"is it done yet?"

There's a new store in Culver City, one that was seemingly built just for me. 

Allow me to elaborate. 

Last weekend Ms. Muse and I were talking about brisket and how it had been quite a long time since I had smoked one. Indeed it had, not only because I had switched to an all-salmon regimen in order to maintain my girlish figure. But also because my attempts at brisket had always been hit or miss. 

And to be honest the hits weren't that great. Nowhere near the mouth-watering brisket one could get at any dime store, gas station or acute care clinic in Texas.

And the misses...well, you could have carved a dozen pair of dress shoes out of the meat I "obliterated" on my Traeger Grill.

But now I'm a retired Man of Leisure and have the time and patience to nurse this hunk of beef to fruition. OK, I have the time. 

So I decided to swing by my local Pavilion Grocery Store and pick up a flat or a point and try my luck again. However, like everything else in America, the goods and services we once took for granted are no longer at our disposal. Like TSA agents. Or politicians with a moral compass. The meat department at Pavilion didn't have any briskets. They also don't have meat counter people who know anything at all.

Turns out the next shipment was stuck somewhere in the Strait of Hormuz.

I had all but given up on the mission: Epic Meat Glory (strained, I know). But on my trip to the local Office Max to get poster boards for the Saturday's No King Protest, I spied the Grill House across the street.

BTW, here's one of the signs I made today with said poster board. More Red Hat triggering posters are coming.

The Grill House is Carnivore Nirvana. 

John, my new best friend behind the counter, went to the walk in fridge and brought out a 13 lbs. packer, that's meat man talk. He told me it was American Wagyu. And only $12/lbs. I told him I wasn't feeding an orphanage and he offered to cut open this couch-size cut and carve me off a 5 lbs. hunk.

Yeah, wipe that drool from your chin. 

Last night I applied some Hard Core dry rub, which I also picked up at the Grill Store, which I may or may not start calling The GS. And right now, as you read this, it's sitting inside my Traeger smoker, already working on a delicious and chewy bark that will be induce a bevy of "OMG"s. 

I know this because I have my alarm set for 5:30 in the morning so the Wagyu can cook low and slow at 225 degrees for a full 12 hours.

Good night readers. Good night LuluBell, I'll you bright and early.