Posted by TFG on 4th July 2007
As I prep the friers for the smoker, I see that my wife has spent $10 on each chicken…natural, no-hormone, free-range chickens.
In other words, that means I’m spending four hours & $30 to produce a pale imitation of something you can get at any random grocery store for about $4. Add a bad back, the mesquite chips, and the $700 for the smoker itself, and I think I’m going to slink away under the cover of darkness and head for the Gulf coast to sell beaded flip-flops under an assumed name.
I like how they mark it “natural.” Next time I’m in HEB, I’m going to ask the butcher for an unnatural chicken. Surely they have them, since these are labeled such.
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Posted by TFG on 4th July 2007
American Exceptionalism is alive and well here in San Antonio, too. Still the greatest country on Earth, and 2nd place has been lapped.
I got the smoker last night. It’s a lot bigger on my deck than it was in the big-box parking lot. The big-box website doesn’t even know what it’s selling — that’s a New Braunfels Co. Super-Longhorn smoker, which makes far more sense, marketeer-wise, than an Oklahoma Joe Super-Longhorn. Here it is, installed in it’s home, complete with strained back from lifting about a ton of dead weight.
Today’s menu is beer-can chicken, a small rack of beef ribs, and corn on the cob.* The ribs will be going on shortly. And if you’re headed to ole San Antone, don’t fret if you forgot the sunblock — it’s raining.
* What’s that you say? “Where’s the brisket?” See, it’s like this — it’s not nearly seasoned enough (as in none) to produce a great brisket. Chicken is one thing, but brisket needs a broken-in smoker that I know how to operate. As with all things, I need to practice my moves first by starting small.
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