Walt's Corner

I learned a while ago that a domed kettle is the optimum shape for grilling and smoking. Along with proper venting control this provides a stable temperature environment for your cooks as well as quick temperature changes up or down as needed. Which is why I ended up switching to Weber charcoal grills – the de facto standard in charcoal kettle grills. Weber grills have treated me so well, in fact, that I quit using my dedicated smokers. My professional smoker (which was my pride and joy) hasn’t been used in years. I need to sell it or something.

Another kettle/domed type grill that was out there that I didn’t give much thought to was the ceramic kamado style cooker. Your Big Green Eggs, Kamado Joes, and the likes. The cost was prohibitive. I thought Webers were overprice, kamados were triple the cost for comparative sized Webers. The is why I never tried them. Until this little guy came out, the Cadet by London Sunshine. Cheap enough to give it a go. See what all the hype is about. The problem? It is tiny. The Weber Smokey Joe 14” sells for around $69. The London Sunshine Cadet? $239. Quadruple the price of a standard weber that small. To add insult to injury, the Cadet has an even smaller grid diameter than the Smokey Joe. I also ordered the small deflector plate London Sunshine makes to fit this little kamado. I ordered that on May 20. It has yet to arrive. Or even ship out for that matter.

The Cadet arrived. It was heavy. Duh. One of the major drawbacks of ceramic grills is the weight. These things are heavy as fuck. This small one is 50 pounds. Required some assembly – the stand, handles, etc. Your normal assembly of a standard ceramic kamado. I had it complete in less than 20 minutes. The next day I fired it up.

Initial burn of a ceramic is not supposed to exceed 400 degrees F, though the grill makers claim you can get up to over 700. With that 400 degree limit in mind I dropped in 12 Kingsford charcoal briquettes and placed a tumbleweed under the cast iron grate. Once the coals were lit I placed a chunk of mesquite on the coals, placed the small grate on top, and closed the lid. Both bottom and top vents were wide open until I got within 50 degrees of my desired temp – 225 (desired temp was 275). Once that was hit I restricted both top and bottom vents and it settled in between 275 and 300. Good enough for this test so I left it.

They say you should only use lump charcoal in kamados. Not regular briquettes. They say regular charcoal will clog the pores of the ceramic. I say, why does that matter? Pretty sure them pores are clogged already because of that glazed paint coating on the outside. But what do I know. I fully intend on using lump charcoal, but this was all I had on hand at the time.

You learn real quick with ceramics that getting the temperature up is easy. Getting that temperature to lower once you overshoot is not due to the ceramic insulation. It takes forever to lower your temperature. Those 12 briquettes held that temp steady for 5 hours. I was thoroughly impressed. Enough to begin my next stage – figuring out which full-sized kamado I would be added to small grill collection.

The most unfortunate part of this testing phase was the timing. I was within the week prior to my upcoming colonoscopy which meant red meat was off the menu. FML. My first cook was BBQ chicken breasts. Seasoned with Marion Kay’s Chicken seasoning (rumored to be the Colonel’s secret blend of 11 herbs and spices) and slathered with Rudy’s BBQ sauce. Quite tasty.

Once that little deflector arrives, I’ve got the perfect small picnic roast to smoke on this Cadet.

At first we didn’t have any camping plans for Memorial Day weekend. I had some doctor’s appointments on that Friday in preparation for the upcoming colonoscopy. But then at the last minute we decided what the hell – why not! Wednesday I picked up the Runabout, parked it out front, and turned on the fridge.

Friday arrived. Filled up the fresh water tank (45 gallons in the tank, 6 in the hot water heater), finished packing the last-minute groceries. I was getting ready to head out to my VA appointments when I noticed it. The fresh water tank. Kinda hanging on the driver side back. WTF. Had it always come down at an angle from front to back adn I just hadn’t noticed. I checked the other side. Nope. It is defintily horizontal and level with the trailer frame. Further inspection revealed the cause. A busted bracket. That last camping trip we made to Three Rivers Campground was a rough 6 or 7 miles of dirt and hole filled road. Seemed to recall a couple hard unexpected hits. Initial thoughts as I left for my VA appointments were to cancel this trip. But then I wondered if there were a way to temporarily support the tank for this trip. Turns out there was. Some handy cargo straps and a piece of plywood did the trick. Secure. Stopped a couple times on the way to our usual playground in the Lincoln National Forest to verify the integrity of the straps and we were golden. 

Found a nice secluded spot about 4 miles down Forest Road 223. All Our usuals were taken this late on a Friday evening of a 4-day weekend, so this was the furthest out on this road that we have camped. Not by far, though. About another 50 yards. We were next to a few trails. Hiked Benson Ridge Canyon (4-mile loop) on Saturday and Lucas Canyon (6-mile out and back) on Sunday.

There is currently a fire ban in the whole forest, meaning no charcoal grills or log fires. Only propane. No problem. We brought the propane grill and propane campfire. Meals were my home-made brats on Saturday and k-bobs on Sunday. The weather was wonderful. Low was 49 and high at 66.

The hardest part was spreading the ashes of Abby in one of her favorite meadows in the forest. There, she joins her sister, Dolly. Over the past few years whenever we walk through that meadow, and we do a lot, we say hi to Dolly and remember a story or two about her. Now we’ll add Abby to the conversation.  One we like to remember is how she loved the water. Whether it be the serene clear lake, white water rapids of a fast moving river, or a dirty ass mud-puddle. We had to make her avoid them when we didn’t want her wet or dirty. This meadow she’s now a part of has this huge mud hole at the beginning of it that we would have to leash her around to make our way to the meadow. And then again on our way back to our camping site. Otherwise she would be in it and one filthy dog. One day when there was this particularly huge mud puddle (because sometimes it was dry), she managed to sneak from us and took off at full speed towards it. I had to run full bore to be able to cut her off and prevent her from jumping into it. Good times. But also foreboding. Knowing that one day, Bailey and Lotty will also join this exclusive club. In the below picture from last year, Abby is the far left pup. The meadow is barely visable in the path that leads up between the trees on the left. 

Now to focus on that water tank bracket. I think I can weld a new end on to it and secure it back to the trailer frame. A handy man’s work is never done. But he’s always saving money.

A lady falls into an open manhole after exiting her vehicle. Falls 10 feet and dies. But not from the fall. Medical examiner “determined she died as a result of scald burns with inhalational thermal injury, along with blunt force injury to her chest.”

Scald burns with inhalational thermal injury. What. The Fuck. Why is it so hot down there? Putting on my best Karen outfit, I researched. Because – I wanted to know. Just in case I’m not cognizant of my surroundings when stepping out of my vehicle while parked on a city street, where does this scalding danger come from? What do I need to be aware of?

I learned these are utility tunnels that house steam pipes and other utility components. These temperatures can easily exceed 180 degrees F. Crazy, right?

Coming off the heels of the passing of our own Abby, Chuck’s eulogy of his baby, Lao, hits hard.

Chuck opines that the true cost of pet ownership includes the inevitable loss. Beautiful words if you’ve got the time.

Also, fuck cancer.

17 years ago, the sweetest Cockapoo was bornt. We wouldn’t know about her until 2012, when we were looking for a small dog to be a sister to our OG (Original Girl), Dolly. El Paso had this store called The Saddle Blanket, though it has been long gone since then. The Humane Society or Animal Rescue League would hold adoption fairs at The Saddle Blanket from time to time. This would be the first time we met Abby. We wanted to adopt her but then at the last minute they said no, we couldn’t. They just realized she had already been adopted out.

A few weeks later as we were at the shelter, still looking, there she was again. Abby had been returned. The reason? Did not play well with children. Knowing Abby now the way we do, we know that was a damned lie! Abby was a sweetheart to everyone. Kids. Adults. It didn’t matter.

Even though we adopted Abby for Dolly, Dolly would never play with her. Not for lack of trying. Abby tried and tried to get Dolly to play-fight with her; chase her around. Dolly would have none of it. It wouldn’t be until Bailey entered the picture that Dolly entered the fight. And what amazing fights they were! Glorious battles fought out at Casa Basil Cigar and Whiskey Lounge. Almost every night there would be wrestle-mania-worthy fight for about 25 minutes.

Abby and Dolly would fight over moths. Not play fighting either. They both wanted the moth. On warm summer nights I’d bat a moth out of the air and it would go flying down to the ground. They’d both pounce it. Same with crickets. They loved trying to catch crickets.

Abby was also a hugger. You couldn’t hold her like a normal dog. She would force her way to where her belly was against your chest and she would wrap her paws around your neck – both sides – and hug you. Every time she would encounter a new vet or groomer, they would all say the same thing, “Oh my! She’s a hugger!”

Abby’s fur was as velvety-smooth as the Velveteen Rabbit. Abby’s heart was made of gold. She would see the turtle struggling with trying to crawl over the landscaping bricks to get into the shrubbery bed, and she would run over to nudge the turtle right over into the bed.

Over the last year her endurance rapidly diminished. The duration and lengths of her walks declined. She’s the only dog that has hiked Dog Canyon Trail with us. Her hips were sore afterwards. She went legally blind, lost most of her hearing, and arthritis claimed her joints. The last few days she really went downhill. Wouldn’t (couldn’t?) eat. I even tried to give her some ribeye last night. No dice. She smelled it and turned her head. She was about to starve to death. It was time to make that decision.

Eating. That was probably the biggest difference between when Dolly went versus Abby. Dolly ate up to the last minute! We even got her a cheeseburger and nuggets on the way to the vet. I even brought along a piece of chocolate. That forbidden fruit for dogs. Hey, she’s gonna be dead by night’s end. Let her enjoy some fuckin’ chocolate. But once that ball started rolling, I forgot all about the chocolate. So I ate it myself afterwards. Not Abby. She hadn’t eaten in 3 days and still wouldn’t eat steak.

Abby’s final camping trip with us was to Three Rivers Campground in the Lincoln National Forest. She seemed to have so much energy there. She even walked through the river. She loved water – rivers and lakes. Loved swimming. In her blindness, when we would pick her up and just hold her over the floor, she’d do the doggy paddle. Just in case we were going to throw her in a lake, I guess.

You were the sweetest girl, Abby. You brought many smiles to us and complete strangers. We’ll miss you.