I have never had a baby. But now I understand.
I have spent the last several months of my life looking after a small, constantly needy child actually, it has only been a few hours, but it feels like several months.
It is a healthy 6 1/2 pounder, and I have been tending to its every need, worrying about it, checking on it every few minutes to make sure it is doing fine. I don’t want its temperature to rise above 200 degrees.
I am speaking here about a beef brisket. I thought that was obvious.
As I have mentioned previously, I indulged myself for a recent significant, round-number birthday by purchasing one of those expensive kamado outdoor grills that do everything for you except walk your dog. It’s even bright red. I don’t know anything that says Late Middle-Age Crisis like an expensive toy that is bright red.
One reason for getting it is that I wanted to use it to smoke a brisket. I lived in Texas for three years and, along with accumulating many friends, I acquired a permanent hankering for barbecued beef brisket. Brisket is easy to find now at just about every barbecue restaurant in the country, but I wanted to make my own.