A Memphis weekend of smoke, sauce and friendship
Mornings at Barbecue Fest are my favorite time, the calm before the storm. The tents are mostly empty, just hardcore cooks hanging around in latex gloves and aprons, getting their fires going, organizing their kitchens, listening to music, prepping for a long day ahead. Smells of various smoke drift through the air, mingling with music from Bluetooth speakers. Folks take time to leave their areas and take a walkabout, wandering through the Liberty Bowl parking lots, saying hey to old friends from different teams, discussing their planned menus and flavors. There’s a peaceful, easy feeling to the mornings at Barbecue Fest, which is a stark contrast to how things can feel a few hours later.
By 3:00 p.m. on Friday, I found my hands shaking and sweat rushing down my back, as I tried to balance one pomegranate seed atop each of a dozen piles of shredded lamb. A clock was ticking in my mind, knowing I had to be out of our tent and on the way to the judges’ building to submit my dish during our turn-in window. Somewhere behind me, kids were screaming and parents were tending to scraped knees. A steady stream of smoke was blowing directly into my face from an unknown neighboring grill, making my eyes water. “What happened to the mustard?!” someone yelled from behind me. I hollered back: “Bottom shelf by the smoker!” Meanwhile, I’m trying to place a seed, place a seed, place a seed. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
This is the best way that I can explain Barbecue Fest, which is actually officially named the World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest. For 50 years now, a group of grill-minded individuals from all over the world have united in Memphis in mid-May to cook meat. It’s a uniquely Memphis event, one of my favorite weekends of the year. People take it incredibly seriously, investing significant amounts of time and money to try and win awards for their cooking. The prize money is probably less than the investment, but nobody’s really there for the monetary reward—you’re there to see your friends and hang out.
I spent the last year mentally preparing for this year’s Barbecue Fest, trying to figure out how to improve upon my previous best finishes. My team asked me to take charge of two categories: Hot wings and exotics. The group I was least worried about was exotics (which means basically any meat other than beef, chicken, pork or seafood). Last year, I made lamb burnt ends and finished 22nd out of 72 teams, a more than respectable finish considering the level of competition. The thing was, I wasn’t happy with the way I actually cooked the lamb, which had good flavor but was overdone. I knew if I could nail the lamb this year, I could potentially finish even higher.
Which left the wings. Over the years I’ve prepared wings in all types of ways, from on the grill to in the oven. We eat wings regularly, and I feel confident around a wing, by which I mean I understand how a chicken wing works and what it takes to make them taste great, with tender meat but crispy skin.
After much contemplation, I developed a plan: I would smoke a lamb shoulder, then shred it, and serve the pulled lamb atop the same vessels I used last year. For the wings, I would smoke them, and then, because we were pulling out all stops, I would fry the wings in order to make the skin ultra-crisp. Then I’d toss them in some sauce, then go back on the grill to set the texture, and after artfully arranging them in the provided Styrofoam container, we would present them to the judges.
Sorting out the methods is maybe half the battle. Flavors are just as important, made doubly hard because you’re cooking for judges who are strangers, who have tastebuds with which you are unfamiliar. For the lamb, I recycled the same winning profile I used last year, drawing in cumin, fennel, coriander and pomegranate. For the wings, I chose a more classic barbecue flavoring, emphasizing sweet and savory over hot and spicy.
Part of being on a team is sacrificing, which means maybe not being able to access the grill you prefer, or having to run and wash a cutting board that someone else used. There are always last-minute adjustments—despite traveling all over the Mid-South, I couldn’t find a lamb shoulder, so I had to use a leg instead. When the poultry part of our team started prepping their chicken, I ended up manning the breading station, all while keeping an eye on my dishes.
Finally, it came time to submit. My lamb was, humbly, pretty great, much better than last year. I was excited as I plated, thinking I had a real chance of moving inside the top 20. Meanwhile, the wings were…ok? Put it this way: I made a really good chicken wing. Did it taste the way I would want my chicken wing to taste? No. But I wasn’t cooking for me, I was cooking for these unnamed judges.
Once my food was submitted, it was late afternoon, and I had had enough. While the partying at Barbecue Fest lasts all night, I stumbled out each day by sundown after spending full days there. I went home and peeled off my clothes, which were by then covered in a thick layer of grease and perfumed with the indelible scent of wood smoke. An hour in the shower did little to mitigate the odors. I was exhausted but full, both literally and emotionally. I had competed, but I’d also had a day of friendship and support and great vibes.
Four days later, I’m pretty sure I still smell like smoke. My terrific lamb dish? Out of 91 entries, I finished 62nd. Seriously? And those wings I was so lackluster about? Out of 122 submissions, I finished 34th! I’m the 34th-best chicken wing chef in the world!
I don’t know what my team’s plan is for next year, I just know my brain is already percolating with ideas. And more than anything, I’m forever grateful for all the things that make Memphis Memphis.
