By September 2021. Fall in Memphis, and I am 62, walking the neighborhood in my light jacket, watching the leaves turn on the oaks and maples that line Deadrick Avenue. The smoker is happy in fall — the cooler air holds the smoke lower, keeps it closer to the meat, and the results are always a shade better in October than in July, as if the season itself is a seasoning.
Rosetta beside me through the week, steady as ever, the woman who runs this household with the precision of a hospital ward and the heart of a mother who has loved fiercely for 37 years of marriage. Walter Jr. came by with the grandchildren, bringing the noise and energy that grandchildren bring, the house expanding to hold them the way a good pot expands to hold a good stew.
I experimented this week — smoked pork belly burnt ends, cubed and re-smoked with sauce and butter until they were sticky, caramelized, and indecent. The kind of food that makes Rosetta say "Earl, your arteries" and then eat three more pieces, because even nurses have limits, and the limit of smoked pork belly burnt ends has not yet been found by human science.
I sat in the lawn chair next to Uncle Clyde's smoker as the dark came on, and I thought about what I always think about: the chain. From Clyde to me. From me to Trey, maybe, or Jerome, or whoever comes next with the patience and the hands and the willingness to stand next to a fire at three in the morning and wait for something good to happen. The chain doesn't break. The fire doesn't stop. And I am here, 62 years old, in a lawn chair in Orange Mound, Memphis, Tennessee, watching the smoke rise, and the rising is the living, and the living is the gift.
Those smoked pork belly burnt ends — sticky, caramelized, and re-smoked with butter until they crossed some line into something almost spiritual — needed a sauce worthy of the occasion, something with the same Southern backbone as Orange Mound itself. This Nashville BBQ sauce is what I reach for when the smoke is rolling right and the grandchildren are in the yard making noise and Rosetta is somewhere nearby pretending she isn’t going to eat a fourth piece. It’s got heat, it’s got sweetness, and it finishes with that low, dark note that only makes sense next to real wood smoke — the kind of thing Uncle Clyde would have recognized, the kind of thing worth passing on.
Nashville BBQ Sauce
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 16 (about 2 cups)
Ingredients
- 1 cup ketchup
- 1/3 cup apple cider vinegar
- 1/4 cup brown sugar, packed
- 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
- 2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
- 1 tablespoon yellow mustard
- 1 tablespoon hot sauce (such as Texas Pete or Crystal)
- 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
- 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper (adjust to taste)
- 1/2 teaspoon black pepper
- 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
Instructions
- Melt and bloom. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Add the garlic powder, onion powder, smoked paprika, cayenne, and black pepper. Stir constantly for 30 to 60 seconds until fragrant — this wakes up the spices and builds the base of the sauce.
- Add the wet ingredients. Pour in the ketchup, apple cider vinegar, brown sugar, Worcestershire sauce, yellow mustard, and hot sauce. Stir well to combine everything evenly.
- Simmer low and slow. Bring the sauce to a gentle simmer over medium-low heat. Cook uncovered, stirring occasionally, for 20 to 25 minutes until the sauce thickens slightly and the flavors meld. It should coat the back of a spoon.
- Taste and adjust. Add salt to taste. For more heat, add additional cayenne or hot sauce. For more sweetness, stir in an extra teaspoon of brown sugar.
- Cool and store. Remove from heat and let cool for 10 minutes before using as a glaze or dipping sauce. Store in a sealed jar in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks.
Nutrition (per serving, approximately 2 tablespoons)
Calories: 42 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 1.5g | Carbs: 7g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 210mg