It's awfully late to start drinking.

The sun isn't up yet, and that is one of the signs that the end of the summer has indeed arrived. There's less humidity, even on rainy days, and just a touch of coolness in the air. In about an hour, I'll start the fire to begin smoking 100 lbs of pork shoulders for a fund raiser Monday (9/14) at KC's Korner in South Plainfield. Grace, Walter and Co. raise money every year for a cancer hospice, and this year, they asked the Memphis Barbeque Company to do some barbeque.

We're doing ribs, chicken, pulled pork, cajun greenbeans, and barbequed beans. Dinner serves sometime late Monday afternoon. The event was originally planned for 50 golfers, as it is a golf outing, but it has now swollen to 120 or more. We'll have the smoker, the tent and all the regualr crap set up for the event. I'll start singing country music probably around noon.

I realize that noon is awfully late to start drinking, so cocktails may begin a bit earlier.

Fang Skull

This isn't about barbeque. It's about a kid.

At a height of about 5 feet, a kid has a different perspective on a lot of things. They know every dog in the neighborhood, and speak of the dog as if he were a friend. Property lines have little meaning. Nary a thought is given to cutting through backyards, side yards, and front yards on their way to the 'woods' or a friends house. They may borrow things, but they will never steal, and they will give you all they have for the asking. They haven't a clue about the value of a dollar, but they can tell you all about lucky rocks. At once, they treat their friends like dogs, and dogs like brothers. They are generous beyond good sense to friend and stranger alike, and loyal to the end even in the face greivous punishment. I think they pick that up from the dogs. They ride bicycles and skateboards with the causal elegance of a soaring hawk, crash them like flaming train wrecks, and rise again bleeding,but smiling and laughing. They find more joy in a single jelly bean than we find in Christmas, and, we try to teach these kids to be adults.

It seems to me, that we ought to consider becoming more like kids.

On Father's day, my wife took my son to the worlds greatest store (Spenser's), and bought me a gift I will never, ever forget. Having blown my knee out last September, and despit having it surgically repaired, it still hurts and I limp a little. If you limp, you ought to have a cool cane. A cane much cooler than any that Dr. House might posses.If you are a 12 year old boy, there is nothing better you can give your limping dad than a black cane that is topped with a skull with fangs.

If you are a limping dad, there is nothing better your son can give you than the look on his face when he sees you smile after opening a box containing the world's greatest cane.

It doesn't get any better than that.

Weekend Update

Having survived the weekend monsoon intact, we have determined that we have not suffered enough. Dixie Dog has recovered from sitting in water for 12 hours. Landi is in fine form. I'm still fat.

KC's Korner, the finest dive in South Plainfield, has asked us to barbeque ribs for their third annual Weekend of the Bands. They have 30 bands scheduled over two days. We'll be doing ribs both days, and they've got a guy doing clams.

This should be a lot of fun. The crowd that hangs out at this place is just fantastic. It's like Cheer's meets Archie Bunker on Friends in Mayberry. Everyone who works there super.

So, if you're looking for fun, food and music on Saturday (6/27) or Sunday (6/28) stop by KC's Korner in South Plainfield. We'll have the smoker setup and cooking from 8:00AM until we're done.

We're a Chicken Outfit

Though the monsoon lasted most of the day, we endevored to persevere. Our bourbon stocks were adequate thanks to Pat. Ice was plentiful. We had wine, and beer...and the tent of a thousand pieces served us well. Hillsborough is aways fun because it's pretty much the same competitors as always. Big Mark was there, as was the RUB Hut boys, the Ribs Within and the Keansburg Firehouse and Moose's Mayem.

The ribs and chicken went on the smoker at roughly 9:00. It was still dry then. We had sovled rubic's tent puzzle and finally started the real work. Only after the ribs and chicken went on the smoker did the skys open up. It was a steady rain. A soaker of a rain....which, as you can imagine, played hell with the temperature of the smoker. On one end 200 degrees...on the end that sticks out into the rain, 100. Can you guess which end we cooked on?

We were stymied on the Chef's Choice. I forgot about it and didn't bring anything for it. Thankfully, when Pat made the liquor run, she was able to get some shrimp. Salvation!

Chicken turn in was at 3:00. No problem. We pulled our chicken, and foiled it at about 1:00. At 2:30, we sauced it, and put it in to carmalize a little. We made the 3:00 turn in just fine.

Rib turn in was at 3:30. No problem. We had three slabs that were nothing less that works of art. A test cut revealed that they were at perfection. It was clearly the consensus that we had produced the perfect rib. We delivered our entry of six hollywood cut ribs at 3:00.

The Chefs' Choice turn in was at 4:00. The shrimp are still frozen? Oh shit. We spread the shrimp on a baking pan and shoved them in the smoker. 5 minutes later they were thawed enough to peel. Raw? Of course they were raw. You can't cook 'cooked' shrimp. Sprinkled with bbq seasonings, cajun seasoning, or bbq sauce, they went back into the smoker. Ten minutes later, they are still raw. Oh shit. We sat the pan on top of the firebox to see if that would cook them. Five minutes later, oh shit. Finally, we opened the firebox, spread the coals flat, and sat the baking pan. At 3:59, we had nine shrimp done, in the box and delivered.

Awards were at 5:00. They were held in the fire house because the sunshine was was again pouring. It was a cozy group. Everyone cheered for everyone else. We thought we had a good chance because we were pleased with everything we delivered. Of course, that is usually the case. In the end, we won Second Place for Yardbird (that's chicken to you yankees), and Seventh Place for Ribs, Sixth Place for Chef's Choice. We were Third Overall.

Of course, that's not the end of the story. Less than one mile from home, either the bearings or the brakes on the van's left front wheel apparently exploded. We were able to limp home at 5 mph and get the smoker put away....and that's the end of that story.

Sunshine Reigns in Hillsborough

Dateline: Neptune

Eleven intrepid barbequers are high and dry in the parking lot of the Woods Road Fire House. Four kegs of beer sits on ice in the fire house. We managed to get our Rubic's Tent erected before the sunshine began to fall.

Got to go.

The March of the Kilted Madmen

On Saturday, June 20th, a day that will live in infamy, the Central Jersey Firemen's Cook-off will be held at the Fire House in Hillsborough. All members of the the Memphis Barbque Company and The Dead Cow Society will remember that this is a major fun event. It will start with Meat Inspection at about 7:00AM, and end sometime around 4:00pm. In between those hours, there will be music and a lot of fun.

We've done well here in the past, taking 3rd for ribs, and second for chicken....or vice versa.

So, sober up and try to make it to the event. If the past is any guide, it will be a lot of fun.

The Pig Flu

Though some of us may be late, I believe that it is of the utmost importance that the Dead Cow Society gather immediately to discuss the latest assault on our carnivours activity. Not too many years ago, you will remember, lying bastards were warning us about 'Mad Cow' disease. What they failed to tell us was that they were actually trying to warn the world about one of my xwives. Now we are being bombarded with information about something called 'the Pig Flu'. Again, we are being mislead.

The whole uproar is the result of an argument about baseball in Mexico City brothel.

My brother was there. What he said happened was that the piano player, apparently an older gentleman with a touch of Atlizhimers, was talking baseball with some visiting politicians, and the piano player said that pigs would fly when Boston won the Series.

At this point, a Boston fan who was employed at the brothel, blew beer our her nose, and screamed at the piano player "They've won twice in the last 5 years, you moron!", everyone laughted. The piano player, being somewhat hard of hearing, missed what was said and asked the bar tender what was going on..and the bartender say...'nothing, but I think the pig flew"

So, thursday, 6:30 at the Outback on 22. Help us help ourselves to dead cow and liquor.

oh..yeah..Boston sucks.