Winter smoking

I woke up at 7 am, and it was cold, in the low 20s, and my bed was
telling me to stay put. The air in the house was chilled, and I knew it
was much colder outside. Since I don’t get up as spryly as I did in my
youth, I moan and groan into a pair of jeans and an old flannel shirt,
putting on shoes and a jacket before daring to open the front door.
Armed with a torch and newspaper, I venture out, though, and get hit
with cold air as I open the door. Refusing to let this deter me, I open
the garage and get some charcoal into a chimney by the smoker, lighting
the newspaper and getting things going.

Loading up the firebox with wood and some charcoal, I head back in to
get 4 briskets ready to put on. As I check the smoker a bit later, I
notice that the frost is melted off the smoker, and the metal is warm
to the touch. Putting the chimney in the firebox (I start it in the
main chamber to get it heated), the cherry and hickory wood waiting for
the heat of the coals quickly starts to smoke, and I get my first face
full of the day.

The meat goes on the smoker, and the temps are running just right. It’s
now loaded with 4 briskets and 4 butts, and sweet blue is rolling
through the woods from the 2 stacks. My wife gets up after sleeping in
a bit, and I decide to run into town for some breakfast. The town is
just waking up, a town over 200 years old, Christmas decorations
everywhere, shop owners getting ready to open for a busy
antique-shopping day. The kid at the coffee shop is friendly instead of
a punk, and doesn’t seem upset that he has to bring my espresso out to
the car.

As I drive back home, the sun coming up over newly harvested fields,
the cold is still apparent in the frost showing on the trees. The
heater is pumping out warm air that’s just a bit too warm, but feels oh
so good, knowing how cold it is outside the car. As I pull up the lane,
there’s the smoker, pumping out just the right amount of smoke, and I
smell that wood smoke when I get out of the car.

Today’s a good day. I miss my dog still, but days like this make life
good. My wife greets me when I walk in.  Now bread is baking, hickory and cherry smoke is wafting past the windows, and I’m about to go put more wood on the fire.