I've written about this project before. From now the essays which are written will be posted here and, as soon as I have a suitable space worked out, I'll be recording the essays.
Long before fireworks light the July fourth evening sky there is another sign of the day being special. From early in the day a smell of barbecue begins to waft round the nation - from the evening before in the most dedicated locations.
Pits are dug, huge wagons designed to contain large amounts of produce are wiped lovingly, fixings checked so they won’t stick or jam. Logs and coals are burnt, heat built, and then regulated to allow the perfect cooking temperature. In residential areas more modest barbecue barrels are wheeled out of the garage, or have their covers removed. Portable barbecue buckets or disposable trays are taken to beaches, lakes, and other favorite camp spots.
Finally, the neighbour no one really like makes sure there is a full propane bottle in the expensive and shiny PitMaster 3000 SuperDeluxe Mark XV, and that the strip steaks are in the refrigerator.
And the barbecue is a staple of other special days: Game days; birthdays; break-ups and anniversaries; companies have annual ones in lieu of regular pay-rises; weekdays; Saturday, and Sunday. Such is the draw of barbecue that there’s even an annual Senate cookout - one of the few remaining times when the opposite sides of the aisle will sup together in a truly non-partisan manner.
However, we wouldn’t want to get the impression that this method of cooking with smoke and indirect heat is a magical way of curing all ills, quelling any contention, and acting as a soothing balm on bitterness. Even as sides and drinks are laid out on long tables and meat thermometers considered, long running family disputes burble away; fights as to who is the best pitcher, quarter back, or point guard rumble; squabbles about elephants or donkeys erupt and flash.
Then there’s the whole discussion about who does the best barbecue, what the best meat is, how the best rubs and sauces are made, and who gets Uncle Jerry’s secret recipe when he dies.
For barbecue is not a monoculture defined by a cooking method but, like the United States itself, a vast collection of individual styles which both go back centuries and form an ever-changing amalgam of styles and influences from folks keen to join in and can’t but help bring the things which moulded them to the equation.
Still, there are very distinct main styles, and regions, which are worth knowing and understanding. And talking of regions, while the whole nation enjoys a barbecue, it has a home, a region, within the nation. The south-east, starting with North Carolina swinging down the Atlantic coast round into the Gulf and along to Texas gives us most of the area, add in Oklahoma, Missouri, and Kentucky and that’s pretty much the home of US barbecue, and there’s a reason why this is so which will be looked at when we discuss barbecue’s history.
But let’s focus on the heart of the matter just now, what meats are going on. While Texans while assure you beef is everything the reality is pork is the boss. Racks of ribs which melt off the bone; butt which is shredded after slow cooking; or the shoulder similarly prepared but cut into succulent slices; and the king of it all - a whole hog.
There’s two distinct ways of doing a whole hog: The first involves keeping its full shape, possibly even filling the cavity with everything from brisket to sauerkraut via pineapple and many other odd assortments. This is then bound to keep it together and cooked for anywhere between eight and sixteen hours; Secondly the pig is ‘butterflied’ which involves slicing down the spine and breast bone before spreading it out. This method can allow for a swifter cooking time while keeping the heat nice and gentle.
Of course, anything you can do with a pig, you can do with a cow, and whole steer barbecue is out there for the folks with the space and time to undertake it.
If pork and beef are the one and two of barbecue, chicken is number three. And being so much smaller chicken is an ideal whole animal for those with more compact facilities. A great way of doing a whole chicken involves popping a can or bottle of beer placing the chicken over it and cooking away. The beer evaporates into the chicken to give it a great flavour and keep it nice and tender - it’s a diy version of a South African technique of basting with beer.
Before we move on to bastes and flavors it’s good to finish off the meats that get barbecued: We can add lamb, turkey, and deer as basic options; along coastal areas various fish, shrimp, crab and other shellfish make an appearance; more unusual items may include snake - if you’re seeking a recipe for such you’re sure to come across the ‘snake method of smoking’ a way to set up a two zone cooking area which allows an easy low and slow cook; in states with freshwater lakes and swamps - think Florida, Louisiana, Missouri, and the Carolinas - you might even find alligator at a cookout. Traditionally it’s said it tastes like chicken, and there is a delicateness to the tail meat which is reminiscent of the bird, or possibly a smaller quail. But the legs are gamier and, along with the body, more reminiscent of pork. Though in saying all that, be prepared for a vague fishiness to the flavour. Lastly, we need to consider how to eat if meat isn’t our thing, but still have a love of open air coal or wood (let’s ignore gas, yes?) cooked food.
There’s the staple of corn on the cob, and if you buy them with leaves still on they come ready to cook. But there are so many other options! Slices of firm butternut squash placed on hot racks until just softened; whole heads of cauliflower, or thick slices of them; maybe peppers stuffed with other veg; or skewers of mixed veg like pepper, onion, and mushroom. In reality only a desire to experiment limits the food you can infuse with the flavor from a barbecue.
While absolute purists will insist that the only flavor you need on a barbecue comes from the coals and the wood, the rest of the us like to add in something extra. And if you think what cut of meat to use, or what wood to smoke with, causes arguments well, you ain’t heard nothing yet.
Now, you can go to your local store and find acres of bottled barbecue sauce with names evocative of small shacks hidden away in backwoods, or huge chains allowing you to enjoy their signature style sauce in your own backyard. But who buys their barbecue sauce in a jar? Yeh, that guy with the shiny gas barbecue. It’s okay to put on a lazy day burger and fries, but not for that important cookout!
How do you go about choosing the sauce to use? There are so many, and not all of them are full of tomato and sugar!
Maybe you’re a fan of thick sticky sweet sauces, which start with sugar and paprika, layer in tomato, garlic, vinegar, molasses, mustard, allspice, cloves, and maybe a bay leaf or two. Or it could be you like the sauce a little wetter, not so sticky, and so you lose some of the sugar, all the molasses, and maybe those warming spices. But you do up the vinegar and mustard.
And with both these styles the amount of heat you put in will depend on your taste, but there has to a be a decent warmth which sits below the taste of the meat as you chew, but then builds afterwards to leave your mouth holding the taste like a memory of the wood which produced the heat to cook. Throwing in some raw chilli near the end isn’t going to give you that level of taste.
But not all barbecue sauces exist in the spectrum of cherry red to burnt ends brown. Ones which are yellower are heavily mustard based and up in Kentucky that sharpness is great for cutting through the richness of the lamb which is a barbecue speciality of the western part of the state. Down in Alabama, though up in the north of the state, there’s a white sauce which has been around since the mid-nineteen-twenties. Like all sauces there are base ingredients which then get built on. For white barbecue sauce those basics are vinegar, salt, coarse ground pepper, and mayonnaise.
Proponents of this paler sauce expound its versatility, using it for basting barbecue chicken, drizzling it into salads, or over pulled pork and as a dipping sauce for things like pretzels.
For anyone who has not grown up with barbecue the variety of sauces may seem bewildering, but the great thing is there is so much variety you can be versatile. Doing brisket and really hoping to get that thick bark and some nice burnt ends? You’re doing pork rump and serving it pulled? You got some chickens or a turkey that are going to get some smoked loving for a few hours? Are those racks of ribs you have? You can go with a different sauce for all of them and, as you become more proficient, tweak the recipes to get just the taste and texture you want.
Of course, lots of folks will be brought up in a family church of The One True Sauce and considering using anything else is heresy of the highest order. Having the family turn up and them finding you aren’t using Great-Gramps recipe sauce won’t end the barbecue in its tracks, but it will make it an event which is talked about with hushed tones for years to come, and the next time you suggest hosting one you’d better be using the right sauce, or folks will be busy that weekend.
But there’s a strange thing about Great-Gramps sauce. If he was still around today he wouldn’t recognise it. Each generation tweaks it a little, dropping an ingredient which was easy to get seventy years ago but disappeared when the makers went bankrupt in the sixties, or switching from plain vinegar to organic apple cider vinegar because it makes the flavour profile more like it was back when you were a kid - which is weird because, while everyone agrees on the change, no one can point out what had changed in the mean time.
All this talk of sauces overlooks a couple of other ways of bringing extra flavor to the barbecue.
When it comes to meat, fat gets a raw deal, the mission to make it lean has such a grip on the common person that it’s forgotten fat is an ideal ingredient for keeping a meat moist while it cooks, keeping it juicy, of bringing flavour. It’s what makes brisket and bacon taste so good. But not all meats have a good enough fat content. You can add some in, or you can brine it. Brining involves soaking your meat in salted water to allow the salt to help start breaking the proteins down before cooking starts, but it’s also a good way to introduce flavours which will be subtle. The general rubric is an hour of soaking for each pound of meat, and cold water naturally. You don’t want to start the meat cooking the day before - it’s a good way to end up with food poisoning.
A less subtle method of adding in taste is the dry rub, which exists somewhere between meat-only purists, and slather-in-sauce-and-keep-mopping-while-cooking. Choosing the salts, peppers, herbs, and spices for a dry rub has the potential for as much controversy as a sauce. Though, for some reason, rub mixes can be more individual than sauces. Probably because it disappears in the cooking and doesn’t need to be there for dipping and drizzling after.
By the time the July fourth fireworks start a lot of the eating will be over. Not all of it though, there will be loads of potato salad and that weird pasta stuff and, somehow, almost as much meat as you started with, which is fine, because the promise of a barbecue and the promise of America are similar: There’s plenty more to come.
Anyone who has any input on the essays, either corrections or additional information, add a note and I'll look to include it.
Please, enjoy.
words by stuartcturnbull. Picture licenced from Kirsten Alana and worked in Canva