SILENCE OF THE LAMB.

I hate Sundays. I’ve hated them throughout my entire life.

I hated them as a kid, because it meant that my two sacred days of watching late night TV had ended.

I hated them as an adult living in the US, because it meant that I had to return to work the next morning—and, cruelly enough, it also meant that work-related stress would return right around bedtime.

But above all, I hate them in Spain. Why? Because a Sunday in Spain means that everything is closed and there is NOTHING to do.

It’s for this reason that I woke up this morning in a panic.

“Sunday! Nothing to do! Dangerous! Very dangerous!”

Believe me, folks—I really, REALLY don’t relax well. In fact, I can’t even begin to fathom what other people find so relaxing about relaxing.

My body tenses like an over-tuned violin string. My teeth start grinding like a mortar and pestle. And my mind starts wandering into neighborhoods where no mind ought to wander.

“Must occupy myself! Must occupy myself!” I cried as I leaped from bed and bounded down the staircase.

I started rifling through cabinets. I tore through magazine racks. I scanned the neighborhood for any signs of life. It was all for naught. Until...I opened the refrigerator door.

And there—staring me right in the face—were a leg of lamb, a whole chicken, a sweet potato and a COCONUT.

My trapezius softened. My head tilted back. I let out a long, drawn-out, quasi-orgasmic breath. And then—refocusing my gaze on those four objects sitting on the refrigerator shelf—I snarled, “You’re smoked!”

Enter The Salivator.

We all know the procedure by now. I fired up the charcoals (Minion Method, for those who are interested), and turned my attention toward prepping the food.

The first order of business was to name the meat. This is important, because Q’g can take anywhere from five to fifteen hours. And given that I live alone...I need someone or something to talk with during that long haul.

I named the leg of lamb “PATCHES” and the chicken “CORKY.” There was no need to name the other items, because—as we all know—lambs and chickens have a tendency to dominate conversations.

PATCHES had been marinading overnight in a mixture of one part Kikoman Soy Sauce and two parts vegetable oil. CORKY was in a brine of 6 T. table salt, 3/4 cup of sugar and 1 quart of water.

I removed and dried them both. I dusted PATCHES with a dry rub called “Magic Dust” (recipe can be found in the book “Peace, Love and Barbecue” by Mike Mills).

I washed the as-yet-unnamed sweet potato and jabbed it several times with a fork.

And then, I sawed the COCONUT in half. If you think sawing a COCONUT is easy, then think again. It took ten minutes and I’m damn lucky to have escaped with all my fingers.

I somehow squeezed all this food on The Salivator’s top grate, shoved a digital probe thermometer into PATCHES, and closed the lid.

And then I sat down, and commenced a conversation with PATCHES and CORKY that ran the gamut from middle-eastern politics...to animal husbandry...to the best method for making hats out of yarn and empty beer cans.

I removed the COCONUT after three hours—which was probably an hour too much, because it was a bit dry. But interesting, nonethless. Smoky COCONUT is very niiiice!

At hour four, CORKY'S breast was at 160F and her thigh was at 170F. Time for her to come off!


She was so beautiful, I almost didn't want to shred her. But shred her I did, because CORKY gave her life so that my daughter can have chicken salad for dinner tomorrow night. Sorry, CORKER. I didn't invent the food chain. I just follow it.

At hour four and a half, PATCHES hit 170F. He was drop-dead gorgeous. I wrapped him and the sweet potato in heavy-duty aluminum foil, and put them into an empty beer cooler. They sat in there for another hour...keeping toasty warm while PATCHES re-absorbed his juices.


Finally, I sliced and then chopped PATCHES into little bits, served him on Wonder bread and drizzled with an Owensboro, Kenucky-style "black sauce" (i.e., Worchester sauce, white vinegar, lemon juice, brown sugar and garlic).

And, so...I successfully navigated the pitfalls of another Sunday. All thanks to PATCHES, CORKY and COCONUT.

In case you're wondering, I'm going to have a salad for dinner.