Why I Fell in Love with BBQ

Everyone falls in love with BBQ for their own reasons. Some chase the flavor. Some chase the fire. For me, it was the process of building the fire, managing the smoke, and watching something raw slowly transform into something beautiful.

The first time I fired up an offset smoker, I made every mistake you can think of. I overcooked the meat, lost control of the temperature, and stayed up all night tending the out-of-control fire. But I was hooked. There was something deeply satisfying about it. It wasn’t just about cooking, it was about patience, care, and effort. You can’t rush a good cook. You can’t fake your way through it. You must be present. You must respect the time it takes to do it right. And when it all comes together—when that brisket slices like butter and the bark snaps just right, it feels like you’ve earned something real.

As I kept cooking, I started to realize BBQ is about more than just fire and food. It’s about people. The BBQ community is one of the most genuine, welcoming groups I’ve ever been a part of. Whether it’s a backyard gathering, a cook-off, or just talking shop online, there’s a sense of shared understanding. We’ve all stayed up too late watching a smoker. We’ve all had cooks go sideways. And we’ve all had that one perfect day where everything clicked.

There’s a respect among people who commit themselves to this craft. We share tips, failures, recipes, and stories. We pass down what we’ve learned without holding back. That kind of comradery is rare, and it’s something I’m proud to be a part of.

But the real reason I fell in love with BBQ, the reason I keep coming back to the fire, is what happens after the cook.

It’s the quiet moment when the food hits the table and everyone goes still for a second because the smell alone demands attention.

It’s the sound of laughter, the clink of glasses, the conversations that stretch late into the evening.

There’s a unique kind of joy that comes from cooking for people you care about. When your friends come back for seconds. When your uncle says it’s the best damn rib he’s ever had. When your kids lick their fingers and ask if there’s more.

Those are the moments that stay with you. It’s not about the brisket, it’s about who’s around the table when you serve it.

Now, as I prepare to become a father for the first time, BBQ means even more to me.

I think about the day I’ll stand next to my son at the smoker, teaching him how to tend the fire, when to spritz, how to feel the heat without a thermometer. I think about the lessons he’ll learn, not just about BBQ, but about patience, effort, and pride in doing something right.

I want to pass this down to him the same way others passed it down to me. I want him to know that BBQ is about love.

Love for the process. Love for the people. Love for the time we spend together.

Because at the end of the day, the smoke, the fire, the food, it’s all just a way to say, “You matter to me. I did this for you.”

That’s why I fell in love with BBQ. Not because it’s easy. Not because it’s trendy. But because it’s real. It brings people together. It challenges you. And it reminds you to slow down and savor what really matters.

It’s not just a meal. It’s a memory. It’s a connection. And for me, it’s a tradition I hope to carry on for the rest of my life.