When Good Meat Goes Bad
On Monday I smoked a very disappointing rack of ribs. Dry. Chewy. Not good at all.
It especially cut deep because I had been on a little bit of a roll as of late. My last couple of racks were competition worthy. Then, last weekend I successfully pulled off my first ever overnight cook. I threw a brisket and a pork shoulder on the smoker before bed, and let that baby chug along all night at 250 degrees. The result the next morning was great. If anything, the brisket was a little too tender, according to KCBS meat judging criteria (which I have memorized).
I think I had convinced myself that I had turned a corner where I would never again mess up a piece of meat. It was a foolish paradigm, because I am far too much a novice in my meat smoking career for me to think that I can just trot out there and be the bomb every time. Now I know how Kobe Bryant felt when he air balled all of those threes a few years ago, thus nailing the coffin on a Laker's playoff defeat.
It's ok. It was a wakeup call. The good news is that my chance for redemption is right around the corner. This weekend Stacy and I are providing the meat for a family function of approximately 30 people. We're not talking cold cuts here, either. A brisket and two butts. They need to be fit for public consumption, and they need to be done within a narrow window of time.
Good thing I've been snapped back to reality so that I can take this as seriously as is needed. We're not playing around anymore.
Fair Dinkum
It especially cut deep because I had been on a little bit of a roll as of late. My last couple of racks were competition worthy. Then, last weekend I successfully pulled off my first ever overnight cook. I threw a brisket and a pork shoulder on the smoker before bed, and let that baby chug along all night at 250 degrees. The result the next morning was great. If anything, the brisket was a little too tender, according to KCBS meat judging criteria (which I have memorized).
I think I had convinced myself that I had turned a corner where I would never again mess up a piece of meat. It was a foolish paradigm, because I am far too much a novice in my meat smoking career for me to think that I can just trot out there and be the bomb every time. Now I know how Kobe Bryant felt when he air balled all of those threes a few years ago, thus nailing the coffin on a Laker's playoff defeat.
It's ok. It was a wakeup call. The good news is that my chance for redemption is right around the corner. This weekend Stacy and I are providing the meat for a family function of approximately 30 people. We're not talking cold cuts here, either. A brisket and two butts. They need to be fit for public consumption, and they need to be done within a narrow window of time.
Good thing I've been snapped back to reality so that I can take this as seriously as is needed. We're not playing around anymore.
Fair Dinkum