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Thursday, August 7, 2008
You Can Use Your CrockPot as a Smoker

Day 220.

Alternative title: CrockPot Smoked Brisket Recipe

I have been reading Jared’s blog, the CrockPot Alchemist, with interest this year. He has the same think-out-of-the-box (crock!) mentality I seem to have when it comes to crockpotting, and not only does he come across as an awfully nice guy you’d like to have dinner with, he is quite funny.

Jared likes things to taste smokey. He uses Liquid Smoke, and has written about how it isn’t a super-scary-chemical-concoction.

But I can’t find it. I’ve looked in about 6 grocery stores around here, and just. can’t. find. it. I’ve emailed a few people who have given me liquid smoke recipes and they can find it at Walmart. We don’t have Walmart here. I guess I need to take a Walmart field trip, which is fine by me, because they have the most comfortable tank tops I’ve ever worn, and I’d like to stock up on layering options for fall. (in case you were wondering. you may have been.)

Anyways-—since I couldn’t find any liquid smoke, and because I was spurred on by the Last Food Network Star when the comedian guy built a smoker, I turned the crockpot into a smoker yesterday.

And it totally worked.

The Ingredients.

—3-4 lbs beef brisket or comparable hunk o’ meat
—1-2 cups mesquite wood chips (depends on size of crockpot), soaked
—favorite spice rub. I used McCormick’s Roasting Rub.
—1/2 cup of water. or beer. or wine. or broth.
—parchment paper

The Directions.

Soak your wood chips in water for at least 30 minutes, and drain the water.
Spread out a good-sized length of parchment paper on the counter, and put the wood chips inside.
Fold over the edges of the paper to enclose the wood chips and make a packet, similar to a foil packet (I was worried foil would rust), that fits inside your crockpot completely.
Put it in.
With scissors, cut teeny tiny holes here and there in the top level of the parchment paper to let smoky steam escape.
Rub all sides of your meat with spice rub. Put it in the crockpot, directly on top of the parchment paper packet (lots of Ps, there).
Cover with whatever liquid you are going to use. I stuck with water.
Put the lid on and cook on low for 8-10 hours. The meat is done when it is cooked through and has reached desired tenderness. I wanted ours to fall apart, and cooked it on low for 9 hours.

The Verdict.

It worked!

The parchment didn’t disintegrate, and the wood chips never touched the meat. The brisket was flavorful and had a definite smoky flavor in each bite.

My spice rub was quite peppery, so after the first few bites, I mostly tasted pepper, but the smoke was infused.

The kids loved it, and called it “the best steak my mom has ever made in the crockpot.” It cracks me up that they included the “in the crockpot” part.

I have POUNDS of mesquite chips left, and am interested in smoking some salmon.

If there was an Elizabeth Craig cult, I would be tempted to join. The other morning a parcel arrived, a book bought through eBay. 'Cooking in Wartime' was written in the 1940's. When I read the back cover I felt myself sit up straight and reach for a sensible pinny. "Are you worried?" it asked me. "Because the butter ration won't go far? Because your family will eat meat? Because the children need puddings and cakes, but the eggs make them so dear? Because you won't have enough sugar to make jam? Because you've got a dog to feed? Because fuel costs you more? LET THIS BOOK HELP YOU - It can take that load off your mind!"

Ms Craig could be writing in 2008 and not 1941. She wants me to make satisfying tasty dishes from cheap rationed cuts. And who am I to say no? Ox cheek is being marketed in some supermarkets as a 'forgotten cut' which is an odd phrase a bit like 'heritage' vegetables. I went to the butchers to buy some. The butcher appeared to have come directly from central casting. He looked like an Enid Blyton butcher; round, red cheeked and wearing a striped navy and white apron. And when I asked for my ox cheek, small dimples popped out from his plump cheeks and he cooed at me approvingly."You won't be disappointed with this. All my older ladies love ox cheek." I left wondering whether I had now joined the ranks of the older ladies with their sensible shoes and quilted jackets, smelling of talcum powder. I shuffled home to make my ox cheek casserole.

The butcher was right. Noone was disappointed. Freddie took a mouthful, smiled and asked, "Exactly which cheek on an ox is this from?" Then he gave the dish 10 out of 10. And Alex asked for the leftover portion to be out aside for her next school lunch. And I thought that Elizabeth would have approved of us. Alex walked off to school the following morning swinging her lunch box with its hot ox cheek casserole in a thermos flask. I leave you with her stirring words, "Never allow it to be said that we British women, whose job it was to cook in the war, failed at our post. Armed with wooden spoon, basin, and saucepan we'll keep the pots boiling whatever happens."