The Rib Masters : Where There’s Smokey, There’s Fire

Drive down Florence Avenue and about a block east of Western you’ll see what looks like a herd of brightly colored industrial piglets congregating on the sidewalk. They’re barbecues welded out of oil drums, bright red or yellow or green, with little pipes sticking out of them for smokestacks.

Drive down Florence a couple of months later, and the display will likely look different. You might see anything from tiny barbecues such as hibachis mounted on long legs to professional-grade monsters welded together from several 55-gallon drums. The sign on the shop reads “Light Welding,” but everybody knows this is Smokey’s Bar-B-Que Pits.

You see Smokey’s products in many a backyard in Los Angeles, and in, or even out in front of, some restaurants. Smokey--Leonard Gray--has been making barbecues for 30 years, and they can be found far and wide. A barbecue place in the Sierra Nevada town of Placerville uses a huge double-barrel model, and a man in New York is buying two Big Bear models, which he’ll haul home in a truck.

Leonard Gray, dressed in overalls and wearing a cap reading “Smokey,” presides over this metallic menagerie. His business place is small, just a sheet metal shop in the back and a garage-like “showroom” (the real showroom, of course, is out in front of the shop).

Currently his best seller is the Big Bear, a 55-gallon drum mounted sideways on a wheeled metal frame. Inside there are two grill racks, the upper one big enough to hold chicken or burgers while ribs cook on the lower one. Solid wood shelves of 2x10 run around three sides of it. There are also 35-gallon Medium Bear and 25-gallon Baby Bear models with only one rack.

And then there are the monsters. Long John is two 55-gallon drums welded in line, with a fire box mounted below them. You could cook a lot of meat on its six-foot-long grill, or use it as a smoker. Even more striking is another two-drum, grill-or-smoke model, the Piggy Back, where one 55-gallon drum is mounted above and behind the other, with the two linked by a steel pipe chimney. On the smokestacks of these models, the ventilation control is a hinged metal disk like the lid on a diesel truck exhaust.

All Gray’s models are drenched with practicality. The charcoal sits in heavy-gauge steel pans to prevent burning out the drum metal. (“If you clean that out, these barbecues will last you 25-30 years,” says Gray. “If you don’t, the ash will make the steel rust.”) On the larger models, a rounded “sun visor” is set over the door to the firebox to keep smoke from discoloring the drum. Gray has developed his own elegantly shaped latching handle for firebox doors, so that they open easily and close securely.

Originally from Shreveport, La., Gray got into the barbecue business in Dallas, Tex., 30 years ago when he lost a job and needed work. “I made a barbecue I called ‘good and funny,’ ” he says wryly, “because it cooked good but it was so raggedy-looking. I gave it to a friend, and then other people asked me to make them one, and I started making more.” He moved his business to Los Angeles 10 years ago.

“I’m self-taught,” he says. “I never went to school for this work, not even welding school. It’s all my own work, start to finish. I design it, I build it myself. And when I come up with a new design, I cook in it before I sell one, to make sure it works.”

Summer, for obvious reasons, is his big sales season. “Winter, that’s when I make my exotic stuff, my crazy designs,” he says. “I sit around and say to myself, ‘What if I made it like this?’ Sometimes the way to do it comes to me in my sleep. I’m really a dreamer.”

Even with his old models, he’s constantly refining the design. No two of his barbecues look entirely alike. “I get tired of doing it the same way every time,” he says.

Still, he has thought of setting up an assembly line to mass-produce Bears. People have asked him to put his barbecues in shops on consignment, but he has never been able to do it because he can’t even make enough to satisfy the demand at his own shop.

“I’m really only happy when I’m working back there,” he says. “It’s why my wife left me. ‘You only care about banging on those drums,’ she said.

“But I do like to do it. I love what I do, and if you love your work, you put your heart in it. My heart’s in everything I do.”

Smokey’s Bar-B-Que Pits, 1615 W. Florence Ave., Los Angeles; (213) 971-0227. Little Bear, $85; Medium Bear, $125; Big Bear, $175; Piggy Back, $500.

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“I like brisket,” says Gray, “and I’ve tried cooking it all kinds of ways. This is the one that works best. It’s the only way I do it now.” Cooking takes place in two phases, the first for the barbecued flavor and the second, in foil, for tenderness. For a smokier taste, soak a handful of hardwood chips (such as hickory or mesquite) in water for half an hour and throw on the coals before putting the meat on. Brisket is self-basting if you leave the fat side up while cooking. But because it is a stringy meat, slice across the grain with a very sharp knife, and if you want thin slices, allow the meat to cool for two hours first.

SMOKEY’S BRISKET 1 (5- to 6-pound) beef brisket Seasonings for dry marinade such as black pepper, cumin, paprika and cayenne pepper, optional If using dry marinade, rub meat to taste.

Start 5 pounds charcoal briquets in barbecue. When coals are completely covered with gray ash, place brisket on grill, fat side up. Close barbecue lid and control ventilation according to manufacturer’s instructions for smoking. Smoke 7 to 8 hours, adding more briquets as needed. Do not turn meat.

Remove brisket from barbecue and wrap tightly in several layers of foil. Return to barbecue, or 200-degree oven, and cook until very tender, about 2 hours. Makes 10 to 12 servings.