It feels as though we’ve waited forever for college football to start, and finally the wait is over! Check out our tailgating page
for recipes that are sure to become fan favorites. As an added bonus, the day before Labor Day
is National Bacon Day
and we don’t know about you, but we like putting bacon on anything and everything, so we’ll definitely be celebrating that. It's time to think about getting out to one of the many #EGGfests around the country - see a list here
BGE article from Denver makes the Austin local paper
Our local paper ran this article yesterday (Austin American Statesman). Cool.[p]=====================================[p]Green, like the color of grill envy
Oval combination appliance creates delectable delights -- and a lot of groupies[p]By Douglas Brown[p]DENVER POST[p]Wednesday, August 3, 2005[p]When people fall into the cult of the Big Green Egg, they talk of lump charcoal and alderwood, of briskets and Eggfests and temperatures of 180 degrees, 325 degrees, 800 degrees, higher.[p]Smoke perfumes their lives, which they spend on decks and in backyards, hovering around their hot, ceramic ovens shaped like eggs. They wear not hooded robes, but aprons. They engage in sacrifice -- chickens, cows and, yes, sacrificial lambs.[p]Praise be unto thee, my Big Green Egg. I shall tend thy flame, I shall clean thy inner sanctums, I shall feed thee with racks of ribs and whole turkeys, legs of goat and blue crabs and brook trout lined up like neat rows of commas.[p]I'm an Egghead, beholden to the Big Green Egg, a combination grill-oven that can hold a low temperature for hours -- important for smoking cuts of meat or fish -- or fire up to the sort of high temperatures necessary for restaurant-quality steaks and brick-oven pizzas.[p]The Big Green Egg, first introduced in 1974 in Atlanta, is based on Japanese kamado cookers. (Prices range from $200 for the Mini to $700 for the large egg.) In metal grills, the fire quickly heats the metal and escapes into the air. Ceramic or clay cookers like kamados, East Indian tandoor ovens and Big Green Eggs trap both heat and moisture.[p]Various contraptions control the amount of air entering and escaping the Egg's shell, giving cultists meticulous control over cooking temperatures.[p]Casseroles, breads, roasts, cobblers: Just about anything cooked in an oven works in a Big Green Egg.[p]Ask us, and we'll talk far too much about the magic of the potent Green Egg sitting in our yards. Pizza? Of course! Better than you've ever tasted! Clams? Can you say obviously? Bacon? Duh![p]We are not a subterranean cult. We fill our backyards with smoldering chunks of hickory wood. We have Eggfests. (The Texas Eggfest was held at Lake Travis in May.) We proselytize.[p]"I keep brochures in my pantry," says Andy Wann, 44, an Egghead sales representative in Denver. "I give them to people and tell them it will change their lives. I preach the gospel of the Big Green Egg."[p]He cooks in his 5-year-old Egg several times a week. During a blizzard two years ago when he got walloped with more than 6 feet of snow (and lost his power -- including his oven -- for four days), the Egg emerged, heroic, like the second-string quarterback who replaces the star and wins the Super Bowl for the struggling team.[p]George Tocquigny, 54, places his Egg in the same company as his circular saw and hammer.[p]"It's like tool time," says the Castle Rock, Colo., salesman. "There's something more masculine about it. It's the hunter instinct, go out and shoot the dinner and put it on the spit."[p]Ed Fisher, Big Green Egg founder and chief executive officer, insisted during a phone interview that the cult is co-ed, but I'm not so sure.[p]Tong-wielding men invite women into Eggdom's folds, but spend time at the cult's Vatican City -- the "Eggsperts forum" at biggreenegg.com -- and bear witness to a priesthood, a patriarchal clergy. Men posting pictures of their just-cooked Cornish game hens. Men offering blueprints for Big Green Egg carts.[p]How should I best cook country ribs, asks someone calling himself Fishlessman during a recent exchange. It depends upon how thick they are, answers Nature Boy.[p]For those who embrace their Inner Egg, things that did not matter much before take on great significance.[p]Take charcoal. Identical blackened fuel pods in paper sacks. Stuff you fashion into loose pyramids, douse with fuel and light.[p]No, no, nope. Charcoal must be lump, filler-free, the more varied and rough the chunks the better.[p]Chuck Logan, 53, a software consultant Egghead, bought an Egg, dived into the online forum, and soon had his own Web site, http://clconsulting.mesanet works.net/big--green--egg.htm. He posts recipes at his electronic devotional, photographs of cooked food, and even movies of techniques for preparing, for example, spare ribs.[p]As a "big, huge Egghead," construction manager Jim MacKinnon, 36, spends a healthy hunk of free time with his Egg.[p]Friends come to his house, eat his Egg-cooked meals, and profess quick conversions to the Way of the Egg, but MacKinnon cautions them first.[p]"I stop them and say, 'Wait a minute, are you really into barbecue? Are you willing to baby-sit this thing in a snowstorm? Can you clean it out and take care of it?' "[p]How did he become the Yoda of Eggville?[p]"It's hard to put a label on it, but you become almost fanatical," he says. "It's so unusual, you take barbecuing to a whole different level."[p]Even zipping through the Big Green Egg forum gets his juices flowing.[p]"It's funny, because it excites me," he says. "Someone's picture of a pork butt. It's awesome."[p]Amen, brother.