I'm sitting in the Palace with a rack of ribs, a pork roast, and a basket of peanuts in the smoker.
Along the way I decided to try a slab of birch wood for some smoke, so I grabbed a small piece from the wood pile, scraped all the bark off, and put it on top of the hot coals.
A half hour later, as I sat entranced, watching little loons on the lake I smelled sweet smoke, closed my eyes, inhaled a few whiffs, and said to myself, "YES! That'll be very good. Very nice!"
Soon, I opened my eyes, and there was the mosquito coil smoke, wafting right into my face. Guess I'm about as much of a gourmet cook as a cat licking its butt. I'm almost ashamed enough not to put it in my journal.