OK, gentleman. You all (or is it all y'all?) wanted this blog. But there's a serious deficiency of contributions from all but Bill and myself.
So PLEASE - feel free to jump on in!
It was suggested we book another Dead Cow Night. I couldn't agree more. I thought we might get a review of Front Street Smokehouse and Saloon up here, but we haven't gotten to that yet. But let's figure our next rendezvous. How about the place that Gerard suggested...RUB hut? In Manville? They were down in Yardley, too. (And they whipped us like a dead mule, like almost everyone else did.)
By the way...are we a cult? One must wonder. Do we qualify? Check out this site... http://www.cultdeadcow.com/
(Wikipedia says they're a hacker.)
So - let's figure a date, before our next contest. Please - do chip in, here.
Bob
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
A Hot Day in Yardley
Dateline: South Plainfield....air conditioned
Not to be redundant, but it was hot. Just before dawn on Sunday, I looked down at the dusty road beside our site, and the rocks were sweating. That's a bad sign.
I knew that once the sun got fully above the horizon, and daylight hit us, we'd feel like lettuce under a heat lamp. I knew it would be important to keep our bodily fluids replentished. I realized that though we had plenty of water and ice, I had grossly underestimated the amount of bourbon I would need this hot, hot morning. If I managed my supply carefully, I might make it to noon, but after that, it was going to get..dusty. I looked at my bourbon and water sweating in my glass, and realized that this competition was really getting deadly serious.
It was time to get out the long knives. As usual, during prep and turn-in, we worked like crack addled squirrels searching for nutts in a mid winter jicker. Wirlwinds of motion, followed by surgical precision, the presentations were ballets. From a distance, I imagine activity surrounding the assemblage of the entries resembles the graceful, and strange beauty of a tornado chewing threw a forrest when view from afar, when viewed from afar. Maybe not. Up close, kinda like it to...lot's of 'Holy S*it!' moments. I realize that maybe I'd better slow up on the bourbon, or I may not make it to noon.
Despite our presentations being art, and our Chicken, Ribs, Brisket, and Pork being fantastic, all our scores pretty much sucked. The brisket and chicken were 35th. The ribs and pulled pork were worse. We were all disappointed. I know Brother Bob wasn't happy with the way the Brisket cooked, but I was sure happy with how it turned out. I have to say it again....nobody rubs a brisket quite like Bob. Bob is a Brisket rubber par excellance! I would encourage everyone to ask Bob to rub their brisked for them.
The Chicken was just smoked and covered with sauce, so I was surprised that it did so well. Strange vistiors from another world must have abducted our ribs and replaced them with ribs taken from an abductee because it's just not possible for the ribs we turned in to have placed 47 out of 57 entries. Bob and Landi suggested that perhaps the judges just didn't appreciate Memphis Dry Rubbed Ribs. Seriously, how likely is that?
The Pulled pork wasn't DAL (Dead Ass Last), but when you're in the 50's, you don't have anything to brag about.
I should mention that our Mississippi crew, Casual Smoker, did great in deserts, 3rd in Chicken and 1st for brisket. The big daddy of the team is actually from Kansas City, but obviously has family roots in Mississippi.
Well. It's Monday morning. Work becons. More updates with pictures later.
Not to be redundant, but it was hot. Just before dawn on Sunday, I looked down at the dusty road beside our site, and the rocks were sweating. That's a bad sign.
I knew that once the sun got fully above the horizon, and daylight hit us, we'd feel like lettuce under a heat lamp. I knew it would be important to keep our bodily fluids replentished. I realized that though we had plenty of water and ice, I had grossly underestimated the amount of bourbon I would need this hot, hot morning. If I managed my supply carefully, I might make it to noon, but after that, it was going to get..dusty. I looked at my bourbon and water sweating in my glass, and realized that this competition was really getting deadly serious.
It was time to get out the long knives. As usual, during prep and turn-in, we worked like crack addled squirrels searching for nutts in a mid winter jicker. Wirlwinds of motion, followed by surgical precision, the presentations were ballets. From a distance, I imagine activity surrounding the assemblage of the entries resembles the graceful, and strange beauty of a tornado chewing threw a forrest when view from afar, when viewed from afar. Maybe not. Up close, kinda like it to...lot's of 'Holy S*it!' moments. I realize that maybe I'd better slow up on the bourbon, or I may not make it to noon.
Despite our presentations being art, and our Chicken, Ribs, Brisket, and Pork being fantastic, all our scores pretty much sucked. The brisket and chicken were 35th. The ribs and pulled pork were worse. We were all disappointed. I know Brother Bob wasn't happy with the way the Brisket cooked, but I was sure happy with how it turned out. I have to say it again....nobody rubs a brisket quite like Bob. Bob is a Brisket rubber par excellance! I would encourage everyone to ask Bob to rub their brisked for them.
The Chicken was just smoked and covered with sauce, so I was surprised that it did so well. Strange vistiors from another world must have abducted our ribs and replaced them with ribs taken from an abductee because it's just not possible for the ribs we turned in to have placed 47 out of 57 entries. Bob and Landi suggested that perhaps the judges just didn't appreciate Memphis Dry Rubbed Ribs. Seriously, how likely is that?
The Pulled pork wasn't DAL (Dead Ass Last), but when you're in the 50's, you don't have anything to brag about.
I should mention that our Mississippi crew, Casual Smoker, did great in deserts, 3rd in Chicken and 1st for brisket. The big daddy of the team is actually from Kansas City, but obviously has family roots in Mississippi.
Well. It's Monday morning. Work becons. More updates with pictures later.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Morning has broken...
Dateline: Yardley, Pa.
Dawn has greeted the 57 barbeque teams gathered in the pasture like a teenage mugger with a zip gun. It's getting hot. It's going to get uncomfortable....and because we are near the honey cart, it's going to smell....sometimes bad. Very bad.
The good news is that the night went well. I have roughly half my whisky left. Bob is well, and appears to still be breathing. A good sign. The ice is holding up well. The Missippians next door survived the night. The Senator is Missing in Action. Landi, Catfish and the boys are enroute.
I feel great. Yesterday, I flushed 12 quarts of toxins from my body. They appear to have killed the grass where I was standing. Now, it's time to replace them. We had a great breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, and potatoes. I'm going to have a bloodymary soon.
The Brisket is looking good. Bob is concerned that it may have cooked to quickly. I'm not worried. It looks world class. The Shoulders are getting happy. Ribs are on, and looking good. The yard bird is doing it's thing.
Soon, the heat and humidity will drive many of the competitors mad. I am prepared. Because I'm the only Utilikilted competitor, I have a tremendous advantage. It may turn out that, due to the ungodly heat and the air-conditioned utili-comfort, I may be the sanest person at the contest.
That's a sad state of affairs.
Now, on to bloodymarys!
Dawn has greeted the 57 barbeque teams gathered in the pasture like a teenage mugger with a zip gun. It's getting hot. It's going to get uncomfortable....and because we are near the honey cart, it's going to smell....sometimes bad. Very bad.
The good news is that the night went well. I have roughly half my whisky left. Bob is well, and appears to still be breathing. A good sign. The ice is holding up well. The Missippians next door survived the night. The Senator is Missing in Action. Landi, Catfish and the boys are enroute.
I feel great. Yesterday, I flushed 12 quarts of toxins from my body. They appear to have killed the grass where I was standing. Now, it's time to replace them. We had a great breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, and potatoes. I'm going to have a bloodymary soon.
The Brisket is looking good. Bob is concerned that it may have cooked to quickly. I'm not worried. It looks world class. The Shoulders are getting happy. Ribs are on, and looking good. The yard bird is doing it's thing.
Soon, the heat and humidity will drive many of the competitors mad. I am prepared. Because I'm the only Utilikilted competitor, I have a tremendous advantage. It may turn out that, due to the ungodly heat and the air-conditioned utili-comfort, I may be the sanest person at the contest.
That's a sad state of affairs.
Now, on to bloodymarys!
Saturday, June 7, 2008
It's hot
Dateline: Yardley, Pa.
It was hot today. It was more than hot. It was sweltering. So, naturally building smokey fires in steel barbeque rigs just added to the...the ...joy. Oh, yeah, did I mention that it was humid? Yep. Humid too. It was so hot the the wax melted on the top of my Maker's Mark bottle, and so humid the label slid off.
It's 10:20pm. It's still hot. It's 84 degrees. and humid. I promised Landi that I would not get drunk tonight, so I'm mixing my bourbon with water. I only have one fifth to make it all night, so I' rationing it. I just bought 40 more pounds of ice, so I think I'll make it.
We have had the good fortune to have some fellow Missippians set up next to us. I heard them talking when they first got here, and it was so nice to hear someone speak without an accent. Turns out, they have one kid at Ole Miss, and anther who dropped out of Ole Miss to be a professional poker player.
So, I should mention at this point, while everyone else was sweating and suffering in the oppressive heat, Bob and I were in AirConditioned comfrort. When it is 98 degress and humid, it's so hot that it's not healthy. However, because Brother Bob and I were in Utilikilted comfort, we sweated, but did not wilt....and we were cool.
So, it's hotter than a three petered skeeter, and we're sitting out all night around the fires to make sure that we produce only the finest barbeque. I've probably sweated out enough toxins and poisons to live forever.
Brisket and shoulders started tonight. We'll listen to Buffet, Jerry Jeff and others, and hang through the night. Update to follow in the morning....
It was hot today. It was more than hot. It was sweltering. So, naturally building smokey fires in steel barbeque rigs just added to the...the ...joy. Oh, yeah, did I mention that it was humid? Yep. Humid too. It was so hot the the wax melted on the top of my Maker's Mark bottle, and so humid the label slid off.
It's 10:20pm. It's still hot. It's 84 degrees. and humid. I promised Landi that I would not get drunk tonight, so I'm mixing my bourbon with water. I only have one fifth to make it all night, so I' rationing it. I just bought 40 more pounds of ice, so I think I'll make it.
We have had the good fortune to have some fellow Missippians set up next to us. I heard them talking when they first got here, and it was so nice to hear someone speak without an accent. Turns out, they have one kid at Ole Miss, and anther who dropped out of Ole Miss to be a professional poker player.
So, I should mention at this point, while everyone else was sweating and suffering in the oppressive heat, Bob and I were in AirConditioned comfrort. When it is 98 degress and humid, it's so hot that it's not healthy. However, because Brother Bob and I were in Utilikilted comfort, we sweated, but did not wilt....and we were cool.
So, it's hotter than a three petered skeeter, and we're sitting out all night around the fires to make sure that we produce only the finest barbeque. I've probably sweated out enough toxins and poisons to live forever.
Brisket and shoulders started tonight. We'll listen to Buffet, Jerry Jeff and others, and hang through the night. Update to follow in the morning....
Friday, June 6, 2008
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Worth waiting for...
We sat. Like Pavlov's dog waiting for the bell to ring, we sat. Salivating every time we heard a car....Damn! Waiting. Waiting for brisket. Like Christmas night, time crawled.
Finally, a knock at the door! Brisket? Hell no. A neighbor needing a chainsaw.
A door! I heard a car door!
It was here!....and Bob and Cindy were, too. It was good to see Bob, and Cindy. Haven't seen Cindy since Eli Super-Manning and the Boys celebrated winning the SuperBowl. Eli can talk the talk and walk the walk, yall.
Smiling, Bob walked in carrying a cooler containg something as precious, as fragile and as rare as a newly harvested donor liver. He had brisket.
As if preparing for a communion, Bob carefully lifted the brisket out of the cooler. It had been resting for 3 hours. Almost as if unwrapping a Christmas gift, he removed the foil. An aroma took over the room. The Pavlovian reflex kicked into high gear.
Brother Bob took the big knife, and slice a thin piece of meet from the brisket. With the point of the knife, he pushed it across the cutting board to me. I paused. It looked good. It smelled good. I took the piece of thin brisket in my hand. I bit it.
Suddenly the clouds parted! The sun was shining! Birds were singing!
It was that good.
Finally, a knock at the door! Brisket? Hell no. A neighbor needing a chainsaw.
A door! I heard a car door!
It was here!....and Bob and Cindy were, too. It was good to see Bob, and Cindy. Haven't seen Cindy since Eli Super-Manning and the Boys celebrated winning the SuperBowl. Eli can talk the talk and walk the walk, yall.
Smiling, Bob walked in carrying a cooler containg something as precious, as fragile and as rare as a newly harvested donor liver. He had brisket.
As if preparing for a communion, Bob carefully lifted the brisket out of the cooler. It had been resting for 3 hours. Almost as if unwrapping a Christmas gift, he removed the foil. An aroma took over the room. The Pavlovian reflex kicked into high gear.
Brother Bob took the big knife, and slice a thin piece of meet from the brisket. With the point of the knife, he pushed it across the cutting board to me. I paused. It looked good. It smelled good. I took the piece of thin brisket in my hand. I bit it.
Suddenly the clouds parted! The sun was shining! Birds were singing!
It was that good.
The Night Before Brisket
Twas the night before brisket,
And all through the night
I couldn't close my eyes
Without seeing the sight...
A big green egg
puttting off smoke
Bob smiling real big,
and telling a joke.
The aroma
it floated so soft in the air
And I ran low on bourbon
But I didn't care.
Time trickeled slowly
off of the clock
And Bob held his temprature
Steady as a rock.
All throught the night,
the brisket, it cooked
Everyone wondered,
But nobody looked.
Oh damn!,
I said when I woke with a start
I looked outside,
And still it was dark.
Me and my dog,
We both sniffed the air
Buck pee'd on my leg
But I didn't care.
On the midnight breeze
of the last day of May
I found the aroma
of a great brisket day.
And all through the night
I couldn't close my eyes
Without seeing the sight...
A big green egg
puttting off smoke
Bob smiling real big,
and telling a joke.
The aroma
it floated so soft in the air
And I ran low on bourbon
But I didn't care.
Time trickeled slowly
off of the clock
And Bob held his temprature
Steady as a rock.
All throught the night,
the brisket, it cooked
Everyone wondered,
But nobody looked.
Oh damn!,
I said when I woke with a start
I looked outside,
And still it was dark.
Me and my dog,
We both sniffed the air
Buck pee'd on my leg
But I didn't care.
On the midnight breeze
of the last day of May
I found the aroma
of a great brisket day.
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