“If barbecuers don’t say they are the best,
they’re not
worth talking
to,” said Harold
Groetsema,
owner of Big
Daddy’s BBQ
and one
of the competitors.But these competitors don’t just throw some hot dogs and a couple of steaks on the grill. Many of them started their smokers a day before the judging.
Most teams were camped out at Pioneer Park the night before the judging, watching their smokers and making sure they treated their meat right. Groetsema, named the “Barbecue King of Alaska” by the state Legislature in 2006, already had his brisket in the smoker and was having a taste test to see what chicken recipe should be submitted.
There are four categories that made up the championship: chicken, ribs, pork butt and brisket. There was also a sauce and seafood category that didn’t factor into the championship score.
Steve Moody, the kitchen manager at Big Daddy’s;
Jeff Cook, a friend and expert taste tester;
and Ron Groetsema, Harold’s brother, gathered
around the cookers. They weighed in on a
raspberry-tinged sauce, popular with the
masses but unproven in competition, and Harold’s
original recipe, which started off sweet
but leaves a warm aftertaste and stays on
the tastebuds like a ghost. The Big Daddy’s
team wanted its chicken to haunt the judges,
so the original recipe won in the head-to-head.
The pride of Alaska
The stakes for getting it right are high. The championship allows teams from outside Alaska to compete, and the reigning champs are a Texas-based team, Blazen BBQ.
Groetsema feels it’s his duty to return the
title to an Alaska team, since the winners
earn a berth in the Jack Daniel’s World Invitational
Championship Barbecue in Lynchburg, Tenn.
“When we go down to the Jack, we want Alaskans to represent Alaska,” Groetsema said.
Blazen BBQ returned this year, but they weren’t the only outsiders looking to claim the Alaska title. Hot Coals, also from Texas, and Prairie Oak Smokers BBQ from Minnesota were throwing their meat into the farthest north barbecue contest.
Like the Groetsema clan, many of the other
teams were also composed of families. In
The Pig Whisperers tent, Hall and his partner,
Walt Hicks, handed off pig-watching duties
to their wives at 4 a.m. A few tents over,
Jeff and Shelly Decard tag-teamed the championship
under the moniker, “Team Turnin-N-Burnin.”
This year, the Decards were joined by some friends to form their team and spent late Saturday relaxing, trashing-talking and joking around with their tent neighbor, Big Daddy’s BBQ.
“We’ve patronized his restaurant once or twice,” Jeff Decard admits.
That evening, hints of barbecue mingled with laughter and good-natured ribbing, but there was no doubt the teams were engaged in serious business. “Tomorrow you will be able to cut the tension with an ax,” Decard said.
Everyone agreed the competition becomes more intense as the turn-in times approach.
“It’s a friendly competition until tomorrow,” said David Covington, a member of the Prairie Oak team.
It becomes quite clear very quickly that everyone has their own style. The Covingtons prefer to cook meat hot and fast, while Groetsema goes for the slow burn.
Most of the competitors tried to catch as much sleep as they can Saturday night, but it wasn’t easy with the rain, brisk temperatures and constant wake-up calls to check on or start their meats.
Heading down the stretch
It was the quiet before the storm in the
very early Sunday hours and with his meats
cooking at the righ
t temperature, Groetsema started a meticulous
task of tearing individual springs of parsley
for his presentation boxes.
Each meat category’s judging was broken down into 25 percent for presentation, 50 percent for taste and 25 percent for tenderness and texture.
Only regulation lettuce can be used to line the box — using red lettuce or another “illegal” variety can detract from the score. Also, pooling the sauce or any other gesture deemed as “marking” a team’s entries for the judges is a violation of the rules.
Groetsema’s own style meant covering his lettuce with a bed of parsley. “It’s going to look like astroturf when I’m done,” Groetsema said.
There is a hush over the competitor’s tents when it gets close to 10 a.m., the start of the sauce portion of the competition. Groetsema was looking for the warm aftertaste as Moody tinkered with the sauce to give it the right amount of punch. The sauces were as different as the teams at the contest.
One category was turned in every half hour,
with a 5-minute cushion. Two seconds after
the official clock and a team could find
itself eliminated from a quarter of the competition.
A misstep by the runner — the person who
delivers barbecue to the judges — can ruin
a night’s work and a year’s chances at victory.
Each submission should hold at least six uniform examples of a team’s work. On the upper deck of the Nenana, 18 judges were divided into three groups to prevent them from getting the meat sweats. Groetsema had a ritual before every entry. When it was time to put a box together, everyone participated in a final taste test to make sure the meat came out the way it was supposed to. Then the six most uniform pieces were chosen for judging.
“This is the best competition we ever cooked,”
he said. “I would be disappointed if we didn’t
win.”
When the smoke cleared . . .
Big Daddy’s took 1st in state for pork butt and Team Dysfunctional, also from Fairbanks, took the brisket portion of the competition.
Texas’ Blazen BBQ showed why they are ranked No. 4 in the nation, with a win in the chicken division combined with second place rankings in ribs, pork butt and brisket categories. The team’s effort earns it another Alaska State Barbecue Championship title.
