Artisanal Barbecue
artisanal ar‘ti·san·al (är‘tĭ-zə-nəl, -sə-, är’tĭ-zăn‘əl) adj.
(def.) Made by hand by a person skilled in an art.
I’ve been trying to categorize what I think I’m trying to attempt to kind of do. I found a book over the weekend called ‘Artisanal Cooking’, and, as I thumbed through it, I realized that I found the right word finally.
What is the art of barbecue?
The art of barbecue, in my opinion (and I’d love to hear yours!) is in the crafting of rubs and sauces, in the manual manipulation of fuel and flame and in applying the right amounts of woodspice (what I like to call the flavor from wood smoke). It’s knowing when to do what to a cut of meat that, without the right approach, wouldn’t be edible. It’s taking the ordinary and finding ways to use primitive methods to make it better.
The art of barbecue goes beyond the cooking. It includes sharing information with others that are interested in what you have to say (not trying to shove it down the throats of those not ready to hear it). It’s realizing that the cook has as much to do with the final product as do the ingredients. It’s a drive to always produce the best barbecue possible, no matter who is eating the end result.
What is Artisanal Barbecue?
It’s all of the above, with the added push to use base ingredients. By this, I mean making a sauce from scratch instead of doctoring up some Cattleman’s or KC Masterpiece. There’s nothing wrong with doing that, but I’m trying to make a distinction between barbecue and artisanal barbecue here. I don’t see how opening a jar of rub and putting it on a pork butt is artisanal. Getting spices, figuring out ratios and what spices to use, combining them and applying them… That’s artisanal! The same goes for sauces. We all learn from recipes, but there’s a point where the artisan steps back and starts with a clean sheet of paper, combining ingredients that they have learned go well together until the sauce is their own.
The artisan barbecuer enjoys the process as much as the result, finding something in themselves during the event of barbecuing. Whether it’s knowing what temperature the cooker is running simply by watching the smoke or understanding the feel of a done brisket, the artisan gains something from just the doing of barbecue.
I’ll be honest; there are times when I’m doing a cook when I just can’t wait to get done because something else is drawing my time or attention. But there are other times when something in me is more awake when I’m up at 4:00 AM to start cooking or when I’m watching blue smoke rise from the smoke stacks on a cold December morning, warming my hands over the firebox.
The word ‘artisanal’ doesn’t mean that it’s better than someone else’s stuff; it just means it was approached a particular way. Yes, the title ‘artisan’ implies that the results should be good, but there’s more to it than that. The artisan is the one that really understand what they do, not just someone that repeats what was told to them by someone else. The non-artisan can make something that’s really good, but it’s more a copy of what they’ve been told, and there’s nothing wrong with that at all.
Yep, that’s the word I want to use. I don’t make barbecue, I make artisanal barbecue. They can use it for breads and cheese and chocolate, why not meat?
Dang, that’s a fancy word there. But it sure is fun and I can say it does actually taste better and different. I bought 360 pounds of assorted hand-made charcoal last year, here: http://www.customcharcoal.com/
Each Saturday I make my way to the farmer’s market to talk directly with the rancher that raises some of the meat I eat. I can ask him directly how the pigs are doing, what’s going to the slaughter house this coming week and what to expect in the coming days. The animals are well taken care of and rarely come across any stress. I had a pork steak a few weeks ago that was heavenly. But this fussyness isn’t available to many, so do what you can and smile.
Biggles