My Butt Smells Good (This Post is Not for the Squeamish)

Pin It There are images involved in this story that may cause those of you who are more squeamish some level of discomfort.

I'm just giving you the heads up now, because I know some people like a little warning. So, click away now if you think maybe you can't handle it.

On the other hand, some of you enjoy a bit of excitement,  and frankly, you don't want a perfectly good story ruined by having me get all spoiler-ish, to protect the weenies among us.  So, for the Non-squeamish among us, I wanted to share with you a real life story from the Boonies, that actually took the last two Saturdays to unfold, in its full glory. And, for the Squeamish: hey, you were warned, and you can't say I didn't give you the option to click away before things got any worse.

Does it concern you that the title of this post has to do with my Butt, and I'm threatening you with pictures that are not for the squeamish?

It should.

And now, on with the story.

Smokin' in the Woods: don't forget to click to fully enjoy the delights of the images in this post. See the uprooted tree's root ball in the background from one of our recent storms?

My dear husband, the Big Bison,  bought a grill that is a smoker as well. He is a bit of a Renaissance man, and loves to try new things, and new hobbies. And for the most part, the hobbies he has chosen have had huge benefits for our family, so I enjoy watching him indulging his interests, and pursuing his passions. After all, so far those hobbies have included hunting (venison, elk, and deer for the freezer, which helps the grocery budget, and wonderful free range, organic meat to serve at our table), coffee bean roasting (I get a daily dose of some of the world's best Joe), and now, he's enjoying using his new smoker. So far, he's experimented with smoking our Thanksgiving turkey, as well as chicken, beef brisket, pork ribs, and pork shoulder roast.

Raw Butt: freshly rubbed, but as yet unsmoked.

The last two Saturdays have been devoted to smoking pork shoulder roast. This is the type of meat they use for pulled pork barbecue sandwiches here in the South. Now, if you go to the supermarket to purchase pork shoulder roast, it is very often labeled Boston Butt (even though the pig's never been anywhere near BeanTown). And that is why, I can say with 100% truthfulness this evening: Gee, my Butt Smells Terrific.

Do you see the face of one of the statues of Easter Island on last Saturday's  Butt? No?

Can you see it now? Picture from here.

Butt, since I've gotten the order of events a little bass-ackwards, here, let me begin at the front end of this story, rather than the tail end of the tale. Last Saturday, the BB (and that would be the Big Bison, and not the Boston Butt) smoked his very first pork shoulder roast. He ran into an obstacle or two. First of all, in the the best case scenario, smoking a pork shoulder is a lengthy process: it can take between 8 and 12 hours. Secondly, last weekend, he did not have optimal circumstances going for him. We believe, in hindsight, as it were, that he made two critical errors last week. One, it was a really chilly day outside, in the 50º's, which makes it harder to maintain a high enough cooking temperature. Two, he used the wrong kind of fuel for smoking: charcoal briquettes, rather than lump hardwood charcoal. Both these factors, combined together, caused the smoking of the Butt to slow down radically, constipating the process, you might say. We didn't eat till 10:00 last Saturday night, which made everyone sad and grumpy, not to mention ravenous. However, the Butt really did taste great!!!

Yesterday's Butt.

This Saturday was different, however.  We had warm weather, (the Big Bison was outside cooking in his bare feet/with unshodden hooves) and the right kind of charcoal, and the smoking process was a smooth move, to continue on with a really regrettable metaphor. That Butt was cooking right along, and everybody was happy. Until....

The Bison decided he wanted to make extra good use of some of his outdoor cooking time by roasting some coffee beans on the little propane burner that we have right there on the patio, near the grill/smoker. He pulled the cover off the burner, and this is what his barefooted self saw less than a foot from his foot.

This is the scary part, kids. Click to check his tonsils, and for a bigger thrill.

Oh, yeah.

Horrifying, is it not?

For the uninitiated, that, my friends, is a very aggressive, very poisonous cottonmouth, showing off exactly why they are called cottonmouths. When they feel threatened, they open wide their mouths, and show you what they got: white on the inside, right where you find their fangs and their venom.

The Bison yelled (because even if he HAD screamed like a girl, I didn't hear him, and he didn't admit it to me) with all his might, and ran inside, and got his heavy hunting boots on, and the tool called a tile scraper. He went back outside and proceeded to fulfill scripture.

I won't tell you specifically which scripture he fulfilled. It might have had something to do with subduing the earth (Genesis 1:28), and it might have been the prophecy that God told to the serpent in the Garden of Eden about how the Man was going to crush the serpent's head (Genesis 3:15) ...or it might have been "Blessed are the peacemakers". I'm not going to tell you which one was fulfilled, because, technically, for some reason, it is illegal in the state of Tennessee to kill a poisonous snake. But no jury would ever convict a man for protecting his own life as well as the life of his wife, kids, and pets from an aggressive poisonous snake on his own patio, right? (Actually, I think there is a clause in that law in regard to there being leeway when someone's life is endangered.)

So, whoa! Some excitement there, huh? My dear son had a long-delayed birthday party last night, and all his 17-19 year old friends were over, and they got to see a bit of the drama, so I think they might have been kind of impressed.  Or, that might have been horror on their sweet young faces. It can be so hard to tell the difference. I guess we'll know next time we extend an invitation to the Boonies, and none of them can make it.

Anyway, I've been telling you guys that I live a wild life in these here woods, and yet, you doubt me. Well, doubt no more my friends!!!

And by the way: my Butt was smokin' hot and ready to be devoured at the lovely hour of 6:00 this time, a much more reasonable hour to be eating dinner,  and was juicy and beautiful and delicious.

Shredding My Butt: Jillian Michaels only dreams of this kind of shred.

And that is the tale of my Butt.

Stay tuned: maybe in an upcoming blog, I'll give you my recipe for Butt Rub, and if you're really nice, I might throw in my absolutely fantastic and Super EASY Coleslaw recipe. I always hated coleslaw till I had this, and now, I can't get enough! It goes great with a barbecue sandwich.

I bet you have dealt with wildlife, in some form or fashion, in your time. What critters have you tangled with?