Robert F. Moss

Oh my word. Will August never end? February is the shortest month and August is by far the longest, a full 17 days longer than any other. At least it feels that way. Nothing happens in August. The month has no holidays, since there’s nothing to celebrate. The business world grinds to a halt amid last-chance beach vacations and general summertime torpor. Emails go unanswered. Meetings are canceled for lack of attendees. Those who do make it into the office arrive late and duck out early, since no one’s around to notice. It’s not just in offices, either. Civic groups and charitable organizations avoid staging events during this cruelest of months, knowing attendance will be poor. Even the world of barbecue largely comes to a standstill.

As someone born and raised in the American South, I’ve never understood why people consider barbecue a summertime food. If you do it right, barbecue is cooked outdoors over a wood fire. It’s frequently eaten outdoors, too, whether at a friend’s backyard gathering or at barbecue joints with picnic tables outside. Barbecue isn’t exactly the lightest food, with all the well-marbled brisket and thick slabs of ribs – not to mention hearty sides such as mac ’n’ cheese. Just thinking about eating a big barbecue platter on an August afternoon makes me want to lie down in a cool room to nap. Still, in the minds of magazine editors and television producers, at least, “barbecue season” starts with Memorial Day and runs through Labor Day.

Barbecue, like fireworks and flying red, white and blue flags, is one of our oldest Independence Day traditions, dating back to the early days of the American republic. A celebratory feast was the centerpiece of the holiday from the very beginning. On July 4, 1777, the Continental Congress in Philadelphia commemorated the first anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence with “an elegant dinner,” as newspapers described it, followed by rounds of toasts to liberty and the memory of those who had fallen in the ongoing war. In the decade that followed, the public dinners grew larger, and perhaps a little less elegant, as they moved outdoors and began to feature whole animals cooked on pits in the ground.

We’re almost to the end of May, which means National Barbecue Month will soon be drawing to a close. I hope you’ve been celebrating appropriately. You did know that May is National Barbecue Month, right? And that May 16 was National Barbecue Day? I, for one, can never forget, for each year my email is flooded with pitches from PR reps convinced I have completely run out of things to write about. “With it being National Barbecue Month,” one begins, “I wanted to check in and see if you have any roundups planned of must-try barbecue spots in Little Rock.”  Another generously offers, “In honor of National Barbecue Month, we’re sharing this coveted BBQ Shrimp & Grits recipe from Nashville’s [restaurant name redacted].

Memorial Day is approaching, the traditional kickoff for the American barbecue season – or for grilling season, depending on where you are in the country. In some regions – say, New Jersey and northward – if someone asks you to come over for “a barbecue” during the holiday weekend, you’re likely to find a charcoal or gas grill loaded up with hot dogs, hamburgers, or, if the host is really putting on the dog, thick ribeye steaks. Western-inspired parties took off in the 1930s – though digging a hole in the lawn was kind of a pain For most folks in the South, calling such fare “barbecue” is painful. Here we call those events “cookouts,” and we would say the hosts are “grilling,” not “barbecuing.

Easter is fast approaching, so of course I’m thinking about ham. This iconic centerpiece of the Easter dinner table isn’t usually associated with the barbecue pit – at least not anymore – but it’s time that changed. Ham and barbecue have had a long and somewhat rocky relationship. Both have smoky roots in the early American colonies – especially Virginia – but they originated separately. Europeans had a long tradition of salting and air-curing hams, but that method proved insufficient for preserving pork in the hot, humid climate of the New World. The Virginia colonists started rubbing their hams with brown sugar and salt and hanging them for weeks in smokehouses instead of out in the open air.

When I first became enamored with barbecue in the 1990s, I ate a lot of chopped pork at Carolina barbecue joints, and sometimes chicken and ribs. One thing I almost never encountered was beef, especially slow-smoked brisket. That barbecue cut remained mostly a Texas thing until well into the 21st century. A few pioneers did try to introduce it to the Carolinas over the years, with limited success. Tommy Brightwell, for instance, put brisket on the menu when he opened Pappy’s BBQ in Madison, North Carolina, in 2004. A review in the Greensboro News & Record began, “So, you think barbecue has to come in pork form only?

Some 25 years ago, I walked into the University of South Carolina library to check out a book on the history of barbecue. I had just finished a PhD in American literature, but had become more interested in culinary history. I had also taken to driving the state’s backroads, seeking out old-school barbecue restaurants. Researching the history of barbecue seemed the perfect next move. To my surprise, no one had published a book on the subject. The most that had been written about pre-20th century barbecue were a few sparse paragraphs in larger works on food history. I ended up having to write one myself. It took a while. The first edition of Barbecue: The History of an American Institution was published in 2010.

More and more Americans are turning to the barbecue pit when it’s time for holiday gatherings. Some eschew the oven and cook a pork shoulder or turkey on a backyard smoker or grill. Others outsource the work and bring home takeout trays from a local barbecue restaurant. A whole smoked brisket or pork shoulder makes for an impressive centerpiece, but this year I have a different suggestion. How about barbecued lamb? Bear with me. Lamb was once among the most popular barbecue meats. But after World War Two it all but disappeared from American pits. Over the past two decades, as aspiring backyard chefs have acquired ever-fancier offset smokers and pellet cookers, they’ve set their sights on mastering brisket, ribs and Boston butts. Lamb almost never makes it onto the menu.