It's early Spring, 2015. I take a deep breath of stale airplane air and glance past my 20 month old son towards the sweeping grasslands below, a vast expanse of brownish green waves giving remarkable clarity to the chaotic patterns of the West Texas wind. This must be the birthplace of tumbleweeds. The floor of the Permian Basin, increasingly sparse and arid, pulls towards us and slowly comes into focus as my son neatly arranges a line of goldfish on the tray in front of him. I can't help but think to myself that when it comes to food preparation, work is play for both of us.
Football Food: Smoked Brisket, Texas Style
