"big green egg" news and stories

Photo: terren in virginia, Flickr.

So much for putting a wiener on a stick and calling it dinner.

Campground cooking, once the province of anyone who could wrap a potato in tin foil, is becoming increasingly sophisticated. Vicki Loughner, who's coordinating the 2009 South Carolina Campground Cookoff, reports it's not uncommon for campers today to get cracking on a recipe for spinach sausage quiche.

"They are very serious about the cooking they do," Loughner, project manager for the Old 96 District Tourism Commission, says of the teams registered for this weekend's competition. "When you look at their food, you'd never know it was cooked over a campfire."

In pursuit of the $500 prize, some entrants this year have purchased their own Big Green Egg, the fetishized grill with the startling price tag. But Loughner says it's not just the promise of riches that's inspiring outdoorsy gourmands to up their dinner game. According to Loughner, more and more South Carolina campers are applying their "Top Chef" sensibilities to campground menu planning.

A 1970s Atlanta invention likened to the culinary equivalent of a Swiss Army Knife expands its fan base, as 'Eggheads' flock to classes to learn how to grill, smoke and make enchiladas on the Big Green Egg.

First came the Egg, then the chicken, and now it's escargot.

The Big Green Egg barbecue grill has attracted legions of devoted fans since its debut at an Atlanta strip mall in the early 1970s, with the company reporting double-digit spikes in sales almost every year. Aficionados -- the proper term is "eggheads" -- are infatuated with the ceramic grill's capacity to quickly attain temperatures that approximate Venusian weather (think 800-degree heat) and its knack for being easy to clean.

Indeed, ease and simplicity define the Egg experience: Company spokeswoman Donna Myers says some buyers use their Eggs to stage full-scale dinner parties the very day they buy them.

"It doesn't take very much skill at all," Myers says.

Unlike most grills, the Egg apparently doesn't require backyard cooks to precisely arrange charcoal briquettes, scatter grapefruit peels beneath its grate or utter any spells to produce delicious results. To compensate for the lack of inherent challenge, Eggheads have sought to prove their prowess by adapting every known recipe for their beloved cookers. Having mastered chicken and steak during the Carter administration, veteran Big Green Egg owners have lately moved on to escargot, moose and baked brie.

"It's very competitive," Myers says. "We see lots of unbelievably creative folks."

While the Big Green Egg in its current trademarked form is a relatively recent innovation, inventor Ed Fisher drew inspiration from Asia's kamado cookers, which many U.S. servicemen first discovered while stationed on the Pacific front. The Big Green Egg's direct antecedent -- Japan's mushikamado, a close cousin to India's tandoor -- likely evolved from a clay pot cooking method pioneered in China more than 3,000 years ago.

Like the mushikamado, the Big Green Egg is controlled through vents, which Myers says accounts for the cooker's tremendous versatility. The Big Green Egg, a culinary version of a Swiss army knife, can grill, smoke or bake. Eggheads -- who spend between $259.95 for a mini Egg to $999.95 for the XL model -- are doing all of the above.

"There used to be a joke that you could cook anything on an Egg but ice cream," says chef Bobby Cresap, who helms the Big Green Egg Academy. "Well, I cooked a baked Alaska."

According to Cresap, the Egghead community is periodically seized by fads that dominate cookers' imaginations and online forum discussions. This summer, the object of Egghead obsession is enchiladas, a multi-part preparation that brilliantly exploits the Egg's various functions.

The most ambitious enchilada makers are conscripting their Eggs to serve as tortilla ovens, baking fresh corn tortillas in which to wrap their Egg-smoked pork. "Then they're putting it all in a lasagna pan and throwing it back on," Cresap explains. "It's just always something new."

Enchiladas will likely make an appearance at Eggtoberfest, the biggest and most well-known of the regional extravaganzas on the Egghead calendar. Many dishes have been struck from the Holy Grail list at the annual celebration in Atlanta, including dog biscuits and Philly cheesesteaks. A team of Alaskan Eggheads one year showed off their whole salmon recipe, while another size-minded team whipped up a 10-pound hamburger.

"These people live, eat and breathe Big Green Egg," Myers says. "They would give you their first-born, dog and truck before they'd give you their Egg."

For the Egg-curious who haven't yet been fully indoctrinated in Egghead culture, the Big Green Egg this fall plans to roll out its first-ever national schedule of company-sponsored classes. While classes have long been offered at the Atlanta campus, Cresap called the initiative "a new opportunity."

"Basically, what happens is a lot of people are running classes," he continues. "But they do one or two and then they're out of ideas."

Cresap has formulated the curriculum for the two-hour classes, which include Big Green Egg 101, in which students are taught how to load charcoal, light the Egg and cook a chicken, and Big Green Egg 102, which delves into pizza and ribs.

"Some people want to be spoon fed the information," says Cresap, who uses his Egg when competing on the professional barbecue circuit.

Cresap says the classes' big draw isn't necessarily his material, which is parroted on the DVD included with every Egg sold, but his samples.

"They start smelling charcoal, and, before you know it, everyone's having a good time," he says. "Literally, everyone who leaves here wants to come back."

Buy a Big Green Egg at Amazon.

I just came across a wonderful collaborative discussion of grilling and  barbecuing that's featured on Slate this week. Cooking With Fire is a series of e-mails between food writer/chef Sara Dickerman, Chris Schlesinger and renowned grilling and 'cue guru Steven Raichlen, (pictured).

Dickerman starts off the e-mail chain with a question that no meathead worthy of their Weber should ever pose: Is gas better than charcoal? To be fair, she clearly declares herself a staunch advocate of wood and charcoal and seems to raise the question in the interest of open-mindedness.

Here's just a lump of Schlesinger's take on charcoal vs. gas: "Gas only burns two-thirds as hot as live coals ... the characteristic flavor of grilled food comes from ... high heat, the ensuing browning ... deeply concentrated flavor." Raichlen,  a man after my 'cue and smoke loving alter ego Joey Deckle's heart, avoids the charcoal vs. gas debate entirely. His favorite fuel? Good old wood.

Highlights of the discussion include the best ways to grill fish, the pros and cons of using a Big Green Egg,  what type of rubs go best with what types of meats and the mysteries of roasting pig on a caja china.

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