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A Can And A Plan To Smoke A Turkey

Photo by MICHELLE BAKER

A turkey was the protein du jour for this week's adventure in painfully slow to cook but mouth-watering food.

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By GREG and MICHELLE BAKER

Tribune correspondents

Published: December 31, 2008

We have a smoking problem. We admit it. Shamefully, we reveal to you our dirty little barbecue secret.

The habit started small, with a Big Chief smoker in the early '90s. Greg was smoking everything in sight - pears with alder, quail with tea leaves, mozzarella with cherry - it was really a bit unseemly.

As all addictions go, what started small grew uncontrollably. We found ourselves living in Austin, Texas, and we just did not like Texas barbecue. The artistry put into the rubs used there is admirable and delicious, but the mesquite smoke was just too subtle. That admission could get a person shot down in the streets of Texas, but we were used to the highly smoky Alabama- and Carolina-style barbecue that we grew up on. Out of self-defense, we had to learn to make the barbecue that we knew and loved if we were to have it during our time in exile.

A 50-gallon barrel smoker, aka The Can, was a Valentine's gift of genius proportions, and the great smoking habit sank to new depths. Pork butts, chickens, sausages, ribs and turkeys were all sacrificed on the altar of the smoking gods. The learning curve was steep, but eventually we arrived at a blend of Texas-style seasonings with the smokiness of Alabama's hickory and oak. There was much celebration. And Texans hated it - which suited us just fine.

We happen to have a turkey in the fridge at the moment, so although you might be done with that bird until next fall, it's our protein du jour for this week's adventure in painfully slow to cook but mouth-watering food. To make this happen, you'll need a source of smoke. There are many types of smokers out there, and it can even be done with a charcoal grill, a chafing dish, or a couple of rocks and a chain-link gate. We'll not try to sway you in any particular direction, as it is a deeply personal choice. Now, repeat after us:

This is my smoker.

There are many like it, but this is MY smoker.

It is a part of me.

Without it, I am useless.

Now, we need to flavor the meat. We like dry rubs for pork and beef, but poultry really needs a brine to help keep it moist while sitting in the smoke for hours on end. We use the same flavors as our rub for the brine, so if you are going the beef or pork route, follow this method but omit the water and sugar, and decrease the salt to 2 pinches.

For the brine:

1 gallon water

1 cup sea salt

1 cup sugar

2 tablespoons chopped garlic

2 ancho chilies, ground in a coffee grinder or mortar and pestle

1 teaspoon ground allspice

1 teaspoon ground cloves

2 teaspoons fresh thyme

1 teaspoon fresh rosemary

Put all of these into a pot and boil for 3 minutes, just to dissolve the salt and sugar. Remove from heat and let it cool to room temperature.

Now put the turkey into a bucket, large pan or whatever you have on hand and put that in the fridge for 12 hours (6 hours for chicken).

Twelve hours later, go start a fire in your smoker. You want a slow, lazy fire, not intensely glowing coals. The temperature of the smoker should be kept between 200 and 225 degrees. While the fire is starting, remove the turkey from the brine, pat it dry inside and out, and truss it like you would a chicken. (Google Thomas Keller's trussing method if you have any doubts on how to do this properly.) This will help keep the breast moist while the thicker legs cook.

Put your turkey in the smoker and close it up. Don't mess with it unless the temperature gets too high (if it does, close the air holes a bit) or the smoke stops (open the air holes a bit, or add more wood). Every time you open the smoker you'll be introducing oxygen to the fire, which will make it burn hotter. Hot equals bad when it comes to smoking.

Our turkey is a 22-pounder, so we'll budget about 6 hours to reach 160 degrees in the thickest part of the thigh, which means it's done - in a way. It's perfectly edible, but leaving it on the fire for as long as your patience allows will take it past the point of a nicely done roasted turkey, and the meat will start tenderizing to that perfect, fall-off-the-bone texture that good barbecue has.

Remove the turkey from the heat, and do not even think about cutting into it for at least five minutes. Then carve with great abandon and enjoy the fruits of your 18 hours of labor. And, yes, it is so worth it.

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