Smokin’

Ravenous, a food column by Jennifer Brizzi

Smokin’

This column originally ran September 18, 2008, in The Woodstock Times, The Saugerties Times and The Kingston Times, etc.

The smoke of burning wood adds a flavor to food that man has craved since he first discovered that putting that leg o’ mammoth in the path of smoke made it keep longer and taste better. And foods lapped by wood smoke remain our favorites, from pulled pork to smoked turkey breast to smoked seitan for vegans, who adore the smoky flavor they can’t get from bacon.

Irresistible bacon owes much of its appeal to smoldering wood from the hickory tree, a hard nut-bearing plant that gives an assertive and unique tang to pork. Bacons smoked over milder maple and apple woods just don’t have the same kick. But hickory and the other woods all have their place, lending inimitable flavor to foods that a little bottle of Liquid Smoke just isn’t up to.

Yesterday I rubbed a 7-bone steak (a tough bony well-marbled cut of beef most suitable for braising) with celery salt, Aleppo pepper, sugar and Penzey’s Barbecue of the Americas spice mix, which contains salt, paprika, allspice, nutmeg, cayenne, black and white peppers, cinnamon, thyme and ginger. I stuck it in my Weber charcoal grill over indirect heat and smoldering cherry chips for about an hour and a half, mopping it toward the end with a combo of cider vinegar, Dijon, onion flakes, tomato paste and a splash of Worcestershire sauce. It was purely experimental and I wasn’t sure how it would turn out; I’ve grilled beef over cherry before and it has always been great, but never this cut or with this particular combination of seasonings. It was sublime—I needn’t have worried--moist, sweet and savory, with the unique sweetness of the cherrywood shining through in every bite.

A couple years ago, another smoking experiment didn’t turn out quite so well. Inspired by a trip to North Carolina, where the ‘cue is king, I decided to slow-smoke a pork butt for some pulled pork Carolina style. I did my research, and armed with 102 pages copied off the Internet, I spent nineteen and a half hours trying to coax the ten-pound picnic shoulder into succulence over a combination of hickory and applewood, trying to get it slowly to the optimum temperature of 190-200˚ F. It never got there, but thanks to the long bath in wood smoke, a tasty rub and a luscious mop, the flavor was mighty fine albeit dry from too much time on the fire. Like getting back on the horse. I meant to do it again soon but still haven’t committed myself to that time-consuming a task.

I’m no kind of slow-smoking pro, not even a grilling pro, but I like to do it whenever I can. I put hickory or applewood under my beer can chicken, hickory under my pork ribs, maple under chicken breasts. I have some pecan chunks I look forward to trying soon, maybe with duck or lamb; I don’t know yet. Pecan is said to be similar to, but subtler than, its fellow nutwood, bacony hickory.

I’m saving up for a Weber Smokey Mountain, a $200 tall bullet-shaped product that will make my smoking efforts more streamlined. It won’t cold-smoke, a way of smoking cured meat without cooking it, but a rig can be made, thanks to explicit instructions in James Peterson’s Fish and Shellfish (Morrow, 1996). I’ll smoke fish, cheese, chickens; it will be a fun adventure in experimentation.

Generally wood chips are used for foods grilled quickly or on a gas grill, the chunks for slow-cooking over charcoal or wood, but I use chips all the time on the Weber, because they’re generally easier to find. Wood sawdust is used for stovetop smoking in one of those rectangle indoor smokers, or improvised in a wok or saucepan, a technique I lack the finesse for, preferring to stick to the trusty Weber. Grilling on wood planks--like cedar under salmon--is out of the smoking category since soft woods like pine or eucalyptus are too resinous for smoking and can flare up. So the planks have to soak for a long time and lend their sap rather than smoke to the food cooked on them.

Smoked treats I have tried inspire me, from the smoked ham my parents bought in Vermont from an old man who had smoked it himself in a pungent-odored little hut that smelled rank as a burned-down house. I love anything swiny from Nodine’s Smokehouse in Goshen, Conn.; Tator’s sweet smoked shad that I buy in Red Hook every spring, pre-treated in molasses and sugar and smoked over applewood and hickory; those smoked oysters out of a can that I absolutely adore, highly underrated little critters, not universally loved but tender little tidbits. I like smoked sprats out of a can, too, smokier than a piece of fish has a right to be, and the subtler smoked salmon, of which there are a multitude of varieties: silky, salty and supreme on a bagel with the crunch of red onion and zing of capers, vies with the classic BLT in best-sandwich-in-the-world category. Peterson says the best smoked salmon is made from smoked whisky barrels that were originally used for sherry. Other great smoking fish include sturgeon, sable (black cod), bluefish, whitefish, trout, eel, sardines, herring, mackerel and tuna. Usually the fattier fish hold up better to smoking than the lean kinds, which can dry out.

There’s Popovich Provisions’ divine meaty smoked mozzarella that I’d consider going vegetarian for, even though I’m not generally a fan of smoked cheeses. Speaking of vegetarians, they like smoked tofu, smoked seitan a.k.a “wheaty,” smoked onions, peppers, cabbage, beets and corn. They smoke water to give lentil or split pea soups a smoky taste without the oink. I found a recipe online for vegan pork butt made with liquid smoke, stevia, vegan “bacon bits” and thickly sliced seitan.

Spices are smoked, too, like salt, Spanish smoked paprika and the chipotle powder I love on grilled shrimp. The Germans have been smoking the malt for their beer for a long time, and now American microbrewers have jumped on the bandwagon. Peaty Scotch would just be whisky without smoke; lapsang souchong would be just tea.

Other woods smoke food well. Steven Raichlen says in The Barbecue Bible (Workman, 1998) that aromatic grape vine trimmings are good for steaks and other meats, seafood and escargots. Wine barrel chips lend a vinous tang. Corncobs are used for bacon, seaweed for shellfish. Mesquite is very popular, especially for beef, but is a little too acrid for my taste, best for quick high-heat grilling more than slow-smoking. Hickory is strong and perfect for sweet pork. Delicate alder is said to be good for fish and chicken. Oak is hearty, good for beef and pork. Apple is too mild for bacon to my taste but good mixed with hickory for pulled pork or alone for chops or chicken. That cherry I love on beef ribs is supposed to be good for game birds and pork, too, as are sweet peach, nectarine and pear woods. Beech and olive wood are used for grilling, too. Some folks throw spices on the fire, bay leaves, nutmegs or lemon peels. Smoldering hay is a chef favorite. Construction wood scraps are not good for cooking, save them for your next bonfire; they can be treated with chemicals that are not healthy to inhale.

Although, like everything else in life, smoked foods should be consumed in moderation, they’re here to stay. I’m going to keep on experimenting and learning. In a way, every time I grill something I’m creating smoked food because I almost always grill with the top on the Weber, and smoke is generated from the charcoal. But I’ll keep soaking and throwing in those tasty chips and chunks for that sweet kiss of wood smoke.

Jennifer Brizzi | P.O. Box 48 | Rhinecliff, New York 12574 | U.S.A.

jenniferbrizzi@yahoo.com