From Our Kitchens: Barbecuing is a time-honored, team effort

My earliest recollection of barbecue is smelling the hickory smoke from a pit of roasting pork on a farm outside of Atlanta while on a dove shoot with my dad in the late 1950s or early ‘60s

That smell is a bit like the first taste of beer I had while riding across the crystal-clear grass flats of Homosassa, Florida, in a wooden skiff with my dad when I was in the third grade.

 Something about that first smell of smoke and that first taste of beer seems to be indelibly imprinted in my memory. I think I have been searching for that smell and that taste ever since.

Growing up in Atlanta, barbecue to me meant an outside, sliced pork sandwich with a side of Brunswick stew from the Old Hickory House. A slightly sweet, oniony sauce and stew you could eat with a fork.

My dad was from Macon, so we made frequent trips to Macon to visit with his mother and sister. This was before I-75 was built. These trips often included getting lunch at the Pig and Whistle in Macon or a stop at Fresh Air Barbecue in Jackson on our way home. 

While in college in Laurinburg, North Carolina, in the mid-1970s, I lived in an old farm house out in the country where we “lived off the land.”  My roommates and I decided we wanted to roast a whole pig and have a horseshoe tournament. We had great aspirations to do the pig pickin’ from start to finish; find the pig, slaughter it, scald and scrape it and roast it whole in our own pit.

In the process of choosing the pig at the hog farm an older gentleman came up to us and asked, “Y’all gonna cook a pig?” He had a french fry boat full of shredded pork in his hand. 

He said “Ole [So and So] makes the best around here” and he offered me a pinch. There was no visible sauce, only red pepper flakes mixed in with the pork. That taste was a revelation to me. Like the smell of hickory smoke and that first taste of beer. Wow! That was really good. 

The old man offered to help us, which we gladly accepted. After scalding and scraping the pig, building the cook pit and the fire pit he taught us how to keep the coals just right by listening to the frequency of the sizzles as the fat slowly rendered from the pig and dripped on the hot coals.

The only sauce was a basting sauce of vinegar, salt, red pepper flakes and a touch of sugar. That simple sauce, along with the hickory smoke, highlighted the star of the show, the pig.

Through the years wandering the woods of the Southeast looking at trees, I have had the opportunity to eat at countless barbecue joints — from small shacks serving lunch to local farmers and timbermen to large family style restaurants serving hundreds of people. 

Sauces of vinegar and pepper in eastern North Carolina, with a little touch of ketchup added in the western part of the state, mustard based sauces in South Carolina and parts of Georgia, slightly sweet and spicy sauces in Georgia and Alabama. Sides of Brunswick Stew and barbecue hash on rice.

Somewhere around Monk’s Corner, South Carolina, I encountered my first barbecue hash, a greyish stew served over rice. It was awesome. I asked the owner what was in it and he said, “Awe, it’s just hog’s head stew.”

I bought my first Big Green Egg from Ed Fisher in 1985. Ed advertised them in the sports section of The Atlanta Journal Constitution. At that time, they were big clay pots and they were painted a flat green color that looked like it would glow under a black light. I have had several since then. They are now ceramic and much higher quality. They are a great way to smoke pork butts, ribs and chicken.

My good friend, Roland Neel, is the owner of Mrs. Griffin’s Barbecue Sauce in Macon, the oldest barbecue sauce in the United States. Mrs. Griffin’ s was one of the sponsors of Bubba Grills from Haddock, Georgia, in the 2025 Memphis in May International Festival and World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest. 

This past weekend, there were 150 teams from 22 states and four foreign countries competing in Memphis. Lonnie Smith, the owner of Bubba Grills, asked Roland to bring three of his friends to Memphis to be part of the cooking crew. Roland asked me if I wanted to join him, Josh Neel and Art Barry, and I gladly accepted.

Bubba Grills has won many awards at various barbecue competitions. Last year, they placed first in the Kingsford Tournament of Champions at Memphis in May and second in the whole hog competition. 

Lonnie and his team were determined to win the whole hog competition this year. Their preparation, techniques and attention to the tiniest of details were eye opening for me. This was more than just roasting a pig in a pit, this was an international competition. 

Unfortunately, Bubba Grills didn’t make the finals. The competition was fierce. Second place in the whole hog competition went to the team from Dexter Meats, in Dexter, Georgia, ironically the supplier of Lonnie’s hogs. Although not winning was a heartbreak for the Bubba Grills team, the whole experience was gratifying. 

Working together as a team, eating together and sharing stories was like being with family. Lonnie will be back next year even more determined to win.

Whether in the woods, in a field, or in your backyard,  barbecuing is a timeless way to get family and friends together for fun and fellowship.  

Barbecue sauce

One of my favorites for pulled pork or ribs.

Ingredients

• 2 Cups white vinegar (or 1 cup white + 1 cup apple cider vinegar)
• 3 Thin slices lemon
• 1 Tablespoon fresh ground black pepper
• 1 1/2 Teaspoons cayenne pepper
• 1 Teaspoon sweet paprika
• 1 Teaspoon ancho chili powder
• 1  Teaspoon red chili flakes
• 1/4 Teaspoon white pepper
• 1/4 Teaspoon white sugar  

Directions

Mix all ingredients in a porcelain or stainless steel sauce pan. Bring to a simmer then turn off the heat and let it cool. Remove lemon slices. Use this as a finish sauce by adding to a smoked Boston butt while you are pulling and shredding it. Add a tablespoon or two of ketchup, if you like. No other sauce needed.