The Barbecue

I just came out of a barbecue coma to write this post.

About a month ago, Charity bought a pork butt, and I’m just now getting around to smoking the blessed thing.

Oh, hallelujah.

You’ll have to forgive me. I’m doing a holy-roller shout-down between my bouts with the coma.

Thank you, Jesus.

Today was my first time being successful at the pork butt smoke. I’ve smoked them twice before, and they were good. But today, it turned out amazing.

Or maybe I’ve forgotten how good a smoked pork butt was. And by the way, the pork butt isn’t the hind end of a pig. It’s the shoulder. Ham is from the back end of a pig, just so we’re clear.

I injected a mixture of apple juice, red wine vinegar, garlic powder, and some rub into this slab of meat. I patted it down with the rub and let it sit while the charcoal and wood perked in the smoker.

Once it was ready, I laid that beautiful sustenance upon the searing hot rack in the smoker.

Bada-bing, bada-boom, and several hours later, out came the gorgeous chunk of pork. I wrapped it in tinfoil and let it sit in its juices for a spell longer while the internal temperature reached two-hundred-and-two degrees Fahrenheit.

After it rested, we pulled that sucker apart and went to town. And, buddy, does it ever taste some kind of good!

Glory be!

Some people don’t like barbecue. And that’s tragic. At some point, they probably had a piece of meat that tasted like it was smoked with a carton of Marlboros. May God forgive whoever did that to a precious morsel of meat.

It gives some people heartburn. And my heart goes out to those people.

There is so much I could write about barbecue. But I feel the coma about to come back on me.

Oh, praise the Lord.

I wish y’all could have made it out here today. Maybe next time.

to those who pack down a pile of pulled pork,
– Caleb