And so it begins...
First, the bad news: some people, namely my dad, somehow got wind that I bought a smoker. I got guilt tripped, and, long story short, my maiden voyage wasn't committed with a nice rack of beef ribs, but a freaking 2 1/2 pound pork rib roast that was foisted upon me under duress.
"...but BOAH, we feed you all the time. We
RAISED you. Is asking for a nice smoked rib roast too much to ask?"
"I don't like pork all that much. I want my beef ribs."
"...I guess you just don't care about us. Nevermind that a smoked rib roast is something I've waited my entire life to try. Next step is probably the old folks home for us, huh?"
"OKAY, FINE! GAW! I'LL COOK THE DAMN RIB ROAST!"
I'm only
slightly exaggerating for humorous effect, by the way. Never saw so many hangdog expressions floating around a single room in my life. It was like an intervention, staged for selfish reasons. At least they bought the thing themselves.
So, I smoked the rib roast. Despite the fact it was an impromptu change, so I didn't get to marinate the meat as long as I'd like (8 hours instead of a full day), and it was my first try smoking anything, it didn't turn out too half bad.
It spent 5 hours in the smoker at around 250 degrees. My only complaint is that it was a little dry, but I'm sure that's something I can fix with a bit of reading up and experience.
I'm happy with it. I cooked something, and no one died.