Did he cook that on the Traeger?
A funny thing transpired at our spontaneous Labour Day Cookout that confirmed I apparently have a bit of a reputation.
Labour Day Weekend cookouts, in my opinion are the pinnacle event of a Canadian summer. A lot of changes have happened over the last few months in our house, so we didn’t actually plan one for this year in advance.
Ashley started her new venture as a cook at our local hotspot in town. Ashley being Ashley, she was very well received and made friends with just about everybody almost instantaneously. I also love the place. The food is done exceptionally well, management are fantastic people and her coworkers are salt of the Earth.
One night, I was smoking a rack of ribs for our dinner for when she got home from work. I thought I would be a nice guy and throw an extra couple of racks on, and deliver them over to the kitchen crew at the restaurant for their meal. I just made a fresh batch of our Forty Creek Whisky and Ontario Peach barbeque sauce, so they were top notch ribs. I’m told they didn’t last long at all. One of the other sauté cooks, then proclaimed to Ashley that I was now their husband as well.
Thursday, prior to the long weekend, those cooks started jokingly prodding at Ashley, telling her we should have a barbeque and invite them all over. She sent me a text, to which I replied, with an impromptu menu and my usual. “Don’t threaten me with a good time” retort. The stage was set. We were now hosting a barbeque that we had not planned for. Not an issue, until it was.
One of the features on the cookout spread was my pork belly burnt ends. They are always a crowd hit and pretty easy to manage. Ashley was working throughout this weekend, so prep was on me. Including procuring provisions.
The only downfall of my favourite butcher that is close is they do not open on Sundays. My second favourite butcher that is local also doesn’t open on Sunday. I was explaining this to my friend and neighbor, Dale. You’ll remember him as one of the co-judges in the rib competition a few weeks ago. Him and his lovely wife were obviously invited to our barbecue, and we’re also out gathering items for Sarah‘s kick ass ranch dip,(stay tuned because I’m stealing that recipe and will share it soon) so they asked if they could keep an eye out for me. I accepted the offer immediately.
The thing about Dale is, he is like a dog with a bone. Not finding a pork belly was not an option. He also appreciates quality meat like me, so that made the search even more challenging. After some region-wide sleuthing, he sourced one from a butcher about 25 minutes south of us and brought it over. Thank Christ. Crisis averted. Shout out to Jepsons Meats in Hagersville. That was a beautiful cut!
Fast forward to Monday morning. I had already completed all of the side dishes and accoutrements the night before, so I could focus on the pit. We were also serving stuffed mushrooms and chicken pineapple skewers. A lot of live fire venues going at once needs your attention. It was an incredibly hot.And humid day, and the oppressive heat had already begun by 9 AM.
As I stepped out in the yard I could smell the smoker which wasn’t even lit yet. When you cook on live fire, and your smoker develops years of seasoning, it always smells like it’s lit when you’re standing close to it. Especially in hot, humid weather. I tell people you can smell the soul of the pit.
That’s the magic of those beautiful units. Your food taste better with each and every cook. My smokers and grills get routine cleanings, but that usually just means scraping out the old, congealed fats, grease and bits that collect on the bottom. A quick scrape of the barrel to rid the creosote and I give the grates a good wipe down, and that’s it. No cleaning solutions or water see the inside of my pit. Just good old fashion, elbow grease to preserve the integrity of the layers of seasoning from previous cooks. You don’t want to kill the soul.
Our guests started to pour in around 4 PM. The belly was well done by that point and holding in a hotel pan in the pit, soaking in the glaze and waiting to be devoured. After the obligatory welcome cocktails, I started to dish out the food, buffet style. It was a hit. It was the only quiet part of the evening, and all you heard over the music was moaning, chewing and “oh my gods” which to a cook, is better than all the money in the world.
As the people started to make the blissful walk outside for post-dinner cocktails and “party favours”, Dale came to me laughing.
One of the guests, who is the spouse of one of Ashley’s coworkers asked Dale if these were made on “the Traeger.” Now, when I am asked my opinion on pellet smokers, I’m very diplomatic, and say there is a smoker for everybody. There is no shame in them in my opinion. Not everybody has the same passion, time and drive that goes into this craft like me when it comes to live fire cooking, but they still love the taste of a nice, smoky pork shoulder, rack of ribs or brisket. I’m just happy when everybody’s eating.
I don’t even own a gas grill, let alone a Traeger. Everything I do is by charcoal or fire. Dale, being the awesome friend he is, immediately took playful offence to the question and asked if the guy was high. I felt bad for him afterwards, but it made me smile, knowing that I do have a bit of a reputation when it comes to being a smoke snob, even when I’m not trying to be one.
Thanks, Dale! Lol