And thus it begins..

…not with a whimper but with a bang. Or rather a thud, as my brand spanking new smoker was unceremoniously dumped on my front porch by the UPS guy.  Thanks to my pal/tattoo buddy/partner in Porknography crime, Danielle, I’ve caught the fever.  BBQ fever.  It’s an insidious beast, creeping in slowly from the periphery.  First its dinners out at rib joints, drooling over smoke rings and perfectly varnished slabs of baby backs.  Then researching regional sauces and rubs to try at home on the grill.  But a grill?  Thats…..not nearly enough or even correct.  The full blown fever hits and you’re powerless.  The smoker arrives at your doorstep. You’re ordering wood chips you didn’t know existed in forms you’ve never heard of.  You become a charcoal snob.  “Additives?!?! In MY smoker??”  You’re hooked.  So what does any reasonable person do with sketchy information and just the bare basics down?  You enter a local competition of course.

Welcome to this, my/our personal journey – through trial and error, real vs. anecdotal science, recipe disasters, barks that wouldn’t form and coals that wouldn’t light.  I hope we all learn a thing or two along the way…

Laura

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