It’s been a month since my last cook (sounds like something you’d hear at a BBQ Anonymous meeting). So far, I’ve done chicken, ribs, gourmet sausage, brisket, pork loin roast, and even a chuck roast (the last three in the pre-Bullet days on the old cheapo smoker). This time I’m trying Boston butt.

I remembered, from last time, that I didn’t want to use leftover charcoal to start the fire. (I’ve thought more about this subject since then, and have decided the real problem was that I stored the leftover charcoal in the chimney, inside the bullet, outside on the patio– humidity was the culprit.) Since this is really only half a Boston butt I’m cooking, I will fire the Bullet using regular methods. Alternate firing methods include spreading a relatively small amount of hot coals atop a bed of unlit charcoal, and letting them gradually ignite the rest. At 3.85 lbs, this half a butt won’t take as long as a whole, so I won’t need to fire the cooker for an extended period.

I prepped the butt the day before, trimming excess fat, and using a combination of yellow and brown mustards to coat the butt before giving it a good rub.

As far as rub goes, I usually just improvise mixture of paprika, cayenne, black pepper, garlic powder, onion powder and cumin to taste.

At 9:00am, I lit a full chimney of briquettes, which took a half hour to get going, and set the meat out to take the chill off it. At 9:30, I added the lit coals to the charcoal ring and added another unlit chimney-full on top of them. At 9:55am, the fire was going well and I assembled the Bullet, placing the butt on the top rack, and two 4lb. chickens on the middle grate. I used two chunks of hickory and one of oak. The temp registered 320�, but, by 10:25, had dropped down to 240, which is where I wanted to be. The temp measured through the top vent is usually about 10 to 15 degrees higher than that at the actual top cooking grate level. I cracked the bottom vents each to about 10% open.

At 11:00am, the sky opened up and poured rain for about 20 minutes. The temp dropped to 208, and I was holding my breath that it wouldn’t drop further. As I watched water run down the dome lid and sides of the Bullet, I wondered why the designers didn’t make the pieces fit the other way around– that is to say why the dome didn’t fit over the body, and why didn’t the body fit over the charcoal bowl, instead of the opposite. Water had to be seeping into the Bullet. The answer, of course, is that what drips down the inside of the Bullet would then seep out, and drip down the outside. Guess the Weber people know what they’re doing after all, and I need to go buy a big umbrella. I learned from this experience that quick temperature drops call for equally quick reactions; I opened all the bottom vents all the way, and, within 15 minutes, was back up to 239.

At 12:10pm, the temp showed signs of declining, so I stirred the coals a little. As I did, I could hear a sizzling in the bottom of the Bullet, and knew that I had rainwater in the charcoal bowl. How much was the question, but I was not inclined to disassemble everything to find out. Over the next hour and a half, the temp hung around 237�, and would not go higher, even with the vents wide open. Maybe the water in the bottom was absorbing the heat? Did I have too little charcoal? Or both? At 1:15pm, I decided to light two-thirds of a chimney-full of charcoal to give myself some breathing room in case problems arose later.

At 1:45pm, I mopped the butt with a mixture of apple cider vinegar, water, and some rub, and checked internal temps on the meat. The butt was at 149�, the chicken breast was at 150. Not much more to go on the chicken, but 190� on the butt is a long way off. I think I needed to shoot for 250� cooking temp instead of 225. The extra charcoal was ready, and, even though the fire was showing signs of recovery, I decided to go ahead and add it. I was going to need a lot more time on the butt.

The added charcoal was a mixed blessing. I had a temperature spike– to be expected– when I added it, but the next three hours would prove most vexing. From 2:45pm on, it was all I could do to keep the temperature down, and, in contrast, the butt temperature rose so slowly, it looked like it was never going to reach 190�. The chickens, on the other hand, hit 160 around 3:10pm, and I hastily removed them in an effort to avoid more temperature problems.

At 3:30pm, it started to rain again, but I suddenly remembered I did indeed have a large umbrella tucked away in the garage. I dug it out and set it up. I used one of those thick rubber bands that comes on fresh broccoli to mount the Polder to the mast. Heck, I might even have to use this set-up, rain or shine, from now on.

Over the next hour and a half, I mopped the butt twice more. At 5:00pm, the butt was at 172�, where it had remained for the past 40 minutes. 172 is considered done, although, for pulled pork, 190 is considered optimal. I considered the options at this point– I had read about Boston butt hitting temperature “plateaus” that seem to last forever– and, at 8 hours total, decided to call it a day. I removed the butt and wrapped it in foil to rest.

What have we learned? This cook had its share of challenges, but I am the better for it, having learned many lessons– the first being to check the weather before cooking. I also started with too little charcoal. The next time I do a Boston butt, I will use the alternate method of firing the Bullet mentioned above– perhaps it will give me better control– as it appears that even a small Boston butt takes a considerable amount of time. In the end, the meat was very good, and pulled easily enough. The chicken, as usual, was very tasty, but a little greasy– the pork butt rendering fat over them certainly to blame. I think I will try the beer can method on my next chickens. To cook them standing up should help– that and positioning them away from anything dripping from above.

Next time, a “complex and ambitious” cook including Boston butt, pork spare ribs and gourmet sausages.