Today, Friday, is Andy's 30th birthday. Officially three decades for my hubby and best friend. I'm looking forward to at least seven more decades, but that's not the point of this entry.
For his 30th, my parents bought him a gas grill. Now, anyone who has watched Andy at the helm of the barbecue knows that he says charcoal is the only form of grilling. But our new apartment managers tend to disagree because, as it turns out, you're more likely to set your home on fire with charcoal than propane. So at my recommendation and their generosity, my folks opted to introduce him to the wonderful world of gas grills.
Yay a grill we can use! Some assembly required.
They assigned me the task of finding said grill and picking it out, so we wouldn't have to pay for shipping. I found the Mother Ship of all apartment grills on sale at Target. It's a three-burner Amana with side grate and a five-foot wingspan: Truly an impressive monstrosity on our small balcony. I'm breaking it in today, with my first ever smoked beef brisket. Adjusting the temperature so it cooks low and slow is proving a bit more of a challenge than I had anticipated, but so be it.
Here's the good part of the story. My friend Eve went with me to pick it up. We knew we were in trouble when it took two burly college-aged guys to lift the damn thing into the back of the pickup. There was no way that Eve - a willowy 21-year-old who looks like a supermodel - and I were going to get it out of the truck, up three flights of stairs and into the apartment by ourselves. We debated getting a couple of the maintenance guys to help out, but opted against it.
Instead, we wrapped it in the bed of the truck and left it there. When Andy got home from work, this is what he saw.
If lifting it out ain't an option, leave it in. Those little black specs are pirate stickers, and there's a gigantic bright pink bow on top of the gift. Eve and I were a little slap-happy when we undertook this wrap job.
P.S., hour one down and the brisket is looking AWESOME! It sat in a pretty intense flavor rub for 12 hours. Now it cooks for seven more hours, being - get this - misted with apple cider vinegar every hour, and this 12 pound monstrosity of meat should be ready to be pulled apart and made into sandwiches. I'll let you know how it turns out. If it's as well as every other recipe from Steven Reichland's barbecue bible, I will post it later.
P.P.S., if you're reading this and get the chance, give the man a call and wish him a happy 30th!
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