We were hosting a sort of fun baby shower/last fun they’ll ever have BBQ for our friends Kurt and Bethany this weekend, and Bethany has a thing for smoked beef ribs, so I thought i’d cook some up.

As any good meat smoker does, mine runs on charcoal. I prefer lump style, as it burns longer and requires less babysitting. I use a small aluminum chimney to fire up the charcoal before putting it in the smoker, its faster and less smelly than using lighter fluid. Now, i don’t know if its an issue only with the charcoal i tend to buy, or whether its all charcoal, but when first being lit, it can be a bit smokey – once its going, its fine. But the first 10 minutes produce some puffy white clouds.

I start the charcoal going on the smoker grate in the middle of my all gravel back yard and head inside to get the ribs ready. It should be noted here that I can see the smoker from the kitchen, so I’m able to keep an eye on it the whole time.

I’m mid-way through applying my rub, when the doorbell rings. At the front door is a man I don’t know, looking rather nervous. He says he lives a few doors down and that he’s worried my shed is on fire. I explain that I’m firing some charcoal, that it’s a bit smokey at first, and that everything is fine. I thank him for his concern and go back to rubbing my ribs.

I’m nearly done when I hear a siren. I think nothing of it for a minute, but just as I say to myself “there’s no way he…” the door bell rings again. Sure enough standing on my porch are a number of firemen in full regalia and two trucks on the street. I explain what I’m up to as we walk to the back, and they all remark with some interest at the ribs in the kitchen as we march past.

We get to the back yard where by now the charcoal has been going for long enough that it’s not smoking anymore. Like, not at all. You’d have to put your hand over it to tell its going. I show them the smoker, and given the proximity to anything else it’s clear that its preposterously safe. Conveniently for me as well, Sara’s left the hose out which they notice. Essentially, I am having the safest bbq they have ever witnessed. They make no recommendations. Not even a “be careful” as it’s obvious I’m a man in my element, and with everything perfectly under control. As I walk them out, they chuckle about what time they should come back for dinner. I thank them for their efforts, and wish them a good day. I could hear them laugh about it on the street as they piled back into the trucks.

Now, first up, if you think there is a fire, I would totally rather have you call 911 than not. The fire dept seems more than happy not to find a problem, and were my life/stuff in jeopardy I would be crazy happy to see them. But, if you’ve called 911, and THEN come over, you should really give me a heads up to expect the fire department – the friendly choice, no?

Also, for the most part, when things that shouldn’t be on fire are actually on fire, like for instance my large plastic shed, it’s the stinkiest thick black smoke. But that might be being picky.

The ribs turned out delicious, and i also discovered a great new sauce for em.