Memorial Day: A Recipe, and Reminiscences

We were going to smoke a beef brisket on the grill today, and thank heavens I had a backup plan, eh? Of the three days of this Memorial Day weekend, why did it have to rain buckets today? I imagine this weather is putting the kibosh on many Champaign-area residents' outdoor plans. Instead of onto the grill, our brisket went into the Crock-Pot. The result was fabulous! Tender, flavorful meat that we later chopped and ate in sandwiches.

Slow-Cooker Barbecued Beef Brisket
Slightly adapted from a recipe on About.com

For the marinade/sauce:

• 1 cup barbecue sauce (I used Gates brand)
• 1 tablespoon brown sugar
• 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
• 1 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1 teaspoon Tony Chachere's Creole seasoning
• 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
• 1 teaspoon dry mustard
• 1 tablespoon smoked paprika

For the meat:

• One 3-pound beef brisket (ours was from Triple S Farm; look for their booth at the Urbana farmers' market)
• Coarse kosher salt

Put all the sauce ingredients in a medium bowl and whisk to combine. Wash and dry the brisket, then sprinkle coarse kosher salt all over it and rub in. Pour the sauce into a large Crock-Pot and add the meat, turning it so it's well coated. Cover and cook on low for 6 to 8 hours, until fork tender.

Remove the brisket from the slow cooker, slice against the grain and on the diagonal into thin slices, and serve, either on its own or on buns or rolls.

Note: The original recipe calls for marinating the brisket in the sauce overnight before cooking it, so you may want to try that.
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On the last Monday in May in the United States, we remember people who died while in military service. The holiday was created in honor of Union soldiers who had died in the Civil War, but it was later expanded to include Americans who'd died in any war or military action. This chilly, rainy Monday in C-U made it a good day to dig out the old photo albums and memorabilia and think about those in our own families who were in military service.

My grandfather was a medic who served in France during World War I; during World War II, my uncle flew planes in the Army Air Corps, and my father put up communications lines for the Signal Corps. (My poor father, who lied about his age—he was 17—to enlist, was a young musician laboring under the delusion that signing up meant he'd get to play the trombone in the Army band. Although he did finally get to tour with a band after returning home from New Guinea, mostly he drove trucks loaded with what would become telephone poles around hairpin turns and contracted malaria.) Keith's brother served in the Army in Vietnam; he was wounded in action and was awarded numerous medals, including a silver star and a purple heart.

Though they're no longer with us, none of the aforementioned relatives were killed while serving in the military. Even so, as we enjoy our holiday meal we'll pause to remember and raise a glass to Gordon, James, Richard, and Gary. And to hope that the seemingly impossible dream of a world free from war one day becomes a reality.