Brisket and BoSox, both sweet

We had a "commune" dinner on Sunday, six Adults, four children and a big smoked brisket.

Brisket was procured on Thursday, AAA Angus beef, and rubbed on Saturday with a mixture of paprika, coarse salt, pepper, sugar, elephant garlic and ground poblano chilis then left overnight. Daughter and "almost four" T-Money helped apply the rub, with great pleasure. I also prepared a "mop" for the brisket combining beer, cider vinegar and vegetable oil with a half cup of the rub and some habanero sauce, simmered for 30 minutes to reduce slightly, reserving 1/2 cup of mop for future use.

The brisket entered the smoker early Sunday morning and, despite some temperature control issues, was pronounced 150 degrees by around 4 pm. The beast was wrapped in foil and placed in a low oven (150) until dinner time. I prepared a sauce using the reserved mop and a commercial BBQ sauce, Wild Turkey BBQ sauce direct from Tennessee, while potatoes were roasted and corks popped. At 6ish dinner was served and the brisket was almost perfect, just slightly dry but with tremendous flavour and, sadly, none leftover. Wine was a Spanish Garnacha, Las Rocas, which had tons of ripe fruit and enough tannin to complement the smoky brisket.

Dessert was an incredibly rich, but not too sweet, chocolate pecan pie. The only downside, besides the lack of brisket remains, was that inclement weather precluded outdoor dining.

On a happier note the entire population of RedSox Nation have their heads in paper bags this morning trying to stop hyperventilating while an endless loop of September 1978 plays in their heads. It's September 19th and the once insurmountable lead over the Yankees has shrunk to 2 1/2 games.

This is sweet indeed, maybe sweeter than brisket, as I get to observe, on a daily basis, the misery of the RedSox faithful. I want to email every pundit who wrote off the Yankees and declared the RedSox divisional title a "sure thing" and ask them how they feel, but it would take too long.

The shift in collective body language between the two teams speaks volumes as the Yankees have their swagger back while Boston appears tentative and nervous like a runner constantly looking over his shoulder waiting to be caught......... and passed.

The funny thing is I still believe the RedSox will hang on and win the division in fact I think they're a mortal lock, but regardless the next 12 days should provide some great viewing.