Family get-together (all 5 grandkids included) Sunday in Fox Point. Sort of a pre-T'Gving party, but with no turkey allowed. And that puts me in the enviable position of getting to provide some alternative viande, and that gives me the opportunity to see if I can meet the high BBQ brisket bar Bri has established. (I am following his direction, but brisket prep is a delicate, day-long operation with much room for error.) So, the flat has been rubbed with a fabulous rub and is now chilling in the fridge. The Big Green Egg has been appropriately rigged, and loaded with hardwood charcoal. Pecan chips are soaking in the sink.

The only complicaton—snow. Winter storm warning in effect, with 6 to 10 predicted. It took repeated attempts, separated by many hours, to get the cranky snow-blower to start, but eventually, in a vast cloud of blue smoke, it sprang to life. Then, a few minutes later, when visibility was finally returning, neighbor Bill came over to tell me that when he tried starting up his machine yesterday the only result was a puddle of gasoline on the garage floor. Bill is an early riser, and a dedicated snow blower, so our trusty old machine is now in his garage; and I know that when I hear it roar by tomorow morning it wil be time go get up.

And here we have the brisket meister (on the left) issuing instructions, while the rooftop farmer (on the right) is sampling local foodstuff.