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  • holehogg
    commented on 's reply
    NoPE, we've got load shedding again and I can do it by candlelight😊

  • HawkerXP
    Wow! You turning into an author now?

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  • holehogg
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    The sharp blade slid smoothly. The palm of his other hand flattening the skin as the knife cut. The other hands fingertips around the handle in a well organised grip. The steel still had inches to travel. Slow as the cut was, was still by no means perfect. On the upside it would get the job done. No question about that. Speed and efficiency was left to the pros.
    Ivor Lott used a little more force to finish the job. Put the knife down.
    “The rind is off” Ivor said “I think it’s good enough”
    “Don’t worry” Scott Jack answered “It’s only a 6 pound piece of meat I got from the store for $5. I’m sure a lot worse things would have come of it if it was in my hands”
    The hunk of meat looked like the shape of a potato with a small bone showing on the one side.
    Scott asked “What are we doing with it next?”
    “It needs a dry brine” Ivor answered looking at the kosher salt in the bowl “That’s what sets the bar”
    The counter had a large cutting board, the salt bowl and a stainless steel pan.
    Ivor reached for the bowl, lifting a pinch of salt a few inches above the butt. Sprinkling as he moved his hands over the protein.
    “What time is it?” as he placed the salted muscle into the stainless steel tray “This needs to be in the fridge for at least 12 hours.”

    Scott Jack woke up to the early signs of morning. The clock on his bedside table showing 10 minutes to six. There was a light on in the kitchen. Ivor Lott was already up.
    Out in the yard the fire idled quietly. The faint sound of wood crackling and then a shower of sparks as a fresh log was added. The flames disappearing as the firebox door closed.
    Scott slipped out of bed. Dressed and slipped his jacket on.
    All was laid out neatly on the kitchen counter. He saw a large plastic container and the stainless steel tray with the potato shaped meat and thermometers. The lid of the plastic container was removed.
    Ivor Lott leaning over the meat as he turned it over then added more rub.
    The two of them inspected that all parts of the meat were covered.
    “What’s in this rub” Scott asked “Many things I’m sure, it looks really good.”
    “You can use it on any pork” Ivor said “It’s the real deal, Meatheads Memphis Dust”
    Scott asked “When do we get to cook it?”
    Ivor Lott inserted a thermometer probe into the chunk of meat, pushing it to the center of the thickest part, not near any bone.
    By the time they had finished in the kitchen the grate temperature was on target. The meat was arranged on the grate in the cooking chamber, away from the firebox inlet.

    To the left of the smoker, two guys feeling pretty good about things sat at a table. Radio playing. Not too loud. The tunes were good. Many, many songs later, pizza and beer joined them. It was after all lunchtime.
    “I’m wondering when it’s going to be done?” Scott asked.
    “Why are you asking?”
    “I’m curious, it’s been in a long time” Scott said.
    “It’s done when it’s done” Ivor answered “We don’t cook to time. It’s all about temperature”
    The radio played on. The conversation bounced back and forth. Sometimes the laughter drowned out the music. They had stories, some funny some not. They had the smell from the cooker.
    The meat probe temperature reading remained unmoved for hours.

    The alarm beeped an hour before nightfall. The two gents covered the 10 paces to the cooker in no time. Obviously this was the first indication the meat was done.
    “That looks solid” Scott exclaimed “Do you trust the thermometer that it’s ready?”
    “Let’s check it out” Ivor whispered “I’m ready to give it a final test, stand by”
    Ivor Lott paused before removing the probe to check the temp on the monitor. Slowly pulling the probe out and then pushed it all the way into the meat again.
    “Soft as a knife through butter” he said “You need to take a picture.”


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