off to you all in Fort Worth.
Tomorrow, it's an early wake up call. Will be helping out the Cincy team prep for ribs competition. And the work starts at 4:30 am – sharp! Be a short night on Beale Street tonight, kids.
Showing posts with label Barbecue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Barbecue. Show all posts
Friday, May 16, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
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!
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!
Sunday, March 2, 2008
What's "The Rub"?
So I've been reading a lot over the past week about "rubs", you know the delicious coating that goes on a piece of meat before it sets sail on that beautiful open sea known as "the grill". The thing that turns a $6.99 steak into a $12.99 entree? Now, rubs are a little new to me, I've never made one, so I wanted to do a lot of research before posting another blog.
What a bad idea that was.
Because, like all good things in life, when you let it come to you, it's always better. Here's what I mean: I was in a used bookstore and came across a copy of Paul Kirk's Championship Barbecue Sauces book. Now, for those of you who aren't familiar with Mr. Kirk's expertise in the land of all things meaty and delicious, he's won over 400 barbecue awards, including world championships and is nicknamed "The Baron of Barbecue" by those who hold barbecue most dear. You sir, Mr. Kirk, have my attention.
So I took a Sunday afternoon and read what he had to say. Then I put his words into action.
Mr. Kirk does an extraordinary job letting everyone know that 1) He knows all the rules to making great rubs, and 2) Rules were made to be broken. He lists 30+ some odd ingredients that go into making a great rub (by the way, you should never really "rub" the rub onto the meat...it blocks up the pores and makes pockets of spice instead of creating a nice outer "skin" to both flavor the meat and seal in the juices. So just sprinkle it on and everyone will be the better for it, ok?). Kind of a misnomer in the old name department, huh? Oh well.
One thing that a good rub and, of course, time can do is to relax the meat a bit and enhance the natural flavors and attributes. And that's what we're after. Never want to mask or cover up the taste, but enhance it and help the good qualities take the stage.
Here's the rub recipe I used from Mr. Kirk's book. It's not too complicated but oh my, the taste, it was a symphony of complex flavors, textures and smells that took a simple flank steak to culinary territory it never dreamed possible.
Here's the mix I used:
1 cup sugar
1 cup garlic salt
1/2 cup paprika
3 tablespoons black pepper
2 tablespoons chipotle chili powder
1 tablespoon cumin (the greatest spice in all the world)
1 teaspoon ginger (not a ginger fan myself, but this worked out really well)
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon ground coriander
Ok, so why not just use one of the pre-made meat rubs? You can...sure. But you spend twice as much than if you'd made it yourself and you don't have any idea what's in it. Because those packets only list a "blend of spices" and never give you a clue of how much specifically. And, c'mon, if the in-laws are coming over, it's always better to say something quippy like, "Well of course, the sugar/garlic mixture work together to both carmelize the meat while enhancing it's natural flavor."
And that....that's...when you wow them by talking about the au jous that's left behind.
Au jous? There's au jous left behind? Really?
Ah yes friends. Because I grilled mine in the oven ("The Baron" said it was ok to do that, so I'm in the clear) in a cast iron ribbed skillet and the natural juices left an extraordinary au jous that you can leave for dipping, or...OR...as an excellent base for a gravy. Your choice. And either way, trust me, you are a winner.
So next time you want to add something special to any beef, pork or chicken entree, try using a rub. Just remember to coat it thoroughly, coat it completely and use low heat to not "flash" cook it. Use the base rub listed above to start but feel free to deviate, add to and subtract from it as you like.
And lemme know how it works out for you. I'm sure Mr. Kirk will be very pleased to know you're continuing his tradition.
What a bad idea that was.
Because, like all good things in life, when you let it come to you, it's always better. Here's what I mean: I was in a used bookstore and came across a copy of Paul Kirk's Championship Barbecue Sauces book. Now, for those of you who aren't familiar with Mr. Kirk's expertise in the land of all things meaty and delicious, he's won over 400 barbecue awards, including world championships and is nicknamed "The Baron of Barbecue" by those who hold barbecue most dear. You sir, Mr. Kirk, have my attention.
So I took a Sunday afternoon and read what he had to say. Then I put his words into action.
Mr. Kirk does an extraordinary job letting everyone know that 1) He knows all the rules to making great rubs, and 2) Rules were made to be broken. He lists 30+ some odd ingredients that go into making a great rub (by the way, you should never really "rub" the rub onto the meat...it blocks up the pores and makes pockets of spice instead of creating a nice outer "skin" to both flavor the meat and seal in the juices. So just sprinkle it on and everyone will be the better for it, ok?). Kind of a misnomer in the old name department, huh? Oh well.
One thing that a good rub and, of course, time can do is to relax the meat a bit and enhance the natural flavors and attributes. And that's what we're after. Never want to mask or cover up the taste, but enhance it and help the good qualities take the stage.
Here's the rub recipe I used from Mr. Kirk's book. It's not too complicated but oh my, the taste, it was a symphony of complex flavors, textures and smells that took a simple flank steak to culinary territory it never dreamed possible.
Here's the mix I used:
1 cup sugar
1 cup garlic salt
1/2 cup paprika
3 tablespoons black pepper
2 tablespoons chipotle chili powder
1 tablespoon cumin (the greatest spice in all the world)
1 teaspoon ginger (not a ginger fan myself, but this worked out really well)
1 teaspoon onion powder
1 teaspoon ground coriander
Ok, so why not just use one of the pre-made meat rubs? You can...sure. But you spend twice as much than if you'd made it yourself and you don't have any idea what's in it. Because those packets only list a "blend of spices" and never give you a clue of how much specifically. And, c'mon, if the in-laws are coming over, it's always better to say something quippy like, "Well of course, the sugar/garlic mixture work together to both carmelize the meat while enhancing it's natural flavor."
And that....that's...when you wow them by talking about the au jous that's left behind.
Au jous? There's au jous left behind? Really?
Ah yes friends. Because I grilled mine in the oven ("The Baron" said it was ok to do that, so I'm in the clear) in a cast iron ribbed skillet and the natural juices left an extraordinary au jous that you can leave for dipping, or...OR...as an excellent base for a gravy. Your choice. And either way, trust me, you are a winner.
So next time you want to add something special to any beef, pork or chicken entree, try using a rub. Just remember to coat it thoroughly, coat it completely and use low heat to not "flash" cook it. Use the base rub listed above to start but feel free to deviate, add to and subtract from it as you like.
And lemme know how it works out for you. I'm sure Mr. Kirk will be very pleased to know you're continuing his tradition.
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