Like “a moth to a flame” man gravitates toward fire. Perceivably the first thing we were able to harness and domesticate was flame. Whether a proponent of The Big Bang or a believer that “in the beginning God said,” light is the one singular constant in the universe. All else varies to some degree in the vast reaches of the infinite Cosmos but light remains unchanged and yet ever changing that which it comes in contact with. And so it is with fire and flame.
Eyewitness the calming and soothing impact a fire has as you peer into the glowing coals and embers. The dancing flames, and wafting smoke and the cares and worries of life lift from your shoulders and float away. Your thoughts are free of discourse and your body is enveloped in warmth as you stand paralyzed and mesmerized by the sight and sound of a dancing, crackling flame.
These are the moments when time and space have no meaning; when our primitive selves feel the safest and most secure from the elements and dangers of the natural world. There is nothing more primitive than harvesting our own food and then cooking it over a open live fire.
Where There’s Smoke
My fascination began when I was a boy. Dad would strategically place a few pieces of wood in the wood stove, crumple up some newspaper in between and throw a few pieces of kindling on top of the paper. Then he’d strike a wood match and place it to the edges of the paper. As the flame spread it began lapping at the kindling slivers then without warning and a flick of the hand the heavy door swung shut. A flick of the wrist he closed the damper about a third of the way and in short order the house was comfortably warm in the dead of winter.
Not long after these early memories, around the age of 5 or 6 I remember that old shutter door style stove being replaced with an Iron Horse Fire King. I call it that because it has a mural on the front doors of Promontory Point Utah where the eastern and western railroads met and Fire King is scrolled beneaths the images. Dad welded a baffle/diffuser plate just below the exhaust and put a damper in the exhaust pipe and ran it straight out the ceiling.
This hunk of iron sat in the middle of the largest room in the house and heated the entire house for over 30 years and it would hold hot coals for 36 to 40+ hours. I learned a lot about fire management and fuel consumption with this ol’ wood stove. So when I began cooking on a Weber Kettle I had to reach back into the experiential archives of fire management and fuel consumption which, was often counter to the “conventional” Kettle wisdom and instruction one learns from Backyard Pitmaster Influencers (BPIs) on YouTube and the innerweb.
I’m not implying BPIs provide bad information or incorrect instruction, what I am saying is you and I are not BPIs. We don’t have sponsors, we don’t cook in competitions, we don’t promote and sell our own brand of rubs and sauces; we simply buy what we can afford and attempt to make friends, family and the people we love the best food we know how. I have picked up many tips and tricks over the past few months from these very folks. You could say they are on the front lines, taking time from their lives, putting themselves out there attempting to bring awareness to a trade and skill that is fast dying in today’s world.
So if you see a neighbor or a group of folks rolling smoke in their backyard or in a park, don’t be a stranger. Share what you know, learn what they know and keep a skill alive that is so drastically needed in a world filled with poor food customer service and quality control since the societally induced pandemic panic of 2020. Get a cooker and get cooking!
