Sweet mother….this is me. Pure torture. And how many beautiful low and slow briskets do I need to watch being made before I realize I’m destroying my happiness that day? The answer is too many, it’s almost natural. I guess it kind of is a form of obsessing/pre-preparation that kinda naturally happens as you dream of what you want to eat the next day. Sadly I never actually smoke meat after that sort of self inflicted torture so it’s unrealized and therefore a recurring desire.
Sigh…