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First thing: grilling isn't barbecue. Grilling is hot and fast, right over the fire: burgers, steaks, hot dogs. Barbecue is low and slow, beside the fire, in the smoke, for hours, and it's for the tough cuts, the ones with a lot of fat and connective tissue that turn tender if you give them time. Down here, barbecue is a noun. You don't "have a barbecue." You eat it.

Here's what we've learned in three seasons and a lot of backyard practice. None of it is secret. If you want secrets, you'll have to beat us first.

That's the whole game, in degrees Fahrenheit, measured at the grate where the meat sits, not on the cheap dial on the lid, which lies. Lower than 225 and you're cooking too slow and the meat sits too long in the danger zone (see the bottom of this page). Higher than about 275 and the outside cooks before the inside has a chance to get tender. Pick a number in there and hold it. The steadier the fire, the better the meat. Every great pitmaster I've met is mostly just a person who can keep a fire steady for fourteen hours.

In West Tennessee it's hickory. That's not a law, it's just what grows here and what our granddaddies used. Oak is good. Apple and cherry are good for ribs and chicken (we mix a little apple in for ribs). Mesquite is for Texas, and they can have it. Never pine or any wood with sap in it, never anything painted or treated, and never green wood.

Use seasoned, split wood, and burn it in a clean fire. What you want coming out of the stack is a thin blue smoke you can barely see. Thick white smoke billowing out like a house fire means the fire is choking, and it'll make the meat bitter. More smoke is not better. Clean smoke is better.

The dark, crusty, chewy outside of a pork shoulder or a brisket. It's the rub, the smoke and the heat all working on the surface for hours, drying it out and browning it till it's nearly black. It is not burnt. Carrie's grandmother tried to cut it off the first time we fed her and Dad almost cried. At a contest, the judges want to see it. At home, everybody fights over it.

Cut a slice of good smoked meat and you'll see a pink band just under the bark, maybe a quarter inch deep. That's the smoke ring. It's a chemical reaction between the gases in wood smoke and the meat's natural color, which keeps that outer layer pink even after it's fully cooked. It's a sign of a real wood fire and a long cook. It does not mean the meat is undercooked. I have explained this to more relatives than I can count. Use a thermometer and stop worrying about the pink.

This is the one that makes new cooks crazy. You put a pork shoulder on at midnight. The temperature inside the meat climbs nicely for a few hours, and then somewhere around 150 to 165 degrees it just stops. For two hours. Sometimes four. The fire's fine, the smoker's at 235, and the meat just sits there like it's waiting on a bus. Some folks call it the plateau.

Nobody I've talked to can tell you for certain why it happens. Some say it's the fat and the connective tissue melting. Some say it's the juices sweating out to the surface and cooling the meat off as they dry, like you sweat on a hot day. Dad says it's the meat being stubborn. Whatever it is, don't crank the heat. Be patient. It will break, and the temperature will start climbing again. If you're running out of time, you can wrap it tight in heavy foil, which will push it through faster. You'll lose a little bark, but you'll eat before midnight.

This is the cook to learn on. It's cheap, it's forgiving, and it feeds a crowd. Get a Boston butt (the top part of the shoulder) of 8 to 10 pounds, bone in.

1. The night before: trim off any big hard chunks of fat, but leave a good layer. Rub it all over with your rub, generous, a quarter cup or more. Wrap it in plastic and keep it in the refrigerator overnight. Not on the counter. Not in the truck.
2. Light the fire and get the smoker steady at 225 to 250 before the meat goes on. This takes an hour. Don't rush it.
3. Meat on, fat side up, straight from the refrigerator. Shut the lid. Write down the time.
4. Leave it alone. Every time you open the lid you lose heat and add time. Check the fire, not the meat. If you want, spray it with a little apple juice every hour or so after the first three hours. It helps the bark. Mostly it gives you something to do.
5. Figure about an hour and a half per pound at 225 to 250, so a 9-pound butt is around 13 or 14 hours. That's a guess, not a promise. The meat's done when it's done, not when the clock says.
6. Somewhere in the middle, the stall. See above. Breathe.
7. It's done for pulling at about 195 to 200 degrees inside, in the thickest part, away from the bone. The bone should wiggle loose when you tug it. That's well past the safe temperature for pork. It's that high because that's where the connective tissue finally melts and the meat falls apart.
8. Rest it. Wrap it in foil, then in an old towel, and put it in an empty cooler for an hour. It stays hot and the juices settle.
9. Pull it with two forks or your hands (heat-proof gloves), throw out the bone and the big chunks of fat, mix the bark in with the rest, and serve it with the sauce on the side. Let people sauce their own. If the meat is good, they won't need much.

Contests get inspected, and they should. Food poisoning will ruin a lot more than your score. These are the rules we cook by, at contests and at home:

• Keep raw meat cold, 40 degrees or below, until it goes on the smoker. That means a refrigerator or a cooler with plenty of ice, and a thermometer in the cooler. Bobby's cooler has a thermometer in it. Ask him about it. He'll tell you.
• The danger zone is 40 to 140 degrees. That's where bacteria grow fastest. Raw meat shouldn't sit in it, and cooked meat shouldn't either.
• Keep raw and cooked apart. Separate cutting boards, separate knives, separate platters. Never put cooked meat back on the plate the raw meat came out on. Wash your hands every time you touch raw meat, and change gloves.
• Use a thermometer. An instant-read one costs about ten dollars and is the most important tool on the team. Pork should reach at least 160 inside. Chicken should reach 180 in the thigh. Our pulled pork goes way past that, and that's fine.
• Hot food stays hot, at 140 or above, if you're holding it to serve. If you're not, cool it fast.
• Two hours, tops, for cooked food sitting out. One hour if it's over 90 degrees outside, which at a Tennessee contest in July it always is. Then into the refrigerator in shallow pans so it cools quick, and reheat leftovers to 165.
• When in doubt, throw it out. Meat is cheaper than the emergency room.

That's it. That's barbecue. Steady fire, clean smoke, good meat, a lot of patience, and something cold to drink in the lawn chair. Go try it this weekend and e-mail us how it came out. If it came out great, tell us what you put in the rub.