Over the weekend H and I decided that it would be fun to try out our new Mormon family sized curry cooker (much cooler than a slow cooker) and make a giant batch of real southern barbecue pork. We brought home about 8 pounds of pork shoulder on Saturday afternoon and H trimmed it, made a brine and left it to soak overnight. We woke up early on Sunday to rinse it, make barbecue sauce, and set the pork to cook for 12 hours in the sauce. About two hours in, the pork started scenting our house with the most mouth wateringly delicious smell. We kept going to peek through the glass lid to see how it was progressing. Fortunately, the cooker came with dire warnings that lifting the lid adds 30 minutes to the cooking time, because four hours in, I really wanted a taste but not badly enough to add another 30 minutes to the cooking time. Finally, we decided we had to get out of the house or the smell would drive us crazy. We went hiking, we went grocery shopping and we picked up some delicious Savanna Dry cider. In the grocery store, we were shocked to find Barbican and Maamoul cookies, familiar items from our days in Doha. And then we drove home where from outside our front door, I smelled the tantalizing scent of true barbeque. We walked inside our house where the smell blasted us full on. I turned to H and started laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“I just had an oh shit moment.”
“What do you mean?”
“There is such a pervasive smell of pork around our property and for a second I worried that someone would come investigate and catch us with 8 pounds of forbidden deliciousness.”
“Haha, you know Doha now gives driving points to people who violate their ‘morality code.’”
“Yes. I think it’s safe to say that we would lose our driver’s licenses if we were there.”
“It would be a shame too, that’s my favorite driver’s license, with the Emir on his white stallion.”
“Very true. But seriously, how good does that barbeque pork smell?”
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