Roger Tulk
Member
- Messages
- 3,018
- Location
- St. Catharines, Ontario, Canada
My wife presented me and one of my sons in law with Masterbuilt smokers. Now, smoking isn't a big thing in Canada, at least in Ontario, but I did once smoke a salmon from Lake Ontario. Damn that thing was hard to light up, too! (You've all heard that one before, right?) Anyway, the smoking made the fish edible, after three days, so I was a bit uneasy with my new acquisition, especially when SWMBO told me I had to hurry up to assemble it and smoke a ham and some squash for dinner. I had bought the ham a couple of days previous. It was big, spiral cut and fully cooked, so I figured not much could go wrong. I figured correctly, and everyone enjoyed the ham, although we didn't think much of the squash.
The next encounter was earlier this week, when LOML decided to have some church ladies over for dinner, and brought home a couple of racks of ribs, and a whole lot of chicken legs and thighs, and told me I was cooking them in the smoker for dinner two days hence. So, Google is my friend. I set aside six hours for the ribs, and two for the chicken. The two for the chicken turned out to be a mistake as I misread the instructions. However, I followed the instructions to apply a rub and smoke at 225º for three hours, then took the ribs out of the smoker and wrapped them in foil with a liquid of my choice (I used ginger ale) and cooked at 225º for 2 more hours. While this was going on, I sprinkled the chicken with Mrs. Dash, and put them in the top of the smoker with about 2 hours to go. I unwrapped the ribs after two hours in the foil, applied barbecue sauce, and slapped one onto the grill. I got a flame that lit up the neighbourhood. It completely filled the inside of the smoker, and sent me running into the house for a jug of water. I came back and threw the water on the flames, which immediately went out. (Note to self: keep a jug of water handy.)The rest of the cooking went without undue stress, and at 6:30 I took some very black ribs and dark chicken pieces out of the smoker, and went inside where the church ladies were sitting at the table drinking wine and having a good time. Marion cut up the ribs and put the chicken on a platter, and I immediately heard someone say, "The chicken is perfect." All my fears dissolved; the ribs were good (I wouldn't call them perfect) and the chicken was cooked just enough that it wasn't dry, and people kept throwing compliments my way. Success!
Of course, this means I 'm going to have to stand outside in any weather from now on, smoking dinner. Life would be so much easier if I had done a bad job.
Here's a picture of the smoker, and the ribs just before wrapping them in foil.
The next encounter was earlier this week, when LOML decided to have some church ladies over for dinner, and brought home a couple of racks of ribs, and a whole lot of chicken legs and thighs, and told me I was cooking them in the smoker for dinner two days hence. So, Google is my friend. I set aside six hours for the ribs, and two for the chicken. The two for the chicken turned out to be a mistake as I misread the instructions. However, I followed the instructions to apply a rub and smoke at 225º for three hours, then took the ribs out of the smoker and wrapped them in foil with a liquid of my choice (I used ginger ale) and cooked at 225º for 2 more hours. While this was going on, I sprinkled the chicken with Mrs. Dash, and put them in the top of the smoker with about 2 hours to go. I unwrapped the ribs after two hours in the foil, applied barbecue sauce, and slapped one onto the grill. I got a flame that lit up the neighbourhood. It completely filled the inside of the smoker, and sent me running into the house for a jug of water. I came back and threw the water on the flames, which immediately went out. (Note to self: keep a jug of water handy.)The rest of the cooking went without undue stress, and at 6:30 I took some very black ribs and dark chicken pieces out of the smoker, and went inside where the church ladies were sitting at the table drinking wine and having a good time. Marion cut up the ribs and put the chicken on a platter, and I immediately heard someone say, "The chicken is perfect." All my fears dissolved; the ribs were good (I wouldn't call them perfect) and the chicken was cooked just enough that it wasn't dry, and people kept throwing compliments my way. Success!
Of course, this means I 'm going to have to stand outside in any weather from now on, smoking dinner. Life would be so much easier if I had done a bad job.
Here's a picture of the smoker, and the ribs just before wrapping them in foil.