Chef Lamar J. Moore has cooked for presidents. Literally. He catered for Barack and Michelle Obama. He was sous chef for the Bears. He survived Chopped. You might not know his name, but the Southern roots are thick in his veins.
Grilling isn’t rocket science. Or is it?
Moore thinks most people are doing it wrong. They treat the grill like an oven with a door off. Just toss meat on, set the dial, and wait. Amateur hour.
Knowing your temperature zones.
That is the key. It’s the difference between charred charcoal and a tender piece of beef.
The Hot Box vs. The Cool Corner
Don’t treat all sides of your grill equally. Check where the fire starts. On a Masterbuilt grill, for instance, the heat lives on the right. The fire roars there. That’s your “hot box.”
Start the meat on the right. Sear it. Then move it to the left.
Why? Moisture. If you blast protein at maximum heat for twenty minutes, the water flies out. Instant jerky. Start hot. Sealing the juices, capturing the smoke flavor. Then migrate left. Slow cook. Let the heat creep in gentle waves.
Moore demonstrates this with beer can chicken. He flips the bird upside down. Think about that. The fat from the legs drips directly into the breast meat. Self-basting. As the juices run, they keep the white meat moist. He checks the drips constantly.
It’s the same for short ribs. Start high—300 degrees—to wrap that smoky flavor in. Then drop it to 200-220. Slow and low allows the fat to redistribute. The meat becomes tender.
Fat Means Fire
Be careful with fat. Short ribs are fatty. Good. Delicious. Dangerous.
As that fat drips onto the grate, it creates smoke. But it also creates flame-ups. Grease fires happen when you ignore the drop zone. Turn the temp down. Move the meat. Let the fat burn off safely. You still get the flavor, minus the burnt ash.
And don’t guess the doneness.
Use a thermometer. Stick it in the center. The last part of the meat to cook is the core. If it’s chicken, aim for the breast, near the bone. Breast has little fat. It dries out first. The thigh can take a beating. The breast cannot.
Gear and Gimmicks
You don’t need fancy tools. You do need the right ones. Long spatula. Long tongs. Keep your fingers away from the flame. A grill brush to scrub the carbon.
Oil the grates. Always. Stickiness ruins dinner.
Watch the smoke color. This matters more than you think. Clear smoke means flavor. Good flavor. It tells you the food is waking up. Gray or black smoke? Trouble. Something is burning. The grill might be on fire. You aren’t cooking; you’re torching.
What about leftovers? Moore saves them. Put sauce on the meat the night before. Wrap it in paper. The sauce creates a seal. When you reheat, the sauce boils slightly. It glazes the meat again. Keeps it from drying into dust.
He has a recipe for that sauce, too. Alabama White is a classic. But his peach BBQ sauce is a revelation.
Roast whole peaches. Skin on. You want the char. Peel them later. Toss them in a pot with red onion. Garlic. Chipotle for heat. Sauté until onions clear. Deglaze with apple cider vinegar. Add molasses for that Southern stickiness. Stewed tomatoes.
The peach skins are pure pectin. They thicken the sauce naturally. No cornstarch needed. Simmer for an hour. Blend it smooth in a Vitamix. Strain out any stubborn bits. Add peach juice. Brown sugar. Let it cool.
His spice rub is almost a snack. Fresh herbs. Thyme. Oregano. Basil. Rosemary. He deep-fries them until crisp. Removes them from stems. Chops them slightly. Mix with Maldon sea salt. Smoked black pepper. Roasted dried garlic. Roasted lavender.
He puts this on steak. On seafood. Even garlic bread.
Why not?
The grill is open. The fire is hot. Just don’t let the smoke turn black.
