Smoke

Tioga, Texas, Gene Autry’s hometown, there’s a place called Clark’s where they make some of the best barbecue brisket on the planet. They say they smoke theirs for 3 days at 140°. But we’re not gonna put you through all that. It just takes a dedicated pit boss with 6 to 8 hours to spare and a good technique to get the right smoke penetration and produce a juicy but well-done piece of meat in a fraction of the time. That sounds like a contradiction, but it’s possible. All you need is an afternoon with plenty of beer on hand, a bit of patience, and the recipe that follows.

You will need a smoker that can be controlled or a grill and a chip box for this recipe and a supply of maple wood or maple wood chips.

We never went hungry as kids. And we have no inherent fear of the next Great Depression or anxiety about canned food. Still, we always want more. Wanting and eating four of the Swedish shrimp-egg things you can buy in the restaurant at IKEA is a good example of that. Another good example is how we would have piled more stuff on this modest toast if we could have fit it: a can of sardines from Bretagne, maybe, or quails stuffed with crab hiding in the corner. Our first reaction on seeing this photo was, “Shit, we forgot clams.” There are thirty items here, and if we do another book, we will put in sixty, we promise (just so we don’t run out of food). Disclaimer: In no way do we aspire or pretend to serve authentic Scandinavian food. This is just our view projected onto a classic. The closest we have been to Scandinavia is Fred Heimlich-maneuvering a Dane who choked on the biggest oyster ever eaten raw. And it was a weird experience because it was like they kissed; they were shy around each other for the rest of the evening. In the list that follows, an asterisk means a recipe is included. If there’s no *, it means the item is straightforward and you can figure it out. We suggest serving the items on rye bread or a baguette sliced lengthwise and buttered. You then eat your open-faced sandwich with a fork and knife. Or, you can do as we do: add condiments and eat it like a military strategist, portioning, placing, moving, and rationing. Regarding yields: the smorgasbord is more of a concept than a straightforward recipe. The smorgasbord shown here serves 4 to 6, and includes every single thing listed. You don’t have to follow our lead (though we would be pleased). Typically we put 4 or 5 proteins and 4 or 5 condiments on the average smorgasbord. Following this rule, each of the small recipes serves four.

Pier Luc Dallaire has worked for us for five years (and counting) as a cook, busboy, bartender, oyster shucker, and now, a real French waiter! His dad, Bertrand, was a kindred soul gardener, and his mom, Huguette, made these killer doughnuts. They rise with baking powder, not yeast. And you will often find them at weekend country flea markets. The Isle-aux-Grues cheese (page 276) is a great Quebec product that we couldn’t resist smoking. Together they sing.

When Fred travels, the first place he always goes is to a grocery store. Forget the idyllic markets and the virile butchers; he has this immense fascination with supermarkets. Nothing compares to landing in Paris at 9:00 A.M. and heading to the loaded yogurt aisle of a Monoprix. He feels the same when he’s visiting western Canada, checking out the sausage sections. Far from artisanal anything, we’re sure, but the array is crazy: midget baloney, cotton-sack summer sausage, skinless Mennonite, headcheese, jerky of all kinds, and on and on. It’s a fun challenge to take an old commercial sausage and just make it honest again: good meats and real smoke. This one we made with Emma, who was chef de cuisine at Liverpool House at the time. We suggest the use of muslin bags for this sausage in particular. You might find them online, or, as a proper Joe Beefer, you can sew them yourself (see Note). The penetration of smoke is much better and you don’t need a stuffer. You just do it by hand.

Our use of ribs extends beyond a plate of ribs. We use them in gnocchi and in potato soup, and we will cut them into three, remove the bones, and make a McKiernan ribs sandwich. As lard was a staple at the turn of the century, so are ribs at Joe Beef. We provide two ways of cooking: roasting and smoking. Serve with Good Fries (page 154).

Even though places like St. Hubert Rotisserie have been serving the “hot chicken sandwich” since the 1930s, no factual proof exists that it originated in Quebec. Our only proof is that we haven’t seen it outside the province, whereas inside, it’s a weekly staple. It’s basically hot, shredded chicken, served with galvaude (peas and gravy, usually a poutine variation) and two pieces of white bread. In this recipe, you have four meat options: pork, duck, rabbit, or chicken. They’re all hot and they’re all delicious. For pork, use the pulled pork recipe in Scallops with Pulled Pork (page 30). For the other meats, there are three steps: (1) cure it, (2) smoke it, and (3) confit it. If you don’t have a smoker can, you will need to dig up an empty 1-quart (1-liter) tin can for step 2. If you live in the States, D’Artagnan (www.dartagnan.com) will deliver the duck fat you need in step 4 to your door. If not, use bacon fat. The gravy is the perfect clone of the local poulet barbecue sauce. It’s not a hot sauce, but it’s also not that thickish gravy that tastes like spinach and baking soda. It’s zingier, a cross between BBQ sauce and gravy. It is classic on these sandwiches, but it’s also good, minus the bread, on duck, pork, poutine, or yes, chicken.

This is a simple smoking technique that doesn’t take long, though if your aluminum foil seal is not tight, you run the risk of really smoking up your kitchen. So the first time you try it, pick a day that’s warm enough to open the windows and have a fan handy. (I don’t say this to dissuade you, but from very real experience. I do love this recipe, and it works well; but sometimes unfortunate events occur!) The duck is best cut up and served as part of a larger meal of Chinese food or as part of a multinational buffet or used in stir-fries. Chicken is even easier; you can skip the initial steaming if you like.

If you’ve got a smoker or kettle grill, here’s your recipe—you’ll make much more pulled pork than you need for the nachos, but are you complaining? Ever heard of that Memphis classic, a pulled-pork sandwich? Make some Neely’s coleslaw (see page 150), BBQ sauce (see page 37), and toasted hamburger buns, and go to town with the leftovers.

PAT Let me tell you, there’s nothing like a perfectly seasoned smoked beef rib. Don’t be intimidated by their size; beef ribs are easier to cook than pork ribs. Removing the silver membrane on the inside of the ribs is key, particularly with beef ribs that have thick skin. (Start at the end of the bone with your fingers and it’ll pull right off.) Once the film of the membrane is removed, the sweet cherry-cola rub can really penetrate the meat. Cooking the ribs with indirect heat and hickory wood gives them a pull-off-the-bone tenderness and smoky flavor, and the sweet cherry-cola sauce added near the end infuses syrupy goodness into these beauties.

You must believe me when I tell you that making sweet, smoky, succulent bacon with your own two hands is an undertaking you will never regret. It adds something indescribable to dishes like Potato and Asparagus Salad with Home-Cured Bacon and Egg (page 137), and tastes pretty amazing alongside a fried egg. In the restaurants, we cure our own and use it in everything from pastas to panzanella to lentils. Aleppo is a medium-spicy, fruity red pepper that comes from Syria. It has a nice complexity and heat that vanishes almost the minute you notice it’s there. You can find it in Middle Eastern groceries and on the Internet. For this recipe, you’ll need four days, a smoker, and wood chips, preferably hickory.

In the cattle-ranching heartlands of Texas, barbecue usually means beef, not pig, and brisket—which comes from the animal’s lower chest—is hands down the most popular. A little patience and a few hours of smoking or braising transform this relatively tough cut into the most succulent, falling-apart-tender meat you’ll ever eat. Part of the trick is marinating the meat for several hours or even overnight prior to cooking, so be sure to factor in this additional “inactive” prep time. To avoid standing over the grill for six to eight hours, I start the meat on the grill for an infusion of smoky hickory flavor and then let the oven do the rest of the work.

This is David Alan’s take on an old-fashioned that incorporates a smoky flavor from the home-smoked orange juice used as a base. Although smoked juice adds an extra layer of flavor, the drink also tastes good with plain orange juice.

The secret to this recipe is rubbing your seasonings into the meat thoroughly.

The taste of homemade smoked trout is incomparable, making this recipe well worth the effort. Trout, like all fish, must be brined before smoking, so plan on several hours’ worth of brining time before you actually do the smoking. Unlike salmon, trout is hot smoked. Obviously, you’ll need a smoker for this recipe. The choice of wood is up to you: At Bubby’s, we strictly use apple wood. Once you’ve got smoked trout on hand, you may serve it as is or make it into some delicious Smoked Trout Cakes (page 195), a Smoked Trout Scramble (page 101), or Smoked Trout and Scallion Mousse (page 196). Figure that you need to start this recipe about five hours in advance. The salmon is best when smoked the day before you plan to serve it, so that the flavors can blend. To serve, cut the smoked trout into fairly large 2-inch chunks and arrange them as part of a smoked fish platter, along with Smoked Salmon (page 191) and herring (page 196).