Kelly Says

Here I sit, Sunday evening, watching the Superbowl with Sarah (my oldest daughter). I can’t think of a single good reason why, but I’m ready to cook.

Our family spent a fair part of Friday afternoon and all day Saturday digging ditches, running underground conduit, installing new gas lines – just having some all-around family fun. (If you want to know why we did all this work, feel free to ask; odds are I won’t kill you just for asking!)

Anyway, Saturday evening we were discussing our annual Superbowl party and what we were going to serve. Sarah wanted me to cook a brisket.

Please allow me to ramble for a few minutes here; anybody who has competition cooked for a little while is probably a pretty good cook, and chances are they have been sweet-talked into cooking for their friends and neighbors because its soooo much better than anything they can cook themselves. After cooking lots of meat for appreciative but non-paying folks, I have learned some creative ways to say no. But I couldn’t say no to Sarah.

Until about six months ago, Sarah wouldn’t eat anything cooked on my pit. I’m not sure of all of her reasons, but it wasn’t going to happen. Then came the memorable day – we were at a cookoff outside of Lamesa, Texas. The sand was blowing, it was hot, and the girls were starving. Sarah and Yancy wanted to go to town to get something to eat. I had been working over a fire all night, after I somehow managed to keep my tent from blowing all the way to Lubbock during the night (there’s another great story to be told about the storm that night, but I’ll wait for another time).

After what I considered a sufficient amount of whining from the girls, I kindly explained to them that I had expended all of my energy and money toward the meat I had cooked, and if they ever wanted to eat again, the should start with something from my pit.

Fearing the thought of never seeing their friends again, they both wisely chose to have a slice of brisket. And another. And some more. I finally had to stop them, just to make sure we had enough for the turn-in tray. But I earned a new fan of my brisket.

So, when Sarah asked for brisket yesterday, I couldn’t refuse. We were ready to get up early, start a fire and spend the day cooking a brisket that would make David McInroe jealous. Then Sunday morning got here. After the full day of shoveling, and a good nights rest, the sore muscles made themselves known. So we decided to wait until next weekend to cook the brisket.

Now I’m sitting here watching the game, thinking that that brisket sure would be good right about now. It must be something in our blood.

The opinions listed here are those of Kelly Draper, and may not reflect the opinions of any other LSBS officers or members.