Hickory-Smoked Pulled Pork Sandwiches

Nice try, chocolate chip cookies. You had a good run, apple pie. But in the end it wasn't even close. I'm referring, of course, to the clear winner of the title for most American of all culinary traditions: Barbecue.

While back in my hometown to visit my parents for Fourth of July, I decided the perfect way to fulfill our patriotic duty - and celebrate our country's 235th birthday - was by smoking a pig. Okay, just the shoulder of the pig in our case, but oh what a succulent, flavorful little shoulder it was.

I teased you with the sauce, but here's the real star of the show: hickory-smoked pulled-pork sandwiches.

Several years ago, my dad upgraded his grill to a larger one with a built-in smoker. Despite being a regular - and accomplished - grill master, regrettably, he has never used the smoker. And while I have perfected the art of slow-cooked, fall-apart-tender barbecue pork in an oven, smoking the meat was new to me as well. It was high-time we tried the sucker out.

I headed to the southern United States for inspiration - a region where the term "barbecue" is generally synonymous with smoked pork cooked low-and-slow, and concocted a special rub to use prior to smoking the meat. Meanwhile, the mixin' sauce pulled ingredient and flavor notes from Kansas City: it's a thick, sweet tomato-based sauce I created with pulled-pork sandwiches specifically in mind.

Smoking meat is a commitment. It takes hours and even days to slowly cook the meat into tenderized, delicious oblivion. Especially the large, tough cuts of beef and pork that are traditionally used for barbecue. Some may have eased into it the first time, and tried smoking some salmon or a whole chicken, which cook to perfection in an hour and a half.

I chose pork butt - also called pork shoulder or Boston butt - because pulled- pork is my very favorite type of southern barbecue and because I wanted to spend eight-plus hours cooking dinner.

But it's worth it. As you watch the meat fall apart at the lightest touch, and your mouth waters and you finally bite into that succulent sandwich, you forget how long it took to get there.

And it's really not an arduous process. Yes you have to baby the fire along, to maintain an even temperature, and you have to "mop" the meat every so often to keep the meat juicy, but you get to be outside in the sunshine and sip on a cold drink and spend time with family and friends while you do it. Which makes a pretty perfect Fourth of July - or any weekend really.

Follow the jump for recipes and technique...

Whiskey Bourbon Barbecue Sauce

I'm officially back in the city, and officially back to work. After a glorious week off in the country, getting up at 6:30am and getting on a crowded bus this morning felt quite foreign. I'm very glad this is a short work week!

I spent much of my time back home cooking and working on new recipes, which I'll be sharing soon. Here's a new one I created this weekend while spending Fourth of July hickory-smoking a 4lb pork butt slathered in a spicy rub until it was fall-apart-tender.

I wanted this to be top secret. I wanted it to have a name like Smokey Joe's Backyard Moppin' Sauce. Or Three Finger Willie's Pit Master Pork Juice. I wanted there to be a lock box with a hand-written sauce- smudged recipe. A recipe passed down through generations, so good, if-I-tell-you-I'll-have-to-kill-you...

While that would certainly make for a more dramatic story, this sweet little BBQ baby was only recently created, but still worth a lock box. And there is a secret ingredient of sorts: All-American Bourbon Whiskey.

A thick, sticky, and sweet concoction, this sauce was specifically created with pork shoulder cuts in mind. It doubles as both a mopping and a mixing sauce; the strong, deep flavor is perfectly suited for turning tough cuts into irresistibly-lip-smackin'-good pulled-pork sandwiches.

Recipe after the jump...

Dreaming of Summer

I have been dreaming of summer. A real summer. Not the version San Francisco has been insisting on giving me. Hot, lazy days spent outside in the sunshine, sandy afternoons at the beach and balmy nights dining outside. Without a sweater. Or a scarf.

My hometown of Santa Barbara has answered my wishes this week, bestowing some glorious (and much missed) sunshine down upon us. The week has been spent catching up with old friends, shopping at the farmer's market, and cooking as much as possible - that is when I'm not sneaking back outside to luxuriate in the garden.

I'm soaking it up while I can, and hoping some rays will stow away in my suitcase and brighten things up back home!

A Little Vacation and Some Little Radishes

These little Easter Egg radishes were just too adorable to pass up at the market this week. I love them fresh with a little sea salt and some bread and butter... their crisp, peppery taste makes these colorful little beauties the perfect healthy snack.

Tomorrow I'm off to my hometown of Santa Barbara to visit my parents for the week and celebrate 4th of July with the boy. I'm very excited to see them and to spend some time languishing in their enormous and well-stocked kitchen. It puts my little 40 square foot cooking space to shame. I can't wait to spread out! I'm sure I will have some very eager recipe testers this week - namely my childhood black lab, Oliver.

I'll be back in the city in a week, with lots of new goodies to share! Wishing you a delicious week!

Fig and Goat Cheese Crostini

Pink Dahlias keep the San Francisco fog at bay!

All week long I look forward to Saturday morning. Yes, I know that every full-time professional is working for the weekend, but I have a specific goal in mind. I daydream all week long about ingredients and recipes and long hours on the weekend to fuss around the kitchen. It keeps me going.

Saturday mornings are for going to the market. For stocking up on the week's necessities: milk and bread and fresh pasta. Fresh flowers to keep the apartment cheery - even in San Francisco fog. But more than that, it is my inspiration time. I wander the aisles, waiting for the newest idea to hit. The market never ceases to surprise me with a beautiful fruit, destined to become the star of a tart, or a beautiful piece of meat, calling out to be slow-roasted to perfection. I love the seasonal food changes, when suddenly the stores are bursting with new, beautiful, local fruits and vegetables, packed full of flavor and inspiration. After working 50- hour weeks, Saturday mornings make me whole again.

This morning at the market I found the normal bevy of inspiring seasonal ingredients. The summer season is particularly generous. Flats of colorful berries. Shiny cherries and crimson rhubarb. Bright green beans and sweet corn. Tangy heirloom cherry tomatoes teasing the start of full-blown tomato season.

And then there were these figs. It's a little early for fig season, but they called out to me. Their plump, aubergine little selves begging to be taken home. I gave in.

I prefer figs to be prepared simply. Sliced in half and eaten plain, like candy. Wrapped with a translucently-thin piece of prosciutto and drizzled with honey or balsamic vinegar.

Or like this. A plump, sweet, fleshy slice of fig atop a generous slather of goat cheese and fresh bread. Deliciously simple and a perfect summer nibble!