Kosher Blog

Barbecue brisket from an electric smoker

This was my first attempt at smoking brisket, but for the Kosher Blog’s foundational post on the subject, please see sweinberger’s Adventures in BBQ: Brisket from June 2005.

That’s enough Thanksgiving turkey — let’s talk about beef.

I discovered the Brinkmann electric smoker this summer as my coworkers talked me out of building a smoker from a galvanized trash can. For about the same price as the home-made parts, I walked into a nearby home improvement superstore and bought this guy (and a big bag of hickory chunks) on sale for a cool $60.

It’s construction is pretty simple. There’s a basin at the bottom which you fill with lava rocks, and an electric heating element sits on top of that — a few soaked wood chunks get nestled around the element. Atop the base you place the large metal cylinder which supports a drip basin and two cooking racks. A metal lid tops it off. The racks and basin clean up easily in the dishwasher, and it all comes apart for easy storage or transport.

The morning of my barbecue experience, I walked into my preferred butcher shop hoping to score a custom-cut brisket laden with fat. Unfortunately, all they had at the time were beautifully trimmed flat-cut briskets, so the butcher packed one up with a few hefty slices of fat he had just removed from a rib eye. The fat would provide necessary insulation during the initial cooking and baste the meat throughout. Using a recent Cook’s Illustrated article on Texas brisket as a guide, I cut crosshatches in the fat, slapped it on the meat, and seasoned it (pretty conservatively) with a brown sugar and black pepper rub.

Meanwhile, my hickory was soaking. The smoker uses chunks rather than chips for more sustained smoking, and I prefer hickory to the also-widely-available mesquite, which provides too harsh a smoke for my taste.

With all the components ready, I plugged in the smoker, added my wood chunks, filled the drip basin with water, and loaded the racks with tasty meat.

I also gingerly inserted the probe to my meat thermometer so I could keep track of the temperature every so often. (The brisket’s connective tissue gives up its futile battle against the heat at 195 degrees.)

In all, the brisket smoked for five hours (and I replaced the wood chunks once in the middle). By the early evening, the outdoor temperature had dipped and the Patriots game had started, but my brisket just wouldn’t move past 170 degrees, so I quickly moved it into a foil tray, sealed the top, and finished it in a low oven. Finally! The meat was no match for a long serrated knife, and each thin slice revealed the coveted, pink smoke ring — well, in my case, they were more like smoke stripes, but I was proud anyhow.

A quick dip in some homemade barbecue sauce, and this brisket was ready for consumption: a heaping pile of meat on a soft, seeded bun with a smattering of bread & butter pickles (plus a couple pickled jalapenos). It was heaven, and the leftovers made the best lunches I’ve ever brought to work.