In the backyard barbecue bible, it’s almost blasphemous to give an electric smoker even an honorable mention in the “Best Smoker Category.” For many of us, a smoker or grill connected to an electrical cord is an insult to all of us who have smelled wood smoke for a week because we kept our heads too close to the fire while adding charcoal.
Recently, though, I’ve become a proponent of the electric smoker, even if it seems like an effeminate way to cook a turkey, pork shoulder, or beef brisket. Electricity was invented to power light bulbs, run appliances, turn on the television, and dry hair, not to cook meat outside on the patio.
Barbecuing was always a task given to the manliest of men, those who could lift a 20-pound bag of charcoal without hurting themselves and then dump it into the bowl at the bottom of the smoker. Only the toughest of men could withstand the fumes from the burning charcoal lighter without getting seasick or sick to their stomach. Only a real man could live up to these criteria!
I did not start using the electric grill of my own free will, but rather out of necessity. My daughter-in-law had a barely used electric smoker in her garage that interfered with more important things like last year’s Christmas decorations. When she offered it to me, I initially refused, but then relented when she said she would throw it away if she didn’t take it off her hands.
The second Saturday in May last year was supposed to be a beautiful day; because that was the day I had planned for our first neighborhood barbecue of the spring! I woke up to find rain pouring down from the roof in buckets. My attentions had been to fire up the charcoal smoker and cook up some Boston Butts for about 10 hours, but this didn’t seem possible now with all the rain. I was about to cancel the barbecue when I remembered the electric grill that I had hidden in a forgotten corner of the garage.
All men, at decisive moments in their lives, have to make difficult decisions. Mine was on me. If I tried to use my trusty old charcoal smokers, the embers would soon drown due to the heavy downpour that threatened to wash away my boat that was in its trailer. I couldn’t put the smoker on the porch because the possibility of a burning charcoal fire is a possibility anywhere you’re cooking!
The electric smoker would have to do. What was the worst that could happen? She could cook the meat and if it didn’t taste right, she could finish it in the kitchen oven. Barbecue would probably be something she tasted like wet cardboard,
but I could blame my wife, saving my barbecue reputation.
With a sense of dread, I dusted off the electric smoker and carried it out onto the screened-in back porch. I filled a coffee can with hickory chips and water and put it between the heating element wands. Rain was pouring down from the roof as I plugged the grill’s power cord into the outside outlet. In just a few minutes, the item at the bottom of the smoker turned red, illuminating the bed of lava rocks on which it rested. It would have taken much longer to get this kind of heat from a charcoal smoker.
By the time I pulled out and seasoned two large Boston Butt roasts and placed them on the roasting plate, wood chip smoke was beginning to flow from the bottom to the top of the smoker. Putting the smoker lid back in place, I was amazed at how much this grill acted like a real charcoal smoker. If I were blind and walked within sniffing distance of the electric smoker, I wouldn’t know the difference between it and a real one.
The barbecue was delicious! I added more wood chips only once in the seven hours the meat was cooked. The rest of the time I watched a baseball game on TV and oiled and oiled my fishing gear. I didn’t have to add charcoal three or four times like I normally do. When I lifted the top off the grill, the meat was juicy and completely fell off the bone. Fantastic!
While I’m convinced of the ease and time savings of electric smokers, it still doesn’t sound like something John Wayne would do while camping on the prairie!
