31/05/2025
Final day to enjoy some 4-T's BBQ. Thank you to Mike and Cyndi for the many years of great food.
Dear Friends, Family, and Fellow Lovers of the Flame,
As the smoke curls gently into the morning sky and the last brisket finishes on the pit, I find myself standing at the edge of an era. Today is my final day as pitmaster. After 30 plus years of tending fire, rubbing ribs, trimming briskets, and waking up before the roosters, it’s time for me to hang up my apron, shut the doors, and let the coals cool.
They say barbecue is more than food—it’s a language, a legacy, a way of life. I’ve spent my life learning that language: spoken in hickory and whispered through low heat and slow hours. I’ve served BBQ to bikers, bankers, babies gnawing on bones, and grandparents who swore it tasted just like the old days. I’ve watched families grow, friendships spark, and strangers become kin over a shared table stained with sauce.
My hands bear the marks of the pit—burns and calluses, smoke-stained fingerprints—and I wouldn’t trade a single one. Every scar tells a story: of briskets that nearly broke me, of ribs that sang when they hit the flame just right, of nights spent under stars waiting for the meat to talk back and say, “I’m ready.”
Today, I lit the fire one last time. I opened the doors before sunrise, just like always. I seasoned the meat by instinct, no recipe needed. And as the final racks came off the pit, I realized—this ain’t goodbye. Not really.
Because every time you fire up your own smoker, every time the smell of smoke hangs sweet in the air, I’ll be right there with you—in spirit, in seasoning, and in the shared love of good barbecue done right.
To those who came through the doors—thank you. You trusted me with your cravings, your celebrations, and sometimes your sorrows. I hope I made you smile, even if it was just through a mouthful of chopped brisket.
To the next generation of pitmasters: be patient, be proud, and never underestimate the power of salt & pepper, smoke, and time. Respect the craft. And remember, barbecue isn’t about perfection—it’s about passion.
The coals are fading, but the fire in me will never go out.” (Photo credit Robert Jacob Lerma)
