Lee Geiger

Life is too short to stuff a mushroom.

Storm Jackson

I had piddled around a bit. Gotten my feet wet. Had few big hits, made a couple of costly errors. Some efforts were better than others, but for the most part I had managed not to embarrass myself. But now was the time to step up, to test myself, to make the leap into the big leagues. I needed to put on my big boy pants, strap on a pair, venture beyond my comfort zone, and become more than I ever thought I could be. So, I dug deep, manned up, brushed out the knots in my chest hair and took the courageous leap of faith.

I dialed 1-800-T-R-A-E-G-E-R.

A Trager grill is the Holy Grail of wood-fired smokers. And its mouth-watering recipes, be it for sweet and tangy beef brisket, fall-off-the-bone ribs or savory salmon steaks, are the gold standard for any backyard barbeque. Only those knuckle-dragging carnivores serious about smoking meats, who aren’t afraid to go to bed smelling like a pile of burnt hickory chips or kissing their spouse while wearing a smear of Sweet Baby Rays in their beards, need apply.

Over the years, I had earned a reputation as a half-decent charcoal BBQ dude, someone who could get by without doing too much damage to a slab of red meat. But I didn’t like venturing much beyond steaks and chops. To be honest, I was just barely doing enough to justify my Man Card. But The Pretty Blonde, in a desire for her spatula-challenged husband to expand beyond his obvious limitations, took it upon herself to surprise me with a smoker for a 2018 Christmas present. I didn’t know how to react at first. Was she trying to send me a message? Yes, it turns out. After nearly three decades of marriage, I discovered this sweet, blue-eyed delicate flower of mine LOVES smoked meats, especially the kind that pair well with a glass of something big and bold and red from Napa Valley. The Boss Lady of the House had thrown down the gauntlet, and I accepted her challenge.

My first smoker was a simple three-foot tall steel box from Masterbuilt. Picture in your mind a smoker on training wheels. It was okay to use, though the analog temperature gauge made it difficult to control the heat, and I was forever having to refill the pellet tray. Yet the very first tri-tip I cooked turned out GREAT, and a monster was created. But now for bad news: after a half-dozen uses, I cleaned the smoker with soap and water, latched the door shut and put it in the shed. Two weeks later, I unlocked the hatch and was warmly greeted by a mass of mold. Seriously, I’m so much dumber than I look sometimes.

I ordered another Masterbuilt, only this one came with a digital thermostat. That feature alone made a HUGE difference, and soon I was smoking enough chicken and ribs to feed a horde of rednecks. I even smoked a pork butt, and the resulting pork sliders had The Pretty Blonde smiling at me like she did on our wedding night. Little did I know that mesquite pellets could have the same effect on our marriage as Viagra.

But the maximum temperature on the Masterbuild was only 275 degree, and I wanted to have the ability to sear meat on the grill. Because, as any griller worth his rub will tell you, searing meat at high temperatures seals in the juices and makes the food taste oh-so-much-better. That’s when I knew I had to seek professional help.

I called Traeger on May 6. Having done my research, I order the Timberline Series 850 Pellet Grill, Traeger’s top-of-the-line model. This two-hundred-pound beast features three levels of stainless-steel grates, double-walled insulation, a pellet sensor and auger, a temperature probe, and a digital menu worthy of NASA. Not only can this magnificent piece of cookery dial up to 500 degrees, but it’s also wireless, meaning that you connect the controls to your phone’s Bluetooth. How awesome is that! Zippy the Monkey couldn’t burn a brisket if he tried.

But what a pain in my pitchfork it was to get it home. Told it would arrive on my doorstep in two weeks, the reality of pandemic shopping soon became evident. Have you tried buying a bike lately? Or a piece of home exercise equipment. Heck, even rescue dogs are hard to come by. Two weeks became three. Then four. Then more. I called Traeger’s customer service department so often we began inquiring about family members. Finally, after making a complete nuisance of myself, the smoker arrived on June 30^th.

You know what’s better than the smoking a ten-pound prime rib for a socially distant backyard BBQ entertaining your neighbors on the weekend with a glass of Chateau de Expensive in your hand? Not much.