courageUnderFire_article01.jpgBehind Cooper’s Old Time Pit Bar-B-Que stand a pair of charred, metal silos. Several times a day, a worker deposits a four-foot-high stack of mesquite logs into one of the drums, then blasts it with a gas torch, sending flames 10 feet into the air. This is where the sacred art of barbecue begins.

I’ve come to Cooper’s to learn the secrets behind one of the great mysteries of American cuisine, in a world where the tricks of the trade are closely guarded. In the hands of an expert pit master, tough, chewy brisket becomes succulent and flavorful; dry, mild pork, moist and savory. My question is: How? To find out I’ve persuaded the proprietors at Cooper’s to make me their first-ever barbecue apprentice.

It took a little cajoling. Though Cooper’s is basically a hut in the middle of nowhere—about 75 miles northwest of Austin in the tiny city of Llano, Texas (population: 3,325; stoplights: four)—it is a legendary meat mecca, routinely hailed as one of the country’s best barbecue joints. Founded in 1953, it’s become a destination stop across the South; the restaurant keeps a van at the local airstrip to shuttle in 50 private planeloads of meat-seekers each week. It’s even President Bush’s favorite joint.

Naturally, the men of Cooper’s aren’t too eager to expose their time-honored methodology to imitators and impostors. But once I convinced them I wasn’t a spy sent by a competitor, they agreed to grant me a four-day crash course in manning their hallowed pits. Standing before the silos, the blast of heat instantly baking my flesh, I began to wonder if learning about barbecue would be worth losing my face.

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