What a jerk!

I've suspected this for some time, but it's on a t-shirt, so it must be true. I'm going to substitute bacon for brussels sprouts from now on.

Well, my kitchen has gone from smelling like root beer, to smelling like jerk, to now smelling a lot like mesquite smoke. Here's how it all went down.

When my buddy said he was getting a smoker-grill, I immediately started craving a Jamaican jerk recipe I had read about back in the cold weather months. Today was the day, and with only a couple of hours before grill time, I rushed out to pick up a few essentials and mixed up the fiery paste that would transform a pork tenderloin into an amazing mouth-watering morsel bursting with flavor. The recipe is worth repeating here. The smell was intoxicating, the spicy heat built up a little, but mellowed out into a nice tasty burn. 7 out of 10 on the spice scale. Adjust the number of peppers if you need to.

4 habanero pepper, stemmed
1 bunch green onions, cleaned and chopped
1 inch fresh ginger, peeled and sliced
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 teaspoon dried thyme, 1 T fresh if you have it
1 1/2 tsp freshly ground allspice
1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1/4 tsp freshly ground nutmeg
dash cinnamon
2 T vinegar
1 T soy sauce
1 T vegetable oil
1 T salt
1 heaping tsp brown sugar

Put it all in a blender or processer and whirl until blended. This is enough for 2 pork tenderloins, butterflied and pounded to about 3/4" thick. Jab the meat all over with a chopstick or the end of a wooden spoon to form little pockets. Smear the marinade on, making sure to fill the holes, cover it with plastic wrap so the plastic clings to the meat, and refrigerate for a few hours, turning occasionally. Over a medium-hot grill with plenty of wood smoke, it takes about 8 or 9 minutes a side. A bigger cut of meat would be a good candidate for smoking with this marinade.

This was all a prelude to the main course, the amazing and beautiful beer can chicken. Believe the hype, it's all true. This was the most delicious bird I've ever had on the grill. The smoker was hovering around 200 degrees, and we worried it wouldn't be hot enough, but the two hours spent in the mesquite smoke bath were worth every minute. The can of beer up the bird's rear end keeps the moisture up, steaming it from the inside and wetting down some of the dry rub. The smoke is key; it browns the outside and carries the flavorings all the way through the meat.

I am now the proud owner of the carcass from that beer can chicken, and it was pointed out by my dear friend and fan of hearty cold weather food, that it would make a really tasty stock to go into a pot of gumbo. Pure genius. I'll freeze the stock until gumbo season or until my kitchen drops below 80 degrees, whichever comes first.