I intended to take several pictures of my second effort with pulled pork. My camera was in my bag and my bag was in my car and you all know that I am not about to haul my fat, crippled ass all the way out to the garage just to take a picture of some raw meat. (However, all bets are off when I am healed and walking like a real person. When that happens, I am back to taking pictures of crazy shit. I'll try to give you some notice.)
Here's how it went: I brined a pork shoulder for 8 hours yesterday. Beginning at 7:30 a.m. this morning , I put a dry rub on the pork and popped that bad boy a slow oven for what was suppose to be 12 hours. Fifteen hours later, the internal temperature of the meat was 4 degrees short of where it was suppose to be according to the recipe. I was getting sleepy and what's 4 degrees, anyway?
Here is where the smell comes in - my house smelled amazing. It was like living in the backroom of Famous Dave's.
Anyway, I turned the oven off, as directed and let the meat sit in the oven until the internal temperature went down to 170 degrees. After 2 hours (TWO HOURS!!) the temperature had fallen 10 degrees. This had all the makings of a very long night.
I decided that sleep was more important than following a recipe (at my age, sleep is second only to a daily bowel movement) so I took the meat out and shredded it.
It. Was. The. Best. Pulled. Pork. Ever. In. The. World. End. Of. Story.
and it only took 17 hours!
