Smoky 'Rita

Seeing as I was spending the day tending a smoker full o’ brisket anyhow, it just seemed all resourceful and whatnot to populate the Char-Griller’s top rack with various foodstuffs. You know -- For Science. (And possibly also because I was APPALLED at the high cost of the smoked salt I’d just bought for the beer can chicken rub and wondered why the heck I oughtn’t just make my own, but mostly, I’d like it known, For Science.) The cherries took but two hours to absorb the rich, hickory goodness, but I let that foil pan of kosher salt steep for a good six or more. On the hour, I’d re-stoke the heat and heady smoke with a chimney starter full of coals and a generous handful of Corona-soaked chips, shake the pan, and then spend the next 55 minutes resisting the urge to lift the lid to assess progress. My patience was rewarded last night, when nearly two weeks later my husband sniffed the contents of the salt’s mason jar and noted, “That smells like our barbecue weekend.” I thought that called for a drink. Thus, I present to you, the Smoky ’Rita.