Hello to all,
In my younger days, smoking a butt had a very different meaning than it does today. It referred to smoking a cigarette made with an illegal substance that has become fashionable to make legal. As the years progressed and I got older, the term smoking a butt means taking a well-seasoned pork shoulder and putting it into the smoker for eight hours, and then finishing at 220 degrees in the oven for nine more hours.
I smoked my first pork butt back in the 1980s, and it almost killed me. My friend and I strolled to the Piggly Wiggly to buy the best smoking meat. However, this was the time when low-fat was the style of the day, and a good smoked butt requires a layer of fat to keep it moist. Seeing the few butts trimmed of any excessive fat, we asked the butcher for an untrimmed cut of meat.
The butcher brought out a glorious hunk of pork with a whole layer of fat across the top. I can’t remember if it was me or my friend that exclaimed, “That’s one fat butt!” When we turned to leave with our prize, about thirty menacing eyes tore through our souls. Young and older women alike glared at us with the fire of a thousand vulcanos spitting fire
and brimstone. We meekly pointed to our prized pork butt with its heavy layer of fat across the top and then scurried out of the store.
I bought my first smoker in 1999 with the purchase of our first home. It served me well through twenty-five years before the firebox floor gave way from the multiple firings a year and the residue acid left from the ashes. Tammy gifted me a new smoker this summer, and I christened it this week with two butts from the local market. I shared one with friends, and the other went into freezer bags for later use.
One later use has traditionally been a mac&cheese casserole with smoked butt and broccoli. Tammy likes making a salad from the leftovers. Two tortillas, a big handful of pulled pork, cheese, and a little BBQ sauce, grilled nicely on both sides, make an excellent lunch.
I didn’t achieve any writing this week since Monday found me tending the fire every half hour. It was hard to concentrate on Tuesday as the smell of smoked butt filled the house with an intoxicating aroma. This forced everything missed on the first two days of the week to be pushed onto Wednesday, leaving no time to write. I spent Thursday writing this blog with the memory of Tuesday's pork finishing in the oven.
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God bless,
Danny Mac
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