Have Smoker, Will Travel

In Brooklyn, a good wood-fired smoker is only slightly less elusive than the ghost train of Alachua County legend, that haunts moonless summer nights with its lonesome whistle's cry. On occasion I find myself pointing a nostril to the sky, hoping for a faint trace of hickory or mesquite on the afternoon breeze. Unfortunately, the only smoke I smell is either from a nearby garbage fire, or from the Virginia Slim chain-smoking Polish octogenarian living next-door. Since erecting a brick pit on the fire escape seems ironic at best, and criminally negligent at worst, I have been forced to come up with this compromise. Espresso rubbed spare ribs; seared in a cast iron skillet, finished in the oven, and topped with a blueberry barbecue sauce. On the side is a chipotle and smoked gouda corn muffin, and lemon-garlic asparagus. Thanks to Sarah for the inspiration for the sauce and Alice for the photo.