"Some beers. A few laughs."

The third and final goat hit the fire a few days after Christmas. For the most part, the cooking process followed that of the previous roast word for word. Dad did, however, put on his Iron Chef hat and personalize the dry rub, substituting rosemary, salt/pepper, and an Italian seasoning for the mixture of processed powders and spices from the first goat roast. He also had the forethought to let the spices do their thing overnight. Veteran move, Timbo.

Our homemade pit was by no means as official as the bomb proof pig roaster back in Athens, but it got the job done just as well. The heat stayed high enough to make keeping your hand just under the meat nearly unbearable. Each piece of meat browned nicely on each side for a little under an hour before being sealed up in aluminum foil with onions, celery, lemons, bell peppers, carrots, potatoes, garlic, and what was left of a vinegar baste.

After another 2 or so hours on the fire, we were left with the same result: a pile of tender, hand-pulled meat and juicy, savory vegetables. Some friends and family pitched in with scalloped potatoes, chili, and appetizers. All in all, we had a pretty impressive spread capable of feeding 20-25. Luckily, there were only about 15 mouths to feed, so I got to mix and match leftovers for the next few days.

That was the last of my goat meat, so any more gourmet goat posts will have to wait until I can convince a few friends to compete in this summer's Brady, TX Goat Cook Off. That's right, the big show, the Rose Bowl of BBQ, where every aspiring goat roaster dreams of one day competing against the same living legends that guided our inaugural goat roast back in December. Realistically, it'd probably unwind a lot like Rocky V - an up and coming competitor gives the grizzled veteran a run for his money but is ultimately taught a painful lesson. But, what if...

Getcha Some Goat, Mike

What's Micheal Essien's secret to outside-the-18 bombs and sick volleys? Probably a good work ethic, lots of practice, and a little luck. But I'd like to think that someway somehow, his wanting a goat for Christmas is relevant to the matter.

And, if he's lucky, he might be able to snag one of the 21,000 goats the Ghanaian government is handing out to "increase meat production reducing importation, increase the income of farmers, and provide employment."

"Welp. That about does her. Wraps her all up."

Monday was the big day. One of those start early and finish late kind of days. But it couldn't have gone much better. Here's a brief recap:

The Secret Ingredients

As usual, I got too excited during the preparation process and forgot to keep taking pictures. Above is just about everything used during the roast. Salt, pepper, and dry rub (orange tint tupperware) went on first. I'll admit, the mustard rub that was supposed to follow next never actually happened. (No big deal, though. It was added later.) The cider vinegar baste was generously drizzled over the meat for the first 2 hours before dumping the remaining liquid into a aluminum foil mummy bag with celery, onions, garlic, bell peppers, brown sugar, and lemon juice.

Slow Roastin'

From about 12 until 4, this was the scene in the backyard: a couple of friends and I standing around, watching these two guys cook with our mouths watering. Other than the initial difficulty of getting a bunch of wet wood to start, the fire burned nice and hot all day long. All that was required of us was to flip after a little over an hour.

Who Dat Goat?

After those first 2 hours of cooking had come and gone, it was time to wrap the bad boys up. I had a little miscalculation when purchasing aluminum foil: only had enough to wrap one goat, so we threw the other on top while Willy made a heroic Kroger run. The timing worked out well. By the time the first goat was ready to eat, the second was on its last 45 minutes of cooking.

Come Getcha Some Goat

The unwrapping of the first goat was a little nerve racking. No one had seen the meat since we covered it in aluminum foil 2.5 hours earlier, so we were clueless as to how everything would turn out. Luckily, we peeled back the foil and a cloud of delicious steam burst out. The meat was already falling off of the rib cage and everything was tender enough to pull apart with fingers alone. We waited a few minutes to let things cool off, then several pairs of hands pulled the meat and divvied it up into 2 large pans, one on each side of the table.

Whatever hamburger buns Willy picked up at the grocery store were gone within minutes, and the rest was piled up onto some paper plates. I could be wrong, but I don't think we dirtied any silverware the entire night. Guys and gals alike showed their inner carnivores, diving in hands first and reducing the goat to nothing but bones. Even the vegetables disappeared. (Some might argue they were the best part.)

As soon as Goat #1 was entirely consumed, Goat #2 was hoisted off the flames and moved to the table as well. Again, it was gone in no time at all. In fact, I heard several times that the second goat was better than the first. Must have been the extra brown sugar Sous Chefs Mark and Gibbs tossed in at the last minute.

Here's a link to a few more pictures of Monday's goings on. Thanks to everyone that showed up and tried a bite. Seeing that many people gathered around a big hunk of slow-roasted meat and having a grand ol' time was the goal from the get-go. What little time I had to stand on my tip toes and survey the crowd enjoying the goat meat was very rewarding. Made all that early morning goat wrangling and poison ivy worth it...

"Donny was a good bowler..."

I woke up Saturday morning to a voicemail from Miss Charlie with the name and number of her neighbor, the expert goat killer that would show me the ropes. Rodney picked up the phone and told me to get on out there to get started. Within a half hour, I had a big cooler from the Dougie House loaded up and I headed out.

Got to the farm at the same time Rodney pulled up in his truck. Big white pickup with an ATV in the bed. He backed it right up to on an open space by the barn. After introductions, he showed me his homemade ATV hitch accessory: a 2-piece pulley system to hoist antelopes up off the ground in Wyoming, where there aren't any trees. Yeah, antelope. Wyoming. But he's hunted, killed, and butchered anything that moves short of humans - farm and game animals alike. Bear, moose, elk, deer, pigs, cows, goats, turkey. You name it, he's killed and eaten it. So if I was ever going to learn from somebody, it would be this guy, the tip top of the food chain.

And learn something, I did. Rodney was very patient and instructive, not to mention a big fan of experiential learning. I drove off the property having done a lot more than I had anticipated upon first arriving. Definitely an afternoon I won't soon forget. But what an experience. And a valuable skill to be familiar with.

I've thought a lot about which details to share publicly and which to withhold. There are parts of the story that probably wouldn't be appropriate in most circles, so I'll let you ask me about them in person.

I will say, however, that the goats died a very quick, clean death. Instantaneous. Rodney's preferred method is shooting the goats with a .22 rifle (in the head), then hanging and skinning much like you would a deer. If you're interested - and it sounds like several people are - here are a couple of pictures from the afternoon. Be aware there are, in fact, dead goats in the pictures. Any particularly bloody or disturbing pictures were not included, so don't be too hesitant to click. Looks just like your grocery store meat would. The captions are somewhat instructional, you know, just in case 2012 rolls around and you've gotta feed some mouths.

In the end, all three carcasses fit inside one jumbo cooler, where they've been since. Rodney recommended keeping the meat on ice and water for a few days, changing it every so often to flush the blood out of the meat. Consider it an expedited, home scale equivalent of the 2-week hanging, or "aging," of your everyday cut of beef. Now, after 4 or 5 days, nearly all the blood has been drawn out, and we've got some seriously tasty looking meat on our hands....

UGA Goat Facts

Here's a fact sheet on meat goats in the state of Georgia. From the UGA College of Agricultural & Environmental Sciences.

"In a recent survey, Texas retailers said they could sell 4.8 million goat carcasses a year if they could be supplied."

That's a lotta cabrito. If this landscape architecture thing doesn't work out, looks like Plan B is invest in a sturdy staff, get myeself a good dog, buy a couple of goats, and start my career as a Lone Star State goat herder.