I am smoking a brisket this morning—and for the rest of the day—in anticipation that I will enjoy a flavor late this evening that I have not tasted since I moved to Arkansas. Only a relatively few places in the world smoke beef brisket exactly as I like it, as far as I know. So far, the only ones I’ve found have been in Texas, though I hear that places as far-flung as New York City and Portland, Oregon use the same methods with the same results. In Texas, the ones I’ve most enjoyed include: Cooper’s in Llano; Kruez Market and Black’s Barbecue in Lockhart; City Market in Luling; Meshack’s Bar-B-Q in Garland; Snow’s BBQ in Lexington; and Pecan Lodge in Dallas.
But my favorite is my own brisket, smoked over mesquite logs in a monstrously-heavy offset smoker. I suspect the texture and flavor of the meat is better when done by the professionals, but the satisfaction of doing it myself makes the end result seem spectacularly good. Today, though, I’m not using my old offset smoker; it remains in Texas. Instead, I am using a small electric Masterbuilt smoker, the one I’ve used successfully to smoke pork spare ribs and a pork loin recently. Whether its results will match the results I achieved with the old offset smoker remains to be seen. I am attempting to dial down my expectations in recognition that the smoking I’m doing today bears little resemblance to the smoking I did before. Instead of burning mesquite logs to produce heat and smoke, I’m using electricity to provide the heat; that same heat chars and burns mesquite chips, causing their smoke to fill the smoker.
Will the finished product possess the same blackened bark exterior as the briskets I smoked over a real wood fire? Probably not. Will I find a beautiful red smoke ring when I cut into the brisket, after it reaches the right internal temperature (190 degrees) and I allow it to rest in a cooler for an hour? Probably not. But will it taste better than the brisket I’ve had at local BBQ joints? I sure hope so. I don’t know quite what these places do to smoke their meat, but it just doesn’t come even remotely close to what I experienced in Texas. It’s not that it tastes bad. It’s not bad at all, it’s just nothing like what I long to taste.
My brisket has been in the smoker since six o’clock this morning. I hope to learn my efforts were worthwhile this evening, probably around six or seven, after I’ve retrieved the beast from the smoker and let it rest. But I’m trying not to get my hopes too high. Brisket smoked in that old offset smoker required constant tending of the fire, with the attendant beer drinking to keep cool. The electric smoker requires hourly replenishment of wood chips, with no need for beer. It’s not the same, but maybe, just maybe, the results will allow me to “go home again.”
