Now in the previous post, I mentioned that last week we went up to the Old Spanish Trail Association's annual conference, and that one of the presenters who really caught my imagination was a fellow named Charles Perry, President of the Culinary Historians of Southern California who gave a talk, "Cuisines along the Trail: Beef, Mutton & Game," but it really focused on the history of barbecue, in particular the old-fashioned pit roasting method. So here's some more about that.
No no one roasts a whole cow underground any more because it takes forever, it's expensive and labor-intensive, but that didn't even slow Charles down. He got one going at the ol' Palomares adobe (they have a pre-dug pit with a giant pipe sunk in the ground to make it slightly easier) and started the 24-hour process.
Now back in the day, the head was considered a pretty fine delicacy and not just somethin' to grind into sausage. Fact is that in my own personal life I don't really eat a lot of meat, but I considered this a worthy experiment. I ain't eating a puppy to find out if it really does taste like lamb, and I didn't eat cow face either. That sucker was frozen like an iceberg and Charles ended up not cooking it for fear that the rest of the meat wouldn't get done. So that's just somethin' that'll have to wait for another day. Or maybe not. I'll leave it to fate.
So there's a lot involved in doing this kinda cookout, and this was the old authentic style without any of those modern touches that might be a temptation nowadays. Charles marinated the meat in red wine vinegar, popped it into muslin bags and then put those in water-soaked burlap sacks. 
The meat went on a rack on top of the coals, a lid went on the pipe (to keep the whole process cleaner) and then dirt was shoveled on top of everything.
Cook for 18 hours or so then git the shovels, it's time to eat.
Final result? Interesting. The meat is fall-off-the-bone tender. There's no 
burned charcoal flavor that we're used to with barbecued steaks. In fact, the meat is so mild that it really doesn't have a lot of flavor, period, which might have been 
the point on the old ranchos - "this meat is so fresh you can barely taste it,"sort of thing. And of course, tastes change over time. Excellent when formatted as a taco or burrito with a nice salsa. Probably even better with a more flavorful sort of meat like goat or venison.
I think that a more aggressive marinade might be in order, but then we're talkin' about one of those modern modifications that didn't really fit with the muy authentico theme of the event. Indeed, I hope that we don't have to do a trapper meal of pemmican and a rock-hard biscuit at the next OSTA conference 
just to get the point that sourdough was a great invention.
So I'm not diggin' a pit in the back yard, which will probably save a lot of strife with my landlord, but I am thinkin' that Spanish Colonial-style barbecue could probably be simulated in a slow cooker. It doesn't have the thrill and the romance of course, but then again, how often am I cooking for 100 of my closest 
friends and household staff? So a big shout out to Charles Perry and the Culinary Historians of Southern California for an unforgettable (and darn near un-replicable) dinner. I'll be following up with more of their events in the future.
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