My neighbor Chris, a man of noble appetite and impeccable palate, invited us over for a Sunday barbecue. It was the much-hyped, much-feared “Carmageddon” weekend, in which the busiest freeway in the country would be shut down for two days. No one was going anywhere. So the commute 50 or so feet to the Watermans’ house sounded perfect. And I took it as a good omen when I saw Chris out in his pajamas at 8 a.m. that morning, tending to his smoker.
The Man & his smoker, "R2D2"
Chris hails from Florida, close enough to the smoking belt of the Deep South to count. More
skinny girls & mayonnaise 