Thursday, October 29, 2009
NaNoWriMo
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Ham radio
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Slate
It cracks me up every time I watch the cooking channel, and there’s some crazy BBQ contest winner gloating over his secret recipe. Some guy will go on and on about a dry rub that’s been passed on to him by his grandma, or another will be standing next to a smoker the size of a mac truck, but I know what’s what. Any recipe can be deconstructed to reveal its secret, and any guy with a smoker is compensating for something less in his life.
What these cooks won’t divulge is what I’ve learned through practiced hands, glazing thousands of pounds of ribs and chicken in search of the perfect bite. Perfection is achieved when you create the exact ratio of sauce to meat. What cooks don’t understand about the science of taste is made up by relying on dry rubs and smokers. But they always fail.
So when Aunt Mae passed on and left me this unassuming brush – this brush that I had seen her apply to Sunday dinner BBQs when I was growing up – I knew I had magic. Its ability to absorb sauce and then apply a consistent layer onto the meat is without equal.
Each application of sauce is, in a word, perfect, making each bite that you take, sublime.
There’s never been another one like it and it’s a shame not to keep it in the family. But you know how it is with kids these days: always wanting store-bought shiny things, even though they break after a week. No, I think it’s time. The brush belongs in a good home with a good family with good taste buds.
Punchlines