My sister-in-law goes to a Supernatural convention every year. Not only does just getting there cost her thousands, she gets her picture taken with some of the actors at $350 a pop.
Christ. I started the weekend with 200 mushies and 2 bottles of bourbon. Now I have none. Weekend: 1, Me:0
Tom Savini turns out to be kind, articulate, a listener. He's a people person if there ever was one. Extremely nice guy. Not handsome, but nice.
I tried making ribs on my Weber grill for the first time today- real barbecue. I dry rubbed them last night and kept the heat around 250 degrees for almost five hours. Lots of cherry and maple scraps were added for smoke flavor. Oh yeah it was the perfect opportunity to smoke some of the venison brats I made and grill some corn on my little Weber too. Spoiler I have to do this again. Little less sugar and cajun seasoning in the rub next time, but holy shit was I surprised at how well the ribs turned out.
Had some pork grilled over cherry wood, fucking delicious. And now bug spray mixed with beer, mean's summer is here.
Cherry has become one of my favorite woods for smoking now. Perfect with beer can chickens. I have a lot of hickory on hand too and use it frequently too.
Is it just me or have these been the "hail-mary-goal-in-the-last-minute-of-the-third-period" playoffs?
Re: Re: Weekend Drunk Thread, 6/7 Beer can chicken is bullshit but if you think you make better chicken that way more power to you. Hickory and a good BBQ rub is all you need. Beer is for drinking, not cooking
Whatever, you can't even taste any difference between the different kinds of wood anyways. Smoke is smoke.
Mesquite and hickory are vastly different than fruit woods. They really do smoke much drier. Beer can chicken *is* bullshit too. Rotisserie that sumbitch. I've never had a more tender, flavorful bird than using a rotisserie. Amazing. Once again the French know how to cook something. They can't bbq for shit, but everything else, you'd be a fool to dismiss them. Guinness Stew. Beer gravy. Witbier Mussels. Stout BBQ sauce. Beef Carbonnade. Honkey, please.
Got off work at 2:30 and went straight to the bar. Can't remember the last time I've had a conversation that lasted that long. Me and two other guys just sat outside the entire time while people dropped in and out. Cool guys. Anyway, I'm shit faced. Tits?
Holy. Fucking. Shit. I am amazed that such a level of irony failed to reach into the physical universe and create a multiversally apocalyptic shockwave. Oh, and switching to bar soap after years of using body wash? Have fun with your skin feeling absolutely wrong.