Dub Shack BBQ Does a Chicken Pickin'

On a continuation of a chicken theme this year, every day is a GREAT day for barbecue. Let's check out how the chicken got picked clean off its bones for sandwiches, salads, pizzas, tacos, or whatever your hearts may desire.

INGREDIENTS 

One whole chicken, about 5-7 lbs.

Table salt

Black pepper

Garlic powder 

Poultry seasoning of your choice

Step One. After purchasing the bird and bringing it home, find a safe place to prepare it and do all of the necessary things we do with chicken. Salmonella is a very real thing, and that is the last thing we want to offer up;  while we're at it, put your gloves on and maintain a clean hand when handling poultry. 

Step Two. You don't have to do this, but I trimmed the extra skin as well as cut out the backbone, neck, and giblet for today's cook. Once this task is completed, add the seasonings to both sides of the chicken:  I chose to keep it simple with the aforementioned spices - of course, feel free to make it your own. I might try lemon pepper or my favorite Cajun-style rubs next time around - the reason I went generic this time is to showcase the versatility of pulled chicken.

Step Three. If you haven't already started your grill, get it set up for indirect heat with temperatures reaching 275-325 degrees. On my PK, it simply requires a hand waving test:  If I can leave my hand over hot coals for more than a few seconds, then it is too cool. You'd also want the chicken skin to crisp up throughout the cook for an added element to sandwiches (trust me), but bottom line is the breasts will be ready around 165 and thighs, 175. 

It'll be a little while, so grab a couple of beers or snag a batch of my Dat White sauce. I won't divulge the secrets used in making it, but if mayonnaise-based barbecue sauce isn't your thing, then you can choose one to your liking. Lately it's been Dang! Oh, Mango and The Ancestors, but hey, eat your way.

I'm retiring this sauce soon but if you ask me nicely enough and give me $10, I'll make you a batch.

More of the shameless plug - I'm the 🔌in this thing 

Step Four. In the miracle of time, the bird is smoked and coming off the grill. Give it about fifteen to twenty minutes to rest before commencing with the chicken pickin'! For sandwiches, I'll use the crispy skin along with the mixed - and obviously - pulled parts of the chicken, and if you're doing this for salads, tacos, pizzas, or anything else, do whatever you deem necessary for good eating!

As always, thank you for reading the Dub Shack BBQ method of pulled chicken. Get out there and smoke something as every day is a GREAT day for barbecue! Be safe, be blessed, and be good to each other! 

I'm Sorry, Black Women

I’m sorry, Sisters:  We’ve failed you once again.

It can be said that the American justice system is working the way it is intended (Just Us, Not You) and it has been the case for the entire 401 years we have been here, and as the husband to the greatest woman on this side of eternity as well as the father to the best five-year-old girl around, it fucking sucks. How is it that for so long, Black women end up toting the water from one end of the valley to the top of the hill without spilling a single drop and yet simultaneously be perpetually underappreciated and disrespected yet show openly all of the grace they were endowed with is beyond my feeble understanding.

If I were you, I’d be ready to throw hands or something. This is too much.

But this goes beyond Breonna or Sandra or anyone else whose names we have had to mention as in death, they have taken on larger roles in our version of Reconstruction 2.0 or the Civil Rights Movement Part II or how Black Lives Matter – the movement – will be remembered. I say the movement because there are too many basic-ass, racist-ass white people who slander our clarion call the exact same way their parents and grandparents did Brother Martin during the 1960s only to find that they haven’t changed a bit over the past fifty years or so. Sure, we live in the same subdivisions, work alongside each other, shop in the same grocery stores, and even cheer on the same teams (I won’t call the Hogs, but you already know that – my Reddies will be back in the spring), but the failure to acknowledge basic humanity spells a hypocrisy that they and sadly, some Black men may willingly never come to grips with.

Good use of your platform @theestallion on @nbcsnl #ProtectBlackWomen #savage pic.twitter.com/RzX9yQ6dka

— mizzkbofficial (@mizzkb100) October 4, 2020

Is it our proximity to that deadly drug called whiteness too strong to resist as you have been consistently failed repeatedly?

Is it the fact that white America has deemed you angry when you show righteous furor, and some of us brothers have been too meek, misogynistic, or pussy to defend your honor?

Is it the literal interpretation of the King James Bible followed by many of our churches that limit the roles of women to being seen and not heard?

Do we manage to prove that Brother Malcolm may have been right when he told us that the most disrespected person in America is the Black woman based solely on how we treat you?

I mean, damn, Black women have literally been the backbone to this country that clearly does not love you back in return – and the shit is really cradle to grave. At best, it is fucked up, and at its worst, Monday. Over the course of these 401 years, you have done more than your fair share of the grind from having to nurse and care for white babies over your own during both slavery and Jim Crow as the powers-that-be in this unequal society have opened a chasm between themselves and everyone else; introduced the world to seasoned food;  marched in lockstep in the women’s suffrage movement until the white women in charge told them to kick rocks like one certain major political party prior to 2020 has done for years; received patents (see Phillis Wheatley and Dr. Shirley Jackson, among others) to improve all of our lives; to the numerous ways of expressing a creativity that finds itself within the lexicon of American culture; unlocked a perspective of American history some historians and politicians would prefer ignored – or worse, forgotten; and fought for the rights of fellow women of all stripes to make their own medical choices regarding their bodies as death threats rained upon them. I am also facing my inadequacy as a Black man for not always being able to fully understand the struggle – as I wrote in Hi! I’m Token, I reflected upon my own past failures for sitting down when it was time to stand up, using inappropriate language, and otherwise being a twit as I unwittingly defended the status quo to maintain the aforementioned proximity to the fog that asphyxiates freedom, obscures vision, and even extinguishes taste. In that context, it refers to being that “pet”, “favorite happy Negro”, or whatever the hell slight they made to prop me up as someone to emulate.

Where would we be without you?

I am tired of failing you, beautiful Black women.

You deserve a LOT better than this damning fate of being a second-class or tertiary citizen in this land, and honestly, I am standing with you to build our own Wakanda apart from the mess we live with hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, and annually as we try to leave this rock a better place for our chocolate children to grow up safely and mature into the next generation of heroes, the ones our ancestors can truly be proud of. Know that you are not alone in the struggle, and as I apologize this time for not speaking up sooner, this Black man has your back.

I ❤🖤💚 all y'all. #BlackWomenMatter

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) October 5, 2020

Forgive us, Sisters.

Snack Time: Two-Bite Pizza Poppers

This recipe is written for the oven, but you know me well enough that I'll try it on the grill. Check this out:  

2-BITE PIZZA PEPPER POPPERS 🍕 🌶 

5 mini peppers, sliced in half 

1/2 cup marinara

1/2 cup mozzarella, shredded

Mini pepperoni 

Drizzle peppers with olive oil.  Stuff with sauce, cheese and pepperoni! 

Pop these babies in a 350 degree oven for 12 to 15 minutes! Enjoy!

It's OK to Cry

For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life: weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
Psalms 30:5 KJVhttps://t.co/fjn6HLA5ad

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) September 8, 2020

Throughout 2020, we have lost a lot of our heroes, relatives, contemporaries, and people who have impacted our lives more than we ever imagined.

Kobe Bryant.

Congressman John Lewis.

Congressman Elijah Cummings.

Chadwick Boseman.

George Floyd.

Breonna Taylor.

Georgetown Hoyas men’s basketball Coach John Thompson.

Countless legends of our ‘hoods and families, including my own cousin Kavon.

Yet we are told to stay strong through all of the circumstances not only within our own communities but also in the face of sheer hatred. But when the strength runs low and we find ourselves alone, we can finally exhale…and we wail. I didn’t say cry, nor did I use the word sob: I SAID WAIL.

Wailing is OK; sometimes the pain is too great to have to carry alone, and there may be underlying conditions for the visceral reactions when we do finally cry. For a season, we have to allow ourselves the time to grieve – and contrary to how visitors see things – in our own way. No one can legislate how you should feel, nor shall they feel that those sorrowful feelings require a specific expediency to his or her own selfish desires.

Finding about Red via social media Thursday #rilcuzzo #ItsOKToCry pic.twitter.com/rGmBsQ2KMN

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) September 7, 2020

Feel free to be dejected.

Accept the dark days in the valleys of life. We are not always meant to be strong, and shedding a tear is part of being human as we are not robotic. Besides, letting it out does wonders to our collective blood pressure as it relieves a valve that we suppress to prevent any sign of weakness.

It is OK to cry.

Dear White Evangelicals:

“Dear White Evangelicals,

I need to tell you something: People have had it with you.

They’re done.

They want nothing to do with you any longer, and here’s why:

They see your hypocrisy, your inconsistency, your incredibly selective mercy, and your thinly veiled supremacy.

For eight years they watched you relentlessly demonize a black President; a man faithfully married for 26 years; a doting father and husband without a hint of moral scandal or the slightest whiff of infidelity.

They watched you deny his personal faith convictions, argue his birthplace, and assail his character—all without cause or evidence. They saw you brandish Scriptures to malign him and use the laziest of racial stereotypes in criticizing him.

And through it all, White Evangelicals—you never once suggested that God placed him where he was,

you never publicly offered prayers for him and his family,

you never welcomed him to your Christian Universities,

you never gave him the benefit of the doubt in any instance,

you never spoke of offering him forgiveness or mercy,

your evangelists never publicly thanked God for his leadership,

your pastors never took to the pulpit to offer solidarity with him,

you never made any effort to affirm his humanity or show the love of Jesus to him in any quantifiable measure.

You violently opposed him at every single turn—without offering a single ounce of the grace you claim as the heart of your faith tradition. You jettisoned Jesus as you dispensed damnation on him.

And yet you give carte blanche to a white Republican man so riddled with depravity, so littered with extramarital affairs, so unapologetically vile, with such a vast resume of moral filth—that the mind boggles.

And the change in you is unmistakable. It has been an astonishing conversion to behold: a being born again.

With him, you suddenly find religion.

With him, you’re now willing to offer full absolution.

With him, all is forgiven without repentance or admission.

With him you’re suddenly able to see some invisible, deeply buried heart.

With him, sin has become unimportant, compassion no longer a requirement.

With him, you see only Providence.

And White Evangelicals, all those people who have had it with you—they see it all clearly.

They recognize the toxic source of your inconsistency.

They see that pigmentation and party are your sole deities.

They see that you aren’t interested in perpetuating the love of God or emulating the heart of Jesus.

They see that you aren’t burdened to love the least, or to be agents of compassion, or to care for your Muslim, gay, African, female, or poor neighbors as yourself.

They see that all you’re really interested in doing, is making a God in your own ivory image and demanding that the world bow down to it.

They recognize this all about white, Republican Jesus—not dark-skinned Jesus of Nazareth.

And I know you don’t realize it, but you’re digging your own grave in these days; the grave of your very faith tradition.

Your willingness to align yourself with cruelty is a costly marriage. Yes, you’ve gained a Supreme Court seat, a few months with the Presidency as a mouthpiece, and the cheap high of temporary power—but you’ve lost a whole lot more.

You’ve lost an audience with millions of wise, decent, good-hearted, faithful people with eyes to see this ugliness.

You’ve lost any moral high ground or spiritual authority with a generation.

You’ve lost any semblance of Christlikeness.

You’ve lost the plot.

And most of all you’ve lost your soul.

I know it’s likely you’ll dismiss these words. The fact that you’ve even made your bed with such malevolence, shows how far gone you are and how insulated you are from the reality in front of you.

But I had to at least try to reach you. It’s what Jesus would do.”

John Pavlovitz

PS:  If you wonder why people are leaving the church in droves, perhaps one would be wise to look in the mirror and reflect upon your own actions versus what was said or taught Sunday mornings at 11 am. 

Our Love Story

My wife doesn't know this, but she just did a ghostwriting bid for AD&AD. Fortunately, I don't have to pay her for the post. In the words of Mrs. Chastity Armstrong:  

Let me tell y'all about this guy whom I met at Henderson State University Fall of '97.  We quickly became friends and interested at the same time.  I remember when going to Garrison Hall it was almost a guarantee I would see him as well.  

Well one day I told my friend Monica Creggett Brown "watch I'll end up marrying him."

Through separate relationships for both of us, we maintained contact.  So one day we found ourselves asking the question did we want to try.  I questioned then if it would mess up our friendship that we had built.  

Fast forward to Jan.1, 2008..(long story)..and December 25, 2010..(long story)....well August 6, 2011 we decided to share our love and pronounce to all we were are a united team. 

Thanks A. Cedric Armstrong for all the love you have shown me since that day we met.  I love you and I'm so glad we decided to give it the ol' Reddie try LOL.

I pray we have many many more anniversaries to celebrate together.  Happy 9th Anniversary babe 

P.S.  I love you this <------------------------------------------->much!

End of Free Play

By the time this gets posted, Little Miss Sunshine will have had gotten through her first day of kindergarten – and hopefully, I have my bearings intact.

A little over five-and-a-half years ago, Caeli Elise was born nearly four months premature. You’ve all read the chapters over the time span, and a lot of other stuff namely me finding my political voice (Garveyism within the concept of being pro-Black in very conservative Arkansas – study Brother Marcus Garvey to understand the views and why I found that speaks to me more than any Democratic, Republican, Green, or Libertarian Party ever will), sharing the ups and downs of serving a small traditional Black Baptist church in a leadership capacity, and igniting a passion that my family and Saline County as a whole have enjoyed since 2017 in Dub Shack BBQ; nonetheless, many eyes have peered themselves toward this direction as a result of the Dad Chronicles – life as a preemie pop to today, just a middle-class dad trying to love, care, protect, and provide for his wife and only child.

As the 2020-21 school year begins, remember this not only for my daughter but for all little Black girls #ProtectBlackWomen #BlackGirlsMatter #BlackGirlsRock pic.twitter.com/hiCS5ey7xE

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) August 23, 2020

But all things do come to an end, and in the age of coronavirus, Caeli is starting kindergarten at big school. This Tiger (no, she won’t be a Leopard or a Wampus Cat – we live the Hornet life down here) is looking forward to it, and I have to say I agree mostly because the past five months have turned our worlds and routines upside down. For a child who was robbed of finishing pre-K by this novel ailment, she has been remarkably resilient except for playtime with her neighbors when we have to remind her why she cannot go into their houses to play. However, she needs to return to a regular routine of waking up early and laying down at a very defined bedtime:  What this means is the village must step up - when one falls short, another picks up the pieces for the ship to keep sailing smoothly.

Like I said months ago, AMI was a nonstarter for Caeli. We will have to get a feel of Google Classroom if not set up my computer for Zoom on a semi-permanent basis.

Do we have all of this together? Hell no! Not even close, and for some parts of it, I wish we would not have had to endure.

My daughter officially begins kindergarten in two days and I'm still fucking terrified.

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) August 25, 2020

As the above tweet references, I am terrified of what Collegeville Elementary brings us in an abnormal school year. For the Wampus Cats who remember her, this is the school Katie (Villines) Thomas was the principal before she passed away from a heart attack a few years ago; I am still confident in the teaching and support staff educating Caeli as well as assuaging my own concerns and worries as they still exist. It’s not like I can be a helicopter parent given all of the security measures for everyone’s protection from COVID19 – heck, I can’t even bring McDonald’s in one day to eat lunch with her! More, this could very well be culture shock for her in a way that our own neighborhood looks like the United Nations in comparison:  I won’t deny the fact that she will walk into a classroom and for the first time, not only do most of the other students not look like her but possibly neither will the teacher. Coming from the majority-Black preschools in Little Rock she had attended – and excelled – this will be a new ballgame. I’m sure she’ll do fine yet as her father, I had better be on my A-game!

Touch my daughter's hair and see what happens. pic.twitter.com/VKCxJz7y6v

— A. Cedric Armstrong (@cedteaches) August 23, 2020

WE DON’T PLAY THAT.

More significantly, the end of free play means that the days of unstructured games are ending. I did not say innocence, but free play before structured routine takes over her days. In large part to COVID19, we are having to break bad habits such as sleeping in and obsessively watching YouTube, playing Minecraft, Roblox, and Fortnite (all of which have been banned) only to replace them with good habits and further exploring her interests in astronomy and technology. She’ll get to live a normal (for 2020) childhood but there will be days when I miss my baby bear being so small and all of the fun things that her mom has an idea of that I won’t mention in this space such as airplane *all aboard Air Caeli* around the house.

I am not ready for this - the tears will be proof in the pudding.

Thanks to all of you for your fervent prayers, relationships, newly discovered friendships within Springhill Manor as we try to help keep Bryant’s best-kept secret safe enough for our kids to play freely, reading the words that have come from this space over the past several years, and for anything that has escaped my mind over the time. As we begin the process of formal elementary education, we must recognize that not every day will be a ride in the back of the Cadillac; bumps, bruises, and potholes will have a part in the program that we must prepare ourselves for.