Bidets, Briskets, Christmas, and 2012


So I know it’s been awhile since my last post, but I’ve got a few reasons. First, I’ve been busy. Second, we actually went through an extended period (like 4 days) without internet at the house, and I don’t think my company issued blackberry had the juice to handle a blog for me.

In any event, since my last musing, we have been through Christmas and New Years, and most everyone was officially back at work today. I hope you and yours had a great Holiday season filled with good food, good drink, family, friends, and peace.

As part of our Christmas, the wife and I went away for the night and stayed at the Woodlands. It was sort of an experience for us, in that we elected to leave our collective 200lbs of dog home alone for the night with the assumption that they would probably sleep while we were gone. Reader, this may not sound like a big deal to you, but we have never left them home alone at night before, and we knew it could potentially be dangerous for our belongings. Let’s just say that when I got back in the AM to check on them, I was greeted at the door by a few animals who had evidently spent the entire night waiting at the front door wondering where we were. Now fortunately, there wasn’t any destruction that we found, but a few days earlier, we learned that the dogs don’t particularly care for newly purchased bestsellers. Thus our misgivings. Below please see exhibit A.

Seriously!? You ate the new book when it's sitting next to 50 old ones??


Pup, Stack, and Boo

I can’t prove it, but I think it was Pup based on her nerves when we got back that day.

Looks a little guilty to me.

But I digress. Back to the hotel. We had a great room that had a sitting area and large bathroom that had a large glass shower and separate jacuzzi tub. Next to the toilet we had one of these.

These things are weird. Guess the French invented these based on an abundant population of lactose intolerant people?

I really don’t get it. Neither does the wife by the way. I cranked it up the the max to see what would happen, but can’t understand the physics of it. As it was very low pressure. I guess you’re just supposed to splash your arse with the water when you’re not feeling so fresh. Sigh. The French strike again.

Lastly, the first brisket I cooked in 2012 did not turn out as planned. I started with my usual prep. Finding a fairly uniform certified angus beef brisket and prepping with a dry rub.

Could have been great.

I got my rub put together and spread it all over the brisket. Then wrapped tightly and let it get happy for about 4 hours. Meanwhile, my brother-in-law and I cleaned the grill and got our lump hardwood charcoal ready and soaked our applewood chips for the smoke box. Our intent was to put the naughty bastard on the grill about midnight and cook/smoke for about 10 hours, or until the brisket started to break down and get tender

The soon to be scene of the crime.

I guess the reader will notice that there is no coal in the center of the grill (large grill by the way) which is where I cook the brisket (I move one grate to the center to keep the meat removed from direct heat). I also should add that I cook around 225-250 degrees in this method so as to allow the meat to get tender via the low and slow method. Boys and girls, the plan was good, but the execution was definitely lacking.

Here’s the aftermath.

I used to be all black.

And here-

Looks like we had some intense heat here. That black smear you see there is what we in the business refer to as Brisket Flambe.

For you brisket rookies out there, Brisket Flambe can evidently occur when a catch pan under your brisket fills up with some fat and is then ignited by a stray spark. By the way, my brisket was only on the grill for 1.5 hours. Bad luck or operator error. Your choice. I did save about 60% of the meat, which coincidentally looked like a football that was left in the cafeteria at the Chernobyl Plant before I trimmed the char off and made a shredded brisket mix out of the remainder. Was still good, but not what I planned on.


I plan to post more in 2012 and appreciate you checking out my blog. Thanks again for reading. I wish you all a Happy New Year.



The Woodshed


Thanks for stopping by my first post. As far as the content you can expect, the Out Behind the Woodshed team will do its best to keep it interesting, and plans to touch on a number of topics. Mostly what I feel about talking about at that particular time. And make no mistake, this will potentially be about absolutely nothing beyond some inspired rantings by a guy whose best hair days are long behind him.

However, the beauty of being Out Behind the Woodshed, is that what happens behind the woodshed, stays behind the woodshed. At least most of the time.

Our first order of business will be to introduce you to one of the Woodshed’s mascots. The magnificent bullhound, Beulah. “The Boo” will probably be a frequent guest poster.


One of the mascots, you ask? Well, there is more than one mascot, but I felt like I needed to go with the most photogenic for our first entry. Thank you for the pose.

Blossom, our Catahoula, is what they refer to as an acquired taste. More on “Ole Crazy Eyes” later.

Like my fancy pants?

And our last mascot, the one one with the biggest identity crisis, is Short Stack. Adopted at 4 weeks, he never made the connection that he’s actually not a dog. He’s now about 17 lbs of “I won’t even think about burying that Saint Bernard sized cat turd” in his litterbox.

Go ahead. I dare you to touch my stomach. Seriously. Double. Dog. Dare. You.

Don’t worry, I’m not some strange animal nut, but we do have some pretty interesting conversations with these guys, and if they had thumbs they’d be pretty formidable.

And speaking of formidable, you should see my friend’s blog — — he’s got some great reviews on beer, some porktastic recipes, and slightly irreverent humor for your online enjoyment.

I also plan to document some of my experiments outside on the grill; so if this:

9.5 lbs of certified black angus brisket goodness...

or this:

Low and slow baby!

cooked on this:


is in your wheelhouse, then I think we’ll get along just fine.