TASTE
Slow, smokin' barbecue
By Wanda A. Adams
Advertiser Food Editor
Listen up, y'all out there in hibachi-land. Throwing a piece of meat on a Weber full of lighter fluid-soaked briquettes is NOT barbecue. It's grilling.
Neither is a technique used by an Islander who shall remain nameless. Her idea of barbecue was boiling great slabs of ribs until they were ragged gray strands of fiber clinging to bone, then slathering them with tomato sauce spiked with (shudder) Liquid Smoke before (gasp!) baking them.
There are some Southern states where you could get hauled in front of a judge for calling that barbecue.
No, says restaurateur Ed Wary of Dixie Grill in 'Aiea, barbecue is smokin'.
"No smoke, no barbecue," said Wary, who tends to spell it Bar-b-Que.
Think about the difference between teriyaki on the hibachi versus pig from an imu, the Hawaiians' pit-smoking method.
The teri sticks are grilled, caramelized, quickly cooked. The pig is barbecued for a full day or night, flavored by smoke from the long, hot fire that is used to heat the stones that actually do the cooking, and from the banana stumps and ti leaves used in the preparation, Wary said.
So, to go all Webster on you, here is the definition of barbecue, according to the Book of Ed:
Just don't call it barbecue if it's not.
The key, said Wary, is that the meat doesn't cook rapidly over the heat source, as in grilling. It sits above or alongside smoldering wood, or, in many cases, encased in a self-contained covered smoker into which smoke is channeled from a separate burning source.
Wary's got a refrigerator-size smoker out back, the state-of-the-art Cookshack electric smoker, which can hold racks and racks of ribs or whatever and has a low-burning electrical element at the bottom that keeps a small pile of chips doing the work of 10 men. A drip pan is suspended under the meat to prevent fires. It's got a thermostat to control the heat, and it's practically foolproof (www.cookshack.com; they make home models).
"This thing is so effective it's illegal to use one at the Memphis in May world championship barbecue cooking contest," Wary said. "It's considered cheating."
It's the jerry-rigged contraption out the back door of the restaurant that gave us hope that we could try smoking at home. You wouldn't believe this silly-looking thing: It's an ordinary cooler, one of those big, white party-size things; not Styrofoam, of course.
There's about a 1 1/4-inch puka in one end and they've fitted a rack loosely inside. Into the hole is plugged a hose, which channels smoke to the food.
It has to be a flexible, nontoxic, food-safe type of hose. This one was articulated, so it bent easily without breaking. Find the right thing in the plumbing department.
The smoke comes from smoldering wood chips in — of all things — an ordinary terra cotta planter. You need two. Start the fire in one (use some old newspaper, a little kindling and the wood chips; NO fire starter, please). When it's smoldering nicely (takes minutes), up-end a second planter pot of the same size over the top, stick the opposite end of the hose into the drain hole, wrap some foil and duct tape around the rims of the two vases to prevent precious smoke from escaping, and stand back. (Need we say you should do this outdoors, on concrete?)
If all this sounds like too much trouble, home smokers are all over the Internet and come in small box sizes easy for individuals to use.
Get this: To cold-smoke things like salmon and other fish, you can just add a thickish layer of ice to the cooler and put the rack of fish sides or fillets over it. The fish is done in just minutes; you don't want to oversmoke it and overpower the taste. Of course, the seafood is not cooked; you still need to grill or fry it. (As a comparison, pulled pork might be smoked slowly 17 hours; a side of salmon should be out of the cold smoker in 20 minutes.)
You can add a light layer of smoky flavor to delicate food this way — oysters in the shell, crab, cheese and even nuts, for example.
Wary says he's open to smoking just about any food: He's working on getting the right chicory flavorings for coffee beans, for example.
We can just hear Jim Carrey now:
"SSSSSSSSmo-kin'!"
Reach Wanda A. Adams at wadams@honoluluadvertiser.com.