Gas might be convenient, but charcoal is king when it comes to making the most of your summer barbecuing experience

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      Because summer is prime barbecue weather, this is a good time to ask a big question: what would the legendary Tootsie Tomanetz have you cooking on? A Creamsicle-orange US$11,000 Hestan 42-Inch natural gas grill with ceramic infrared burners, and motion-activated “stadium lights”? Or a US$209.99 Char-Griller Smokin’ Champ?

      If you’re a fan of classic Texas barbecue, Chef’s Table, and crazily spry 86-year-olds who still manage their own fire pits, then you know the answer. When it comes to barbecuing, gas is convenient, but charcoal wins for maximum flavour. In the market for a new barbecue, looking to upgrade, or just venturing into the world of live-fire-seared smoked beef, chicken, pork, duck, fish, buffalo, venison, turkey, and quail?

      Assuming you don’t live in a condo where the neighbours will rightly complain, charcoal is the way to go. But here’s the thing: there’s a learning curve that you don’t have to think about with propane or natural gas. Yes, human beings have been cooking on live fire since they were hanging out in caves. But that doesn’t always mean they’re good at it.

      Before we get to the hands-on part of charcoal grilling, let’s start with the most important thing: the grill. A sad lack of finances aside, there’s nothing stopping you from blowing a mortgage payment or two on a top-end barbecue.

      Should you have a spare $10,000 kicking around, indulge yourself with a 1,700-pound, 42-inch Komodo Kamado Serious Big Bad barbecue. The wildly popular Big Green Egg brand, meanwhile, will, depending on the size, run you from $800 up to $2,500 for the XLarge. Famously dependable Weber offers everything from budget portable units (Smokey Joe Gold charcoal grill, $60) to budget-blowing options (Summit Kamado S6 Grill Center, $2,300).

      But there’s no real need to get extra-fancy with a charcoal barbecue. Punch a few holes in the side of a tin bucket for air flow, throw a grate on the top, and you have something that will cook everything from a beautifully marbled rib-eye to chicken yakitori.

      My go-to is currently a Char-Griller Smokin’ Champ, scored a few years back on sale at the Bellingham Fred Meyer for US$130. While not particularly covetable (a good thing in East Van, where everything not nailed down eventually goes missing), it’s perfectly functional. No one complains when the cherry-wood-smoked ribs or cedar-planked salmon comes off the grill.

      Now for the cooking.

      Ask your grandfather how he got his Kingsford briquets going, and the answer will likely be a jerry-can of gasoline or half a squeeze-bottle of Ronsonol lighter fuel. Today, we know that both lead to an upleasant aftertaste. Instead, pick up a chimney starter where you pack the bottom with newspaper or paraffin starter cubes and the top with charcoal. Light the paper, and a half-hour later you’ve got glowing hot coals that you can dump into the barbecue. Even better and less messy, opt for an electric lighter wand, which plugs into an extension cord, gets red hot instantly, and then ignites your charcoal in about 10 minutes.

      On the subject of charcoal, you’ve got options, all with pros and cons. Most expensive is lump charcoal, which burns hot but loses heat quickly—which means plenty of restoking if you’re smoking a brisket for 10 hours. Hardwood briquettes mix crushed charcoal with binders to give grillers coals that are uniform in shape, making it different from lump charcoal. Kingsford-style briquettes, meanwhile, add soft coal along with limestone to the mix, making for a long burn.

      To really kick things up on the flavour front, augment whatever charcoal you prefer with wood chunks or chips, which come in mesquite, hickory, apple, cherry, oak, maple, pecan, and more. That smoke is where the smokey goodness comes in, whether you’re doing a Tex-Mex flank steak, Vietnamese chicken thighs, or lake-caught trout.

      It’s important to note that too much wood will instantly ruin a good thing. No one wants pork chops that smell like a house fire, so you want nothing more than a delicate plume coming out of the barbecue vent. So rather than plopping six chunks of wood right in the middle of your charcoal and then closing all the vents so there’s no oxygen flow, soak one piece for an hour, and then place it at the edge of the coals where it will burn slowly. Leave the vent open half-way.

      As far as the actual cooking process goes, charcoal barbecues burn way hotter than gas ones. Place a steak on a grill, wander away distractedly to get a beer, and it doesn’t take long to end up with burnt offerings.

      Charcoal barbecues are usually set up so you can raise or lower the coals, with the hand test offering an easy way to tell how hot things are. Put your hand five inches about the grill—if you feel the burn in two to four seconds, you’ve got the gas-barbecue equivalent of high heat. For medium you’re looking at five to seven seconds, with eight to 10 seconds indicating low.

      The heat level is important. A pork tenderloin cooked on direct medium for 15 to 20 minutes will be juicy and pink, whereas the same time on direct high will give you what might as well be a club. A whole chicken placed on direct high-heat coals for an hour will have the texture of a charred football, but cook it via indirect medium heat and the juices will flow even after you’ve tented it for 10 minutes.

      Don’t know what indirect-medium or tenting is? Because private lessons with Tootsie Tomanetz probably aren’t an option, do yourself a huge favour and pick up Jamie Purviance’s highly educational Weber’s Charcoal Grilling: The Art of Cooking With Live Fire. And remember, even if you ruin a meal or two while getting a handle on charcoal this summer season, no one’s judging you. Because at least you’re not standing in the back yard shrieking “Now we’re cooking with gas!” 

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