BBQ&A with Myron Mixon: Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Barbecue

INTRODUCTION

WELCOME TO MYRON MIXON’S ULTIMATE F.A.Q.

Got a burning question about barbecue? From all I’ve seen in my twenty-five years as a professional pitmaster, I know you have at least one question that’s bugging you, at least one nagging issue that comes up every time you’re getting ready to barbecue in your backyard. Well, you have come to the right place.

Y’all know what an F.A.Q. is, right? It’s that list of questions and answers that could be about any topic, and all of the questions are supposedly the ones that are the most commonly asked. You see an F.A.Q. in a new-product guide or in an online forum, and you see them on websites when you need customer service and support. Sometimes those questions are about very basic stuff, and other times they are super specific—but they just go to show you that explanations are necessary for just about every facet of American life these days. All of us consumers appreciate additional well-organized information about the topics that interest us. We’ve come to expect that we can get all our questions answered whenever we want to.

Barbecue is no different. Believe it or not, even the winningest man in barbecue—that’s me, Myron Mixon—has a list of frequently asked questions. These are the things people ask me over and over again . . . when I’m on the road competing in contests, or attending events to do smoking demos, or teaching barbecue cooking classes. Sometimes people shout these questions at me during barbecue contests. Other times they post them on my Facebook page or tweet them. And just like the questions in many instruction manuals, they range from the very general—What does championship barbecue taste like? (see this page for that one)—to the very precise—How can I get a smoke ring to go all the way around my brisket? (see this page). Some questions are all about hogs: How do I smoke a whole hog if I’ve never done it before (see this page)? Or: Is there an easy way to make great pulled pork (see this page)? Others are about fixing common barbecue problems: Why does the skin on my chicken thighs come out rubbery (see this page)? Then there are those that are a little odd: I can’t figure out why people always want to know what I eat when I’m not eating barbecue (see a page in someone else’s book, because my answer just ain’t that interesting—I happen to like Italian food). And a surprising number of folks ask me if you can cook desserts in a smoker (you can; see this page).

As a barbecue champion who travels all over the world for cooking competitions, TV appearances, and other events, I’ve kept track of all the various issues that come up over and over again for my fans. I want you to think of BBQ&A as my ultimate F.A.Q. For the first time ever, I’m going to answer the questions I commonly receive and provide exactly the recipes and instructions you want all in one place. In the upcoming pages I’ll be answering more than a hundred of the barbecue-loving public’s most frequently asked questions of me—in the process of offering up my smoking techniques and methods, barbecue flavors and meat preparations, and my best recipes and formulas.

Why am I doing this? BBQ&A is for all the people living what I call the barbecue lifestyle. If you are from the South, where I’ve lived all my life, you probably already know what this means. Down here, barbecue is a career for some and a hobby for most. It’s also a way of living. If you drive down a street in a suburban neighborhood like mine, you’ll see in damn near every driveway or backyard a smoker—whether it’s a big old rusty barrel, or a ceramic green one, or one of the sophisticated chest-style ones that the pros use. That smoker might be next to a fishing boat, or a pickup truck, or both. Over the years our barbecue way of life is something that has been catching on throughout the country, and now throughout the world. This book is for all of you in the growing army of folks out there who care deeply about making the world’s best barbecue—I’m one of you. I know that we do it for a number of different reasons: to feed our families and friends, to win a contest, or just because it’s what we do.

I told you that I hear from folks about their own barbecue efforts all the time, but it happens the most when I’m in my element competing in a barbecue contest. Especially at a big barbecue event, like one of the larger contests sponsored by the Kansas City Barbecue Society (KCBS) or the Memphis Barbecue Network: I’ll have people come up to me and say that the reason they got into barbecue is because of me. I love that. Here’s why: Most folks assume—can’t blame them, it’s because of what they hear me say on TV—that I’m just into competitive barbecue for the paycheck. Believe me, I do love that paycheck. But what gets me going, and the reason I still cook barbecue after all these years in the first place, are those comments from my fans, those pats on the back they give me when they tell me, Your barbecue is the best damn barbecue I’ve ever put in my mouth. That’s the greatest feeling in the world, right there.

Unadilla, Georgia

No matter what our jobs are, I think all of us love to feel respected and appreciated. We are all looking for our next Atta boy! So we pitmasters are always striving to get that next pat on the back—from our friends, our families, our judges . . . hell, even from our enemies. We want that great job from anyone and everyone who eats barbecue. Make no mistake: Every pitmaster, from the backyard warriors on up to the grand champions, seeks the confirmation that his or her food tastes great. Once you get a taste of that acclaim for something you’ve cooked, you start craving it: You’re always trying to get better at your cooking, you’re practicing your techniques and recipes, and you’re thinking and dreaming about barbecue. I want to keep my friends and family beyond happy with my food, and I want to keep my fans in awe. I have won so much and gotten so much attention for my cooking that I could walk away from the world of barbecue right now and never cook another hog (this page), another brisket (this page), another damn cupcake chicken (this page), and I would be fine. But I’m not doing that. I’m as hooked on the barbecue lifestyle as the people who just bought their first smoker.

This book is for my fans, because their affirmation that my barbecue is the best ever is what has kept me going all these years. I love y’all.

Disclaimer: This book contains my answers to the questions most frequently asked of me, Myron Mixon. I am not a professional nutritionist, a home economist, an academic historian, or a scientist. I am a barbecue champion. What I can tell you is how I got that way, and how you can make food at home that tastes a lot like what I go out there every day and win contests by cooking. This is not the ultimate guide to barbecue that’s going to tell you all about how they cook meat in Alabama versus how they do it in Thailand. This book is the ultimate guide to Myron Mixon’s style of championship barbecue. And that ought to be enough to at least get you started.

MYRON’S BBQ&A

Before we get into the meat of the book, here are some questions and answers about my time on the competitive barbecue circuit.

Q:

Which competition is the most fun to compete in, and why?

A:

The Giant National Capital Barbecue Battle in Washington, DC, is a damn fine time. Why? You’re cooking right on Pennsylvania Avenue, right down the street from the White House. No matter who you voted for, when you cook barbecue on Pennsylvania Avenue you’re doing it near the president of the United States, which is pretty cool. The contest organizers shut down six blocks, and the pitmasters get to stand right on the street and smoke our hogs, pork shoulders, and briskets right there in full view of the U.S. government. I’ve had the mayor from DC come down, along with all kinds of Congress people. I’m just waiting for the president to show up someday.

Q:

Which contest has the largest purse?

A:

The Memphis in May World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest is the one that’ll net you the most money. If you can manage to win the grand championship, you’re looking at $40,000. Now, you have other kinds of cooking contests these days where you can make even more money. For instance, you’ve got the World Food Championships, where grand champions of all kinds of previous events compete to win $100,000. But none of them means as much as winning Memphis in May. That’s the most important one to me, and I’ve won it four times. As a member of my team, my son Michael has won, too. Now I’m waiting for him to win Memphis in May for himself, running his own crew.

Q:

How much have I won?

A:

Since 1996, I have won:

— More than 200 grand championships

— More than 30 state championships

— 11 national championships

— 4 world championships

— 9-time Memphis in May team of the year

— More than $1 million in prize money

— More than 1,800 trophies

— Induction into the Barbecue Hall of Fame, 2013

— Carolyn and Gary Wells Pioneer of Barbecue Award, 2018

Q:

Which contest was your first win?

A:

The first prizes I ever won for cooking barbecue were in 1996 at the Lock & Dam BBQ Contest in Augusta, Georgia. Guess what? It was the first contest I ever even entered. I took two first-place finishes—for whole hog and for ribs—and one third-place, for pork shoulder. That was pretty damn good for a first-timer. My first grand championship was at the Big Pig Jig. That contest has a special place in my heart. Not only is it one of the biggest barbecue contests in the Southeast, but also my dad was involved with it before he passed away—and it takes place in my hometown of Vienna, Georgia, where his original restaurant was. I won that contest in 1997 with my first grand championship, and then I won it again in 2013, almost twenty years later, when we filmed it for BBQ Pit Wars. Please believe me, I love whooping the asses of my competitors at the Big Pig Jig.

Q:

Which state championship is the most important to you, and why?

A:

For me, the state barbecue championship that means the most is naturally the one from the state of Georgia, my home state and where I still live. At one time before the world of competitive barbecuing became so popular, there used to be only one state championship in each state. Nowadays, there can be more than one—for example, the state of Kansas has something like fifty state championships. It does not make sense to me. Back in the day, the Big Pig Jig was the only barbecue championship in the state of Georgia. You had 140 teams competing against each other, cooking whole hogs. That kind of contest is the heart and soul of competitive barbecue.

I’ll tell you another state contest I like: The Kentucky state championship is a fun one. One year when I was competing, the barbecue part was on Friday and Saturday, and on Sunday they were having a mutton contest. Now, normally I wouldn’t mess with mutton—I did not grow up cooking and eating it. But I saw that it paid $2,000 to win the mutton portion of the contest. So even though I’d never cooked mutton in my life, I thought: What the hell, I’ll give it a shot. I noticed that all the other competitors were cooking whole mutton, but I didn’t know how to do that and I didn’t have the time to practice. Instead, I went out and bought a lamb shoulder roast and some racks of lamb chops and gave it my best shot. There were forty teams that entered the mutton contest, many of whom had extensive knowledge of mutton and had been cooking mutton for years; that was my competition. But guess what? I won it. I took that big check, and then I got the hell out of there.

Q:

Was there ever a barbecue contest you were sure you’d lose?

A:

I will never forget this one time when I was competing in the South Carolina Festival of Discovery Barbecue Contest in Greenwood, South Carolina. I was watching the finishes closely. It was a KCBS-sponsored event, which means there are four categories that you have to cook—chicken, ribs, pork shoulder, and brisket. The good news was that we’d placed in all four. The bad news was that we’d gotten a sixth, an eighth, a ninth, and an eleventh. I was watching a whole bunch of other teams collect their first-, second-, and third-place prizes, just knowing that our team was done, that we were out of the contest for sure. Guess what? We ended up winning the grand championship! Turns out that even though a bunch of other teams placed higher than we did in individual categories, none of the rest of them scored in all four. I was shocked. More fun than me being in shock, though, was looking around at everybody else being like, How did that just happen?

Q:

Did you ever compete in a contest that you were just sure you were going to win, but then lost?

A:

Oh yes, unfortunately. I was competing in a KCBS contest three years ago. We had won two first-place finishes and a third, and I just knew the grand championship was going to be ours. All we had to do was wait for our brisket score to come in before we could collect the prize. Guess what? We wound up finishing something like fourth or fifth overall. What happened? We got a low score on our brisket—which was underserving, I might add—and that sunk the championship for us. I would also like to add that I’ve won that particular contest thirteen times. But I don’t have hard feelings.

Q:

Which contest is toughest?

A:

The hardest contest to compete in is also the contest where I have the most experience, and that’s the Memphis in May World Championship. First of all, it’s a contest where you can cook whole hog (this page), a skill that attracts only the best teams. To me, cooking a whole hog is a true test of a pitmaster’s abilities. It’s hard work. You don’t come to a contest to cook and party and choose whole hog as your category. At Memphis in May, you only choose one category to compete in. People who come there to party—and I don’t blame them, it’s a big, fun party for sure—do not cook whole hog. Those competitors cook ribs—and that’s easy, because all you have to do is come out to the grounds early on Saturday morning, smoke your ribs for three hours, and then turn them in. You’re done, and you can go party. But cooking a hog is a two-day process. In any year you’ve got forty or fifty teams cooking whole hogs, and all of us have got to stay up all night doing it. That’s dedication.

Q:

What’s up with the oversize checks they give you when you win a barbecue contest?

A:

People ask me about those oversize prize checks sometimes. Guess what? They’re symbols, and they’re worth the paper they’re printed on. The real winnings come to you as soon as thirty days or as late as ninety days after the contest—unless you can do something I’ve never been able to do, which is find a bank that’ll cash a gigantic cardboard check.

True story: The first time I agreed to work with a publisher on a cookbook, I had a big conference call with the editors. At some point in that call they asked me what was most important to me about the upcoming project, and I told them that I was good as long as I got one of those big checks—but I had no idea how they would mail it from New York City to Georgia. The call got real quiet then. I don’t think some of those New Yorkers realized I was messing with them, at least for a couple of minutes.

Q:

Who is the most famous person you’ve met at a barbecue contest?

A:

People ask me this a lot, too. I’ve met some famous people. I guess one of the biggest thrills was meeting Joe Perry of Aerosmith. Dale Earnhardt, Jr., is a fan of mine, and that’s pretty damn cool. And I’ve met many other celebrity chefs, like Guy Fieri, and even went on a USO tour with Adam Richman from Man v. Food to South Korea. And I’ve met countless athletes (I got to cook for the Atlanta Falcons recently) and many politicians.

Q:

What is your favorite meat to cook in a competition?

A:

I love cooking a whole hog. I like cooking whole hog better than anything else in the world, to tell you the truth. Everything about it is second nature to me. If you want to be an honest-to-god pitmaster, you have to master the whole hog. And I like being able to show off the fact that I can cook a damn-near perfect whole hog, in contest after contest. It’s very rewarding to smoke a whole hog, too, because after you’re done you get to eat something that tastes close to heaven. My second-favorite thing to cook is brisket. Why? Because I cooked pork all my life, and brisket is something different; it’s a challenge to get it right, and I had to learn how to do it. I love to eat beef, and smoking a brisket is rewarding for me in an entirely different way (this page).

Q:

What is your least favorite competition category?

A:

How fast can I answer this? Chicken. Still and always, I have never really enjoyed smoking chicken. Why? Number one, it’s a piece of meat that judges scrutinize tougher than they do the meat in any other category. For example, they check to make sure that your chicken thighs are all sized identically—and it’s a real pain to make that happen. Chicken is also less flavorful than pork or beef, and to get good scores for cooking it, the judges like to see the newest, latest, greatest sauce on the chicken. The flavors they’re looking for with chicken change all the time—sweet and tangy one year, mesquite-flavored another year. I hate keeping up with trends like that.

Q:

Who are all the guys helping you at contests?

A:

My blackshirts, the Jack’s Old South crew who work with me and help me in all my contests (and wear the signature team-sponsored all-black collared button-downs when they’re cooking with me, hence the