Sorry!!!!

This is NOT the caged ham.

 

Did you ever think when you started something that it was not going to work out, but then once you got going it looked like things would be just fine and then in the end you got your heart stomped on?

Well that’s what happened to me in the dog days of summer. No, I’m not Danny Zuko from Grease at the beach singing “Summer Loving” I’m talking about smoking ribs on my awesome “Smokenator 2000”.

I got all of my shit in order and picked up St. Louis style ribs cleaned and ready to roll. I dry rubbed the ribs two different ways wrapped them in plastic and set them in the fridge to do what they do. Smoking can take hours and if you are not ready from the previous day you are in trouble. I picked up brews Friday and by Saturday at 9 AM I was ready to smoke out anyone within a 20 foot radius.

After going over hundreds of hours of video and reading up on the perfect BBQ, I was ready to roll.  I took a quick shower and said good bye to my wife and son because I would not be returning from the back yard for many hours. Things took a strange turn from the word go.  After opening the refrigerator for water to make my son a bottle, my wife wanted to kill me. The pork, although wrapped and in plastic stunk up the fridge something awful.  At first I thought she was exaggerating, but then I smelled the stankness for myself.  Maybe I should have recognized this as an omen of what was yet to come.

I had bags of coal on a table and a cooler all set and ready to go.  I made sure that I had the proper temp gauge and instant read thermometer.  I then began detailed note taking so that next time, if there ever was to be a next time I could look back at the scouting reports and make changes on the fly.  I fired up the smoker and got her to a solid 250 deg. Ribs are on and I’m starting to feel like this will not be good. I even told my wife (repeatedly) that this is a first run and that we should have another option for dinner ready. So as the clock turns and I’m soaking in the rays and drinking the cold, cold beer I began to feel better as things seemed to be going very well at this point. I started to poke my chest out thinking I was a true pit master and began to brag to no one in particular about the easiness of this project. A few hours in I was ready to put the BBQ sauce on.   

I was not quite sure how much longer the ribs needed but they sure looked great. I put a nice coat of glaze on them and the only thing that appeared to be a problem was that the bones weren’t sticking out the way they should. But I said to Babs (for those who don’t know the Caged Ham, herself), “Well whatever” and I pull the ribs... I cut them up, I took a few photos. Let me tell you, the smoke ring looked great!

Well I took one bite and my heart sunk. This must have been what Sandy felt like when she saw Danny dancing and having a great time with Cha Cha.

.  Now, understand the ribs were edible; they had the right amount of sauce, smoke and rub but were tough and just didn’t pull away from the bones. My wife didn’t think they were bad, but just the time and effort alone was what killed me, after all of that hard work and research, I expected perfection and regardless of any one else’s thoughts these ribs were far from it.

What a rollercoaster ride. Next time you meet a BBQ Pit Master give him or her (I’m sure one may be out there) a hug.

This will not stop me and I promise you I will get this right and one day you may even hire me to do you a large event in you back yard.

I give my ribs 1 ham