The brisket’s done

. . . I hope.  I put it on at 14:30, and pulled it out of the smokebox at 21:00; it was about a ten-pounder (I won’t buy those fifteen-pound monsters; we can never eat ’em up in time), so seven hours should do it.  For the last hour or so I fed branches of rosemary, which I’d trimmed off the bush because it was sprawling all over hell and half of Georgia, to the fire, so we’ll see whether that added a new flavor to the meat or was just a not-to-be-repeated mistake.

(ETA:  the rosemary turned out all right; it’s barely noticeable to me, although L says she spotted an unusual flavor right off.  The meat’s a little chewy, but then brisket often is, and if you slice it thinly it’s edible.)

About Marchbanks

I'm an elderly tech analyst, living in Texas but not of it, a cantankerous and venerable curmudgeon. I'm yer SOB grandpa who has NO time for snot-nosed, bad-mannered twerps.
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