DrewZ
Knows what a fatty is.
- Joined
- Apr 3, 2014
- Location
- Cranford...
Gestalt: [gə-ˈstält] something that is made of many parts and yet is somehow more than or different from the combination of its parts
With meat in low quantities at the market, I took the opportunity to dig through my freezer. The oldest things I found were a rack of preseasoned Smithfield St. Louis ribs and a hunk of shoulder that I de-boned and tied after cutting off some chunks for All-Day Sunday Red Gravy. The ribs fit in with the ongoing Spareribs throwdown. The shoulder, with some explanation, fits the Brethren-Inspired throwdown.
When I first happened upon this site, I was new to charcoal and new to low-and-slow. I wanted precise answers. What temperature to cook at? How many hours? How many briqs to light? What brand of charcoal to use? How many millimeters should the vents be open? As a result, I spent way too much time focusing on the individual parts and making my grill look like this:
Even with such an anally-retentive charcoal setup, I still ended up staring at the remote thermometer for the entirety of the cook, chasing temps, peeking too often. The food came out great, but the process was far from relaxing.
It took an embarrassingly long time, but I eventually surrendered. There are no Answers. There is no Higher BBQ Truth.
The truth is this ain't rocket surgery.
And with that too-long intro, my brethren-inspired cook was to channel my inner Elsa and Let. It. Go. Make something of many parts, yet focus on none of the individual parts. Gestalt it.
I dumped new charcoal in with the half-burnt charcoal in the basket. Cleared out some space for some new lit coals (6 or 8, I honestly can't tell you) threw in some wood chunks and got rolling. I cobbled together some commercial rub with some additional spices and patted down the mustard-slathered shoulder. It went on around 7:15 a.m. then I left the house for over an hour. [When is it going to be done?! When it's done.]
About 2 hours later, I looked at the notoriously unreliable dome thermometer. [What's the temperature at the grate!? No idea.] On the few occasions I looked at it over the next several hours, the dome thermo read somewhere between 200 and 300.
First peek about 3 1/2 hours in. [What's the internal temp?! No idea.]
Threw in some more briqs and went about my business. (Got sucked into a Flea Market Flip marathon. Was overcome with the urge to break quarantine and sell repainted junk to Brooklyn hipsters at outrageous prices.)
Somewhere around noon, I split the rack in half and propped it up against the shoulder. The only prep was to pull off the membrane. Whatever seasoning it came with was the seasoning it got. This was the scene around 3pm. Not exactly sure when I wrapped the shoulder, but I threw in some combination of butter, sriracha and apple jelly.
Somewhere along the way, the shoulder felt right when poked with a chopstick, so I pulled it and stuck it in a styrofoam cooler with some towels. Ribs were wrapped somewhere along the way (no additions to the foil) and went into the cooler around 4:30. I left the house again for more than an hour. When I decided I was going to eat, I fired up some more charcoal and set about finishing the ribs. Just some direct heat, no sauce.
Out of the foil.
Onto the grill.
Plated with some cantaloupe.
This may be the cleanest bite of rib I've ever had.
After dinner, I eventually got around to pulling the shoulder. Came apart beautifully.
So that's my recipe and instructions for ribs and shoulder. There isn't one. Just Gestalt it.
With meat in low quantities at the market, I took the opportunity to dig through my freezer. The oldest things I found were a rack of preseasoned Smithfield St. Louis ribs and a hunk of shoulder that I de-boned and tied after cutting off some chunks for All-Day Sunday Red Gravy. The ribs fit in with the ongoing Spareribs throwdown. The shoulder, with some explanation, fits the Brethren-Inspired throwdown.
When I first happened upon this site, I was new to charcoal and new to low-and-slow. I wanted precise answers. What temperature to cook at? How many hours? How many briqs to light? What brand of charcoal to use? How many millimeters should the vents be open? As a result, I spent way too much time focusing on the individual parts and making my grill look like this:
Even with such an anally-retentive charcoal setup, I still ended up staring at the remote thermometer for the entirety of the cook, chasing temps, peeking too often. The food came out great, but the process was far from relaxing.
It took an embarrassingly long time, but I eventually surrendered. There are no Answers. There is no Higher BBQ Truth.
The truth is this ain't rocket surgery.
And with that too-long intro, my brethren-inspired cook was to channel my inner Elsa and Let. It. Go. Make something of many parts, yet focus on none of the individual parts. Gestalt it.
I dumped new charcoal in with the half-burnt charcoal in the basket. Cleared out some space for some new lit coals (6 or 8, I honestly can't tell you) threw in some wood chunks and got rolling. I cobbled together some commercial rub with some additional spices and patted down the mustard-slathered shoulder. It went on around 7:15 a.m. then I left the house for over an hour. [When is it going to be done?! When it's done.]
About 2 hours later, I looked at the notoriously unreliable dome thermometer. [What's the temperature at the grate!? No idea.] On the few occasions I looked at it over the next several hours, the dome thermo read somewhere between 200 and 300.
First peek about 3 1/2 hours in. [What's the internal temp?! No idea.]
Threw in some more briqs and went about my business. (Got sucked into a Flea Market Flip marathon. Was overcome with the urge to break quarantine and sell repainted junk to Brooklyn hipsters at outrageous prices.)
Somewhere around noon, I split the rack in half and propped it up against the shoulder. The only prep was to pull off the membrane. Whatever seasoning it came with was the seasoning it got. This was the scene around 3pm. Not exactly sure when I wrapped the shoulder, but I threw in some combination of butter, sriracha and apple jelly.
Somewhere along the way, the shoulder felt right when poked with a chopstick, so I pulled it and stuck it in a styrofoam cooler with some towels. Ribs were wrapped somewhere along the way (no additions to the foil) and went into the cooler around 4:30. I left the house again for more than an hour. When I decided I was going to eat, I fired up some more charcoal and set about finishing the ribs. Just some direct heat, no sauce.
Out of the foil.
Onto the grill.
Plated with some cantaloupe.
This may be the cleanest bite of rib I've ever had.
After dinner, I eventually got around to pulling the shoulder. Came apart beautifully.
So that's my recipe and instructions for ribs and shoulder. There isn't one. Just Gestalt it.
