When the Green Egg first arrived I could not really understand its power, its bravado, its general staggering magnificence. I smacked some burgers on the grill, maybe some seafood. Standard fare, really. Then I accidentally got it up to 800 degrees and melted off the felt gasket. That blew. 800 degrees prompted pizza. A little too smoky. Which got me thinking. Smoky.... I pulled out my BBQ book. I read, I studied and I became determined to tame this beast. It's easy to get the temp up, but how to get it to a slow smolder. Air was the answer and playing with it was my task.
I was ready. I purchased a bone in pork shoulder. Roughed it up and smacked it around with some salt, brown sugar and hot pepper. Got the Egg ready and added some soaked hickory chips and produced thick smoke. In went the shoulder. Two hours later, out went the charcoal. Not a complete bust, as the shoulder eventually cooked, although it was dry and squeeky. Know what I mean? Some homemade BBQ sauce masked its imperfections and my choice of a brioche roll was not quite right.
After numerous tries, I got it down. Don't give up, friends. A promise is a cloud; the fulfillment is rain, said someone smarter than me and I am using it to suit my meaning. I knew that if I kept at this Egg, it would yield something magical. I did not give up. Eventually I arrived home, baby. I used some super squishy yeasty rolls I purchased at a deli in Jersey that had little burnt onion pieces. So delicious. The meat was juicy and smoky and well, incredible. The Egg did its job. It just needed some love and appreciation. I had a Ferrari in the back yard and I was treating it like a 1985 Toyota Tercel.
