By Mike Zlotnicki, Staff Writer
The German philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach once said, "Man is what he eats."
Then, "oink, oink." I'm part pig, part chicken and wholly unashamed.
Few things in life are better than pulled pork, smoked ribs or barbecued chicken. And in my estimation the best way to cook them is on a smoker -- a bullet-type smoker in particular.
A smoker is a life-changing appliance, and if you take the time to master it, your gas grill soon will be collecting dust and rust. The smoker is largely idiot-proof (your author being Exhibit A). There's no easier -- or, better -- way of cooking meat for the masses short of a pig cooker.
A bullet smoker is a fairly simple contraption. It has a fire pan for coals at the bottom, a water pan with a rack on top and then another rack about a foot above that one. A dome lid completes the outfit.
My love affair with the smoker started in the early '70s on the island of Guam. My folks bought a Hibachi Pot (now known as a Big Green Egg), and Dad smoked fish we caught on the reefs and beef from the commissary.
In the early '90s I bought a cheap Brinkman smoker and fiddled with it enough to become intrigued with its ability to mass produce tasty meat. But no dude worth his Man Card keeps anything stock, so some modifications were in order. Holes were drilled to improve airflow to keep the coals lit, and another hole to accept a candy thermometer in the dome.
Next, I took a step up to the Brinkman Gourmet. This model, about $50, should be the starting point for bullet smokers. A louvered fire pan improves air flow, and it's designed to keep ashes contained. (It could use a top vent, and some metal drill bits would help with the flow).
A colleague caught the smoker bug and purchased a Weber Smoking Mountain Cooker/Smoker, the Cadillac of bullet smokers. I kept cooking on the Brinkman and suffered smoker envy until a wind toppled our patio umbrella, bending the metal cylinder of my smoker.
That turned out to be a wind of fortune; my wife took pity on me and purchased a Weber (known as a WSM among its fans) last Christmas. I fairly wept when she unveiled it in the garage (along with two others that arrived via an Internet shipping snafu).
There's an adage about "buying the best and only crying once." At $200 the WSM ain't cheap, but it's sturdy and it features three vents on the bottom and one on the lid, and fuel (air) control allows one to more closely control the cooking temperature and length of burn, essential for low, slow cooking. The WSM transformed me from smoker hack to Chef Boy-Ar-Z.
The basicsI use my smoker in two ways: as a smoker with water in the water pan, and as a cooker (roaster) with the pan removed. In fact, if I plan to cook "fast" (above 350 degrees) I always remove the pan. With the water pan two-thirds full, it's easy to keep the unit rolling along at 225 to 250 degrees for 10 to 12 hours on one load of charcoal. It's all in the vents. The other week I cooked three Boston butts (a part of the pork shoulder) at 240 degrees for 10 hours. At the end, the shoulder blade slid out and meat was pulled with one hand.
Nearly every Sunday I cook chicken for the week's lunches. (My nutritionist told me to cut back on my red meat consumption; imagine that.) That's an hour and a half at 350. I put a rub on them and turn once halfway through. It's simple and delicious.
Last year I cooked the Thanksgiving turkey on the smoker. I brined the bird in a cooler overnight, then drained it, slathered it with olive oil and rubbed it with herbs and spices. I heated the smoker to 350 and cooked for the requisite pounds per hour. I've never cooked a better-tasting bird, and I've done 'em in the oven, the gas grill and the fryer (which is way overrated in my opinion).
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