Well, last night's attempt at smoking a brisket was fraught with error. I apparently need to go down to the supermarket and shanghai some tow-headed boy scout in hopes that he can impart to me the rudiments of fire (or shall I offer a sacrifice to Prometheus?)
The smoker apparently is allied with the Bush administration in its moral absolutism. Last night, it knew only two temperatures: 7000 degrees or ice cold. My inexperience with the smoker and my experience with Tito's Vodka surely weren't helping.
I chunked a couple of logs on before I logged off for the evening about 3:30 or so. I checked it at 9am and it was stone cold, so all my internal temp measurements were thrown into a giant shitspin. I've had it going again all day and I'm still not at my desired internal temp.
There are silver linings, however. The smoker did a bang-up job of heating up some hot-links. Of course the microwave could have knocked this out in about 45 seconds, but it would be lacking the crispy exterior. And I've got a rack of ribs on, for which everything has gone very well and look and smell tasty.
I've yet to taste any of the food yet, so look forward to episode III.
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