Kathleen and I had a Sahidi Sisters photoshoot last Wednesday; her coworker Karena is also a photographer and wanted to shoot dancers. I completely butchered Karena’s name last week, so I apologize.
Karena sent us an email on Saturday morning with a whole slew of photos she took. I went through them quickly and found a few immediately that I loved.
Photo credit Karena Webber
The photos that I loved were ones when we were actually dancing or some that looked mysterious. We put all of ourselves out there when we dance, sharing everything we have, including our hearts; it was nice to see a little mystery in the photos.
Photo credit Karena Webber
I found the ones that focused on our faces or specific parts of our costumes some of my favorites. I loved the shots of us both of us holding a flamenco fan. I love flamenco dance and music. I tried studying it myself online, but I need a real teacher in person to really learn. Many of our dance moves come off flamenco dance, so it feels almost natural to me.
Photo credit Karena Webber
I laughed when I saw some of the photos…I am pretty tan, but not my belly. Karena offered to photoshop my belly and add a tan, but I didn’t need her to do that; it’s life. Real-life photos of real people.
Photo credit Karena Webber
There are so many photos of Kathleen that I love; she’s so photogenic! There are a couple of the two of us that I love too. Although, of course, I am always hard on myself and should have had better posture in some photos, the ones that focused on my whole figure weren’t my favorite; at least I can accept that’s how my figure is right now.
Photo credit Karena Webber
Returning to dance completely has given me my groove back. That little sass in my walk again and a big smile on my face! 🥰
End of the photoshoot. I love this photo…check out my white belly! 😂 Thank you so much Karena Webber
I love summer! It’s my favorite time of the year—way back when I spent countless days at the pool or the beach. When our boys were young, I took them almost every day to a pool, lake, or beach with Marty.
When I was young, I didn’t have to readjust my schedule to make time for the pool or going down the shore; I just did it. No guilt. They were carefree summer days.
When I was a full-time mom, I did everything I needed to get done early in the morning, packed everything up, and we spent the rest of the day, sometimes until 6 pm, at the rec pool or lake. No guilt. Sort of carefree summer days, at least as carefree as a mother of two young boys could be.
A couple of years ago, I realized why I wasn’t enjoying my summers anymore…I didn’t spend afternoons going to a lake, pool, or beach anymore since the boys are all grown up.
As I am older, I don’t particularly appreciate swimming in lakes or rivers…too many bugs. Lol. We don’t have a pool, even though we’ve considered getting one. We both know we realistically wouldn’t use it enough with the short Vermont summers and many iffy weather days.
I now realize that I’m not really missing the pool or lake; I am actually missing those carefree summer afternoons to relax in the sun and work on my tan. However, I still miss going down the shore and the beach a lot! Marty and I both do.
A couple of years ago, whenever I saw we were going to have a sunny & beautiful afternoon, I would plan on going to the “pool.” The pool was just a metaphor; it means I would sit in the sun and work on my tan, cooling off with a mister from the garden hose. Guilt-free.
Last summer, during the pandemic, I forgot about the “pool” since I wasn’t in the mood to lounge around carefree all afternoon. I didn’t care if I had a tan; it didn’t matter. We did have a campfire every night, though, which was awesome. “Campfire” was another metaphor for going camping.
This year I remembered my imaginary pool. I picked up right where I left off two summers ago. I put on some shorts and a bikini top, grab my towel, hose mister, stereo, and head outside. Carefree summer days!
“Does anyone need anything before I go to the pool?” That is my way of telling the guys that I’m off duty. I still get everything done earlier in the day, so I can at least get outside by 4 pm and stay at the “pool” until about 6 pm. Guilt-free.
Is it silly I say I’m going to the pool? My imaginary pool is what has given me my carefree summer days back. Having somewhere to “go” inspires me to get stuff done and to relax and enjoy our short Vermont summers to the fullest. I invite Marty to come to the pool with me; he did on Saturday after the farmers market. Yes, he squirted me with the hose. LOL!
Holy moly, the petunia hanging baskets that I got at the produce wholesale market back in May are growing like crazy. This is how my hanging baskets are in August! I love them and can’t believe how big they are already. The woman Lisa that I bought them from again this year has the most amazing flowers!
Every day I give each of them a whole watering can of water and give them both pep talks. I pluck the petunias that are dried up so more flowers can bloom. Fingers crossed they stay nice for the rest of the summer. Have I mentioned how much I love summer? 😎
Another week got away from me; I wanted to share with you that I finally succeeded in making smoked bbq chicken thighs.
I brined the thighs longer this time, about 6 hours. For this brine, I used kosher salt, granulated sugar, and water. Sometimes I use brown sugar, but I didn’t this time.
I made a simple rub with kosher salt, granulated garlic, onion powder, smoked paprika, regular paprika, black pepper, and a little brown sugar.
I patted the thighs dry after coming out of the brine with paper towels and sprinkled the rub on all sides of the thighs.
I lit the hard lump charcoal and noticed a couple of small pieces of pecan wood from the week before. I left them in there and didn’t add any more.
After I got the temperature of the smoker up to 250 degrees, I got the thighs on. This time I inserted a meat thermometer into one of the thighs. I wanted the thighs to be cooked to at least 165 degrees, but they could go longer if they weren’t done.
I let chicken thighs do their thing and kept checking the temp of the smoker and the chicken as well. I rearranged the thighs about 45 minutes into the cook. This is to help the chicken cook evenly by moving pieces around the hot and cooler spots on the grill.
I had a spray bottle of apple juice and apple cider vinegar handy just in case I need to cool the chicken down a bit if it was cooking too fast. I didn’t need it.
I turned them over and back again a couple of times before they reached the color and temperature I wanted. Finally, I used a brush to glaze the chicken thighs with a sweet and spicy glaze I made.
I took the thighs off the smoker and glazed them again on both sides, and let them cool. I reheated them just before dinner. Everyone thought the flavor good, and the smoke was just the right amount. They were delicious. Yay!🤗
The only thing I want to work on is the skin. While it looked golden brown, it was a bit rubbery and didn’t crisp up even in the oven. Marty reminded me that places we’ve been to reheat their smoked chicken wings in the deep fryer, making the skin crispy.
I don’t think I would want to fry larger chicken pieces deep, but I’d try it if I were doing a batch of smoked chicken wings. It won’t ruin the flavor; it will just make it nice and crispy how we like our wings.
I used the leftover chicken thigh meat for smoked chicken and bacon quesadillas for lunch one day. They were outstanding! All in all, I give myself a B+. Not bad for the second try.
I think pork spare ribs will be the next thing we attempt. I say attempt because smoking pork and chicken are two different things. I’ll have to start reading up and watching more YouTube videos.
We have a large rack of St. Louis style spare ribs in the freezer that we picked up not too long ago at Restaurant Depot, which will be perfect for experimenting with.
Me literally jumping for joy that my dishwasher is finally fixed!
Guess what? Our dishwasher is finally fixed as of this morning. Some people may be like, “suck it up bitch” a lot of people don’t have one, right?
I didn’t have a dishwasher until we bought this house in ‘04 and give thanks for it after every meal I cook. I’ve cooked thousands of meals in my kitchen literally. (I figured it out one day during the lockdown, I must have really been bored) That is a lot of dishes. I’ve washed a lot of those dishes by hand because they are too big since they are commercial size, or they don’t all fit in the dishwasher at once. I’ve made three meals a day, almost every day since we had kids 25 years ago.
All that being said, I do over two solid hours of dishes in our production kitchen every day we make spätzle. Big, hard to clean, heavy dishes all done to proper sanitation standards. I love making spätzle, but I honestly hate doing the dishes. Music is what gets me through it.
I got so tired of the dishwasher not being fixed and Marty getting the run around from the local appliance store we bought our dishwasher from. He told me when I asked about it again that I was welcome to call. So I did on Tuesday afternoon.
Marty didn’t have luck speaking with anyone nice when he called and basically got a bunch of attitude and no answers.
When I called, I decided to play the nice, confused, out-of-the-loop wife that just needed to know what was happening. I went over the story that I “knew” and said that I decided to call on the 4 week anniversary of our broken dishwasher with a laugh. Luckily she laughed and apologized. Next, I told her I thought maybe we just slipped between the cracks. She said she would speak to the parts manager and wished me a nice day.
Yesterday the owner called Marty back and said the repair guys would be here at 11 am. They were actually 10 minutes early. The whole repair took less than 15 minutes. Why it took 3 1/2 weeks to come when we are less than 15 minutes away from the store is beyond me. Now that’s it’s fixed, it doesn’t really matter.
Marty doesn’t think my call had anything to do with the dishwasher getting fixed. I completely disagree.😜 I may have just spoke to the right person at the right time of the day. My tone & attitude may have been just right and rubbed the person the right way. The call could have turned nasty and sour on a dime if she ignited my Jersey girl flame, but she didn’t, thank goodness for that. Never make a Jersey girl mad. Just sayin’. 😂
Now we can stop eating on paper plates and bowls, which I hate, by the way. I can also make meals that require more than one pan! Cooking and mealtime are so important to me; that’s why the last 4 weeks have sucked.
Sam is not working tonight, so I can finally make a meal that he loves that requires lots of dishes. I’ll still do some pans by hand, but everything else will go into the dishwasher.
Tonight on the menu…Chicken Fried Pork with White Country Gravy, Mashed Potatoes, Buttered Corn, and Stuffing since Marty loves it.
White country gravy is done when it leaves a path in the pan from a spoon. Sam doesn’t like mashed potatoes, he likes riced potatoes he’s a pain in the ass! LOL Before and after of the chicken fried pork.After breading them and letting them “dry” on a rack and not directly on a pan makes both sides crispy.
As far as me not having faith in small local businesses because of this situation? I certainly wouldn’t recommend this place to anyone; however, I’ve taken the high road and never mentioned their name or location. I will still try to support local businesses in the future, but when it comes to making big purchases, I will look at reviews and ask a lot of questions before we spend our hard-earned money.
Sam came home at dinner time and looked around the kitchen with a big smile on his face. He was so happy I made him one of his favorite meals. He wolfed it down so fast and kept saying how good it was. I am a very happy Mama Julz indeed! ☺️
Yesterday Kathleen and I had a belly dance photoshoot done by one of her coworkers. It was fun, relaxed and I think she got a lot of excellent shots.
As I was doing my hair and makeup, it was just like riding a bike. I used to get ready a few times a month; we haven’t had a gig since 2019. Everything came together very quickly and was effortless.
Bare naked face…hair and makeup done
I was happy with the way my hair and makeup came out. I had everything organized and packed; I just had to put on my costuming and jewelry when I got to the dance studio.
Corrina took some photos of us putting on the finishing touches in the big studio mirrors. She looked around where she wanted us to dance, looking for the perfect light. The studio is in an old warehouse with brick walls and large paned windows.
I threw on some music, and we started dancing; Corrina started snapping photos. Since we do improv dance, it didn’t matter what I put on; we can dance to anything. I can’t tell you how special it felt to dance with Kathleen finally; I mean really dancing.
Our dance style uses a lot of cues and transitions, but eye contact is also key. I haven’t stared into her eyes for a performance in a year and a half. When we dance improv, you get into each other’s energy and lock eyes when we face each other; sometimes, she will give a wink, which makes me laugh out loud every time she does. The audience doesn’t know why I am laughing, but they know we are having a good time.
Corrina took photos in the studio for an hour, then we went outside and took a few pictures with our silk veils. It was hot and humid, but my makeup held up well. The setting mist that I bought right before the pandemic really worked!
After we were done with the photoshoot, we said goodbye to Corrina and thanked her. Then we headed off to Kathleen’s house to hang out until it was time for our other class. We’ve been doing this every week; even if I run errands in between classes, we still have at least an hour to catch up. I’ve missed my dance sister time a lot.
A Sahidi Sisters us-ie photo
Kathleen and I, plus all the other Sahidi Sisters that no longer dance with us, used to spend a lot of time together. We used to dance on Monday nights for about two and a half hours, plus a couple of hours at our regular classes later in the week. We also spent a lot of time driving to gigs together and hung out at whatever gigs we were at. We also did things socially…we have a lot of great memories and stories.
We kept most of our costuming on for class; it was great dancing dressed up in real dancewear, not practice gear like we usually wear to teach in. It’s very different dancing in a skirt as opposed to legging. Our large 35-yard skirts are gigantic, and when we spin, they take a few seconds to catch up. It’s not something I can describe, but if Corrina got a few good shots of us spinning, that might explain it a little better.
70 total yards of skirts that are tough to fit in the drivers seat.
When I was driving home at 8 pm, the sun was still out; it felt like I really danced like I used to. As I was driving, I really felt like I got my groove back on with my sunglasses on and my skirts barely fitting in the driver’s seat with me.
As soon as Corrina does some editing and emails us some photos, I’ll share them with you guys.
Last week I watched a YouTube video from the movie The Greatest Showman. It’s one of my favorite movies, but this video was different. It was a performance before the movie was made. It was like an audition for a bunch of big wigs and producers…trying to get them to pony up and want to back the movie.
The singer Keala Settle was there to sing one of the songs from the show with The Greatest Showman ensemble. She wasn’t auditioning for the movie or the role, even though she ended up with it.
I teared up when I watched the video, which isn’t a surprise because I am a crier when I see emotional movies or commercials. The song and the lyrics ran through my head for a few days. I read the lyrics and listened to the song again. The song is called, “This is me!”
Partial lyrics to “This is me.”
I am not a stranger to the dark Hideaway, they say ‘Cause we don’t want your broken parts I’ve learned to be ashamed of all my scars Runaway, they say No one’ll love you as you are but I won’t let them break me down to dust I know that there’s a place for us For we are glorious when the sharpest words wanna cut me down I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown ’em out I am brave, I am bruised I am who I’m meant to be, this is me Look out ’cause here I come And I’m marching on to the beat I drum I’m not scared to be seen I make no apologies, this is me
The song made me realize that I needed to accept myself for how I look right now. I was the one in the song tormenting, cutting down, and bruising myself emotionally.
This blog post has taken a while for me to write; it’s about acceptance. I won’t waste my time or yours making up excuses; I’ll get right to the point. I quit working out plain and simple.
Ok, I’ve publicly admitted it; after all my blog is about my life…being honest and authentic. Surely I am not the only 55-year-old woman who feels like I did.
I talked with Kathleen, my dance partner, after I stopped working out a few weeks ago; it felt good to admit to someone close to me that I failed. I told her that I finally let myself off the hook, I gave it my all, but I am done. As I talked with her, I started to accept that this is me right now, like it or not.
Before I started working out, I used the old crutch why I couldn’t lose weight or get my girlish figure back because of my post-menopausal age. I didn’t want to diet like crazy because it’s not sustainable for me. I didn’t want to risk my GI health with all my intestinal problems by using diet shakes, drinks, teas, coffees, or gummy bears. Again, not sustainable for me.
When I decided to work out in October, I made that decision out of anger and for something to do because I couldn’t belly dance anymore because of covid.
After working out for a couple of weeks, I watched everything that went into my mouth. I tripled my water consumption. I watched how many carbs I consumed and tried to stick with healthy proteins. My portion sizes were small, and I stopped eating the second I felt full, even if it was delicious.
I worked out 6 days a week weight lifting for 4 days along with cardio and did just cardio for the 2 days I didn’t lift. I pushed myself harder than I ever did when I was younger. In the end, I proved to myself I haven’t lost my strength or my stamina…just my figure.
After 6 months of giving it my all, I didn’t lose one fucking ounce. I didn’t look any different. My clothes didn’t fit any better. I was stressing myself out about it, worrying when I would fit a workout into my now hectic busy days. What would I have to sacrifice to make that time available?
Finding the time for the gym was easy over the winter and during the pandemic, but after my life, work and activities went back to normal, I was beating myself up for being a quitter. I am not a quitter.
That brings me to today; I went shopping for new clothes. We were in Saratoga making a delivery when I surprised myself by telling Marty I wanted to go to Old Navy and get myself some new things. I always have luck there, and their clothing runs true to size. He was thrilled because I never want to shop, let alone buy myself new clothes.
As I walked through the store, I looked at everything once, then looped back and chose a few dresses to try on. I told Marty I didn’t want anything black I have a whole closet full of black clothes; I wanted color and patterns. For real!
When I was still working out, I told myself I would treat myself to new clothes, and I’d buy something other than black. I’ve always liked and worn black clothes, but for the last 7 years, I’ve been hiding behind them to hide the shape that I hated.
I decided today, right in the Wilton Mall parking lot, that this is it, this is how I look. This is me! The song popped into my head, and I asked myself if I would keep hiding or finally accept what I look like right now. Life is too short, dammit; buy some fun, colorful, cute dresses, Julz, and rock the hell out of them.
Each one I tried on, I said to myself, “Wow, this looks cute, or nice or whatever.” Marty was outside the dressing room, and when I showed him each dress, he said what I said in my head. So guess what? I didn’t think twice, I bought all 5 of them.
I have so much confidence in everything that I do that it was killing me inside by not accepting what I look like. I realized that getting old is a privilege, and I am aging well; I am in pretty good shape and strong. I stay active between work and dance. I haven’t quit or given up; it’s not “it is what it is.” It’s about acceptance and moving on to focus on more important things in my life.
The tote bag weighs 50 lbs! LOL Baskets for props and for balancing on our heads with our students at class.
Kathleen and I have a belly dance photoshoot on Wednesday before our evening dance classes. We haven’t had a real photoshoot in years. The last one was done by one of our dance sisters, Bethany, who moved to North Carolina four years ago.
Kathleen’s friend at work is also a photographer and would like to take photos of us in our belly dance costumes. She and I will meet at our regular time from 3-4 pm and spend that time putting the finishing touches on our make-up and put on the rest of our costumes.
We dance classic American Tribal Style belly dance, and the costuming is not exactly what you would think of when you think of belly dance. Most people think of skimpy sequined tops and skirts with slits up the legs or the crack of your ass. The typical hair is long, worn down to be able to flip around during a choreographed piece. Not all belly dance is choreographed, but most are. Make-up is heavier than day wear, but not like ours, which includes tribal markings on our faces.
The motto of our dance style when it comes to costuming is “more is more,” which is funny because none of us are like that in our real lives. I have untold amounts of skirts, pantaloons, choli tops, head wrap scarves, hip shawls, coin bras and belts, stage make-up, jewelry, and different kinds and colored flowers for my hair.
We used to have a lot of gigs every month. I got really good at picking out what costuming I was going to wear, and the rest of it all fell into place. In a hurry, I could push it and get ready in an hour for a more casual performance; but if it was a paid gig, on stage at a big show, or a professional photoshoot, it could take up to three hours to get ready.
When people hire us for a private party, never anything like a bachelor party, everyone would think that the price was just for the 15, 30 minute, or hour performance time. They never took into account that it took three hours to get ready, plus the drive to and from the gig. Because we love to perform, it’s worth it, even if the math didn’t always make sense. That’s why we did so many fundraising and charity shows…to perform!
When Kathleen asked me a couple of weeks ago if I wanted to do a photoshoot, I was like, “Fuck yeah!” The ham in me always wants to come out, plus I could use a new headshot for our website.
We confirmed with Kathleen’s photographer friend what she wanted, bright colors, black and white. Indoors or outdoors. She definitely wanted color, and we would choose the location based on the weather. We do improv dance, so we are adaptable anywhere.
Next, Kathleen and I decided to wear two 35 yard cotton skirts, one on top of the other and a color theme; then the rest is up to us individually. We decided on purple as a common color, which is great because purple is my favorite color, other than black, of course.
Today, I went through the totes in my closet that I neatly organized at the end of March and was so glad I did. I was able to find things that I wanted to wear easily. I chose purple and marigold 35-year skirts, a pansy flower cotton choli top, and light cotton sage green pantaloons.
I am also bringing both of my coin bras to decide what one to wear, along with a few different hip shawls and tassel belts. I also packed two different colored silk veils which we use to cover ourselves up when we aren’t dancing or posing. My mood has everything to do with what I chose the day of a gig.
I will do my hair and makeup at home; I always choke when I try to get ready somewhere else. This way, I can fuck up a dozen times, and no one has to hear me bitch. My hair and makeup will be elaborate and will take some time since I am out of practice. I won’t know what I will do until I actually get ready. I’ve dressed up hundreds of times, and no costume, hair, or make-up was ever replicated; it all goes by what I am feeling.
The jewelry that we wear is like a middle easter dowry, a collection of jewelry accumulated over the years. I have purchased, traded, and have been gifted the collection I have. I only purchased a few items, everything else I have gotten from other people. I went through my collection and got out my most authentic tribal pieces. Again, I am not sure what I’ll end up wearing until I am putting it on.
Hopefully, the weather will cooperate, and we can get some nice outdoor photos. Our studio space is also in an old warehouse, so we may be able to get a few cool shots there, too—the elaborate against the industrial kind of thing.
I have everything put aside; I still have to iron a bunch of costume pieces that have been crammed in the back of a closet or a tote for almost two years. I am super excited to get back into costume, especially after a year of not even being able to dance. Yip!
Yesterday was a gorgeous summertime day. It was warmer at 5 am than the whole day last Saturday at our farmers market in Troy, NY.
The week before, I wore layers, including a fleece, down jacket, and raincoat. I also wore winter socks and boots and froze to death. Yesterday, I wore a simple sundress. Yay! Finally.
After we set up, we walked the 30 yards to the Hudson River; the market is located at Riverfront Park and is right on the Hudson. We sat in the sunshine for a bit, and I snapped a selfie of us. I call those an us-ie.
Next, we headed up to Monument Square to see if much changed during the week of filming the HBO series The Gilded Age.
Get your pretzels here!
This week all the carriages I saw in the tent the week before were placed through the “city” along with lots of props. There were two ginormous green screens like the weather people use behind them. The bucket trucks had cameras attached, and there was lots of security and people everywhere.
We were still able to walk around freely and take photos. I knew last week when I was the only one there; it wouldn’t last. Glad I jumped on the chance in the terrible weather the week before.
Groups of people took photos of themselves on the sets, and one woman offered to take ours. After Marty took my picture, a woman said, “Do you want me to take one of you guys together?” I replied quickly, “Nah, not really,” and immediately got a reaction from her and Marty. “Sure, I’m kidding.” 😂
We headed back to our booth, and our market neighbor Joanne said, “Oh my God, you guys are so cute I thought you were your tourists.”
A barge on the Hudson River
We went back over to the concrete wall near the Hudson River and watched the other vendors set up their booths. We like to be done early and relax before the market starts.
A milk vendor said to us while we were sitting on the wall, What are you guys doing sunbathing?” “You betcha!”
Halfway through the market, Marty wanted to see if the splash pad park was open. Last summer, since he was alone, he had to wait until the market was over to cool off before heading home. He started wearing these fast-drying shorts so the van seats would be soaked.
Photo credit The Troy Record
Marty came back about ten minutes later, wet. He smiled like a kid with his big dimples and said, “The splash pad park is open!” He’s so cute! I took a walk over to see the splash pads in action. I saw a group of kids having the time of their lives. Not a care in the world except what pad was going to shoot water up like a geyser next.
As each pad would shoot up water, the kids would scream and giggle, then run to the next pad. What a great way for the kids to stay cool and have fun. I love it. Great job to the city of Troy!
Living on the journey or in the moment allows all of these kinds of moments to happen….just like those kids at the splash pad park. Living in the destination would be waiting until we got home to enjoy the nice weather and sunshine, or a day off to be tourists. Those moments are there; you just have to grab on to them.
Since I had the smoker grill all clean and still in barbecue mode I decided to try again. This time I would be smoking wings with a sweet and spicy glaze.
We knew our cooking time was way off and possibly the smoker’s temperature when we ruined our brisket.
I brined some chicken wings for a couple of hours and lit the hard lump charcoal in the smoker. While the fire was getting hot, I patted the wings dry and sprinkled on a rub that I made.
Ice cubes to keep the brine water cold
When the charcoal started to turn white, I added pecan wood. I watched a YouTube video of a guy doing wings on the same kind of grill/smoker we have. He used a fruitwood too. I don’t remember him saying how much to put in, but he did say to spread it around the outside of the charcoal, which I did.
After the pecan wood started smoking, I put the wings on the grill and shut the lid. I literally sat by the smoker to watch the temperature. I thought things went wrong when I saw the smoker was way below 100 degrees. I opened the lid, and it was smoking like hell and hot. The wings looked done after only one hour. What? The Youtube guy’s wings took two hours.
Shit, shit, shit! I ran inside and got a digital meat thermometer and sure enough, the wings were at 180 degrees and dark in color like the YouTube guys.
I closed up all the openings on the grill to shut the fire down and took the wings inside. I was happy with how they looked, and I know they weren’t overcooked.
Before glaze and after…
I made a glaze and brushed it all over the wings. The plan was to reheat the wings later on for dinner; I popped them in the refrigerator until then.
As I reheated them in the oven, I brushed more sweet and spicy glaze on the wings. I just took the chill off; I didn’t want to dry them out.
I plated up the wings because I wanted to take a photo for a blog post. Marty and I both tried a wing at the same time. They were moist and came off the bone easily.
They looked good…
I know the glaze was delicious on its own since I tasted it as I made it, but on the wings, you couldn’t taste it at all because I over smoked the damn wings! 🤦🏻♀️
The wings were way too smoky for us, even though everything else was perfect. Fuck! I thought I hit a home run this time. As it turned out, I only made it between first and second base.
I didn’t eat anymore, and I didn’t keep the wings for Klaus since he’s off poultry on his limited ingredient allergy diet.
Ok…I used too much pecan wood. Poultry takes on smoke easily, which I now know. Probably one piece of pecan wood would have been enough, but I used several.
As far as waste, at least the wings came out of our freezer after being in there for at least a year when I remembered we had them. Some were freezer burned anyway, so they were perfect for another try.
Wednesday, I picked up a big package of chicken thighs for 99 cents a pound; I’m going to try again on Sunday. I’ll use the same brine, rub and glaze as before.
It took me seven years to develop our spätzle recipe, which happens to be the only gluten-free, fresh—no-boil spätzle in the world. As I was trying to develop the recipe, I used ingredient after ingredient only for the spätzle to fall apart as soon as the batter hit the water. Very, very frustrating. The more I tried, the madder I got. I made so many attempts I lost track, so I just started counting the years.
I knew I was getting close to success three attempts before I nailed the spätzle recipe. I feel the same way; close to getting the smoked barbecue chicken right.
Clearly the thermostat on the smoker isn’t worth shit, so I have to get one that works.
On the bright side, the brining was right. The rub was right. The glaze was right. The doneness of the chicken was right. The amount of wood was wrong, an easy fix…add less.
After the brisket catastrophe, I decided to practice barbecuing using chicken first since it’s less expensive than beef or pork if I mess up again. After I get the chicken right, I can move on to pork shoulders and ribs; then try beef brisket again. Brisket is the hardest meat to smoke even for people who know how to smoke meats; why the hell we chose it, I’ll never know.
Barbecue champions didn’t make award-winning barbecue their first or second time. It could have taken hundreds of times to account for each kind of meat, sauce, rub, barbequing method, and time.
Barbecue guru Aaron Franklin of the famous Franklin BBQ in Austin, TX said it took him seven years to get his brisket right; then, he opened a food truck with his wife. It took him seven years to perfect his brisket, just like it took me seven years to perfect my spätzle!
When it comes to learning how to barbecue, Aaron Franklin’s advice is only to change one thing at a time and keep track, which I am doing just like I did with my spätzle recipe.
I fixed the cook time on Tuesday when I did the wings, now I have to fix the amount of wood for smoking and watch the temperature closer.
I am not nearly as disappointed as I was with the brisket; I learned more about barbequing smoking the wings. These were actually edible for people who like a super smoky bbq taste which is more than I can say for the burnt brisket.
The score reads as follows: Barbecue 2 Julz 0. I’ll get it, just you wait.
