Comes to mind is my favorite dish, a true epicurean delight.
Not ingredients merely thrown together, the process makes it right.
The journey begins at the butcher shop, in search of a choice pork butt.
After perusing what’s in the display case, I choose the most, bestest cut.
Then off to the Eastern Market, in search of spices bold and fresh.
I manage to gather together what makes my dry rub, simply the best.
I return home laden with the treasure of my arduous trek.
Taking a moment, I pause for a bit, on my day I do reflect.
During this respite I am reminded, why I chose to prepare this dish.
It’s for those who most deeply know me, I know it’s their deepest wish.
The dry rub is on the pork butt, into the refrigerator it goes, for the night.
The process of slow cooking meat, begins hours before day’s first light.
Two hours before sun up, while all the others toss, turn, and continue to sleep.
The pit master is up caring for the coals, as though a Sheppard after his sheep.
Coals for the cooking, coals for the smoke, each require a subtle touch.
If one is not careful in tending them, either of the coals can become too much.
So it is, with great care, the pork is introduced to the environ of this cooker of low-heat.
The pit master is a true maven of techniques proven to turn pork shoulders into tender, melty meat.
The next several hours unfold, as though choreographed, well in advance.
It’s the work of a skilled pit master, moving with purpose, nothing left to chance.
And so the skilled movement continues and slowly draws to an end.
The pork shoulder now is tender and fit to present to a friend.
The pork is pulled, the slaw is dressed, the sauce is rendered sublime.
The lemonade is poured, the corn bread is cut, now come and let us dine.
The Ethereal Scupper 