Steve Ackley’s award-winning pork butt shown as it would be presented to judges for ‘appearance’ scoring.
When Steve Ackley fires up the grill for some barbecue, he doesn’t mess around, as any night owl neighbors are likely well aware.
If the wind blows just right, they may catch a whiff of Ackley’s succulent ribs or chicken … at 1 a.m. The sweet scent of pulled pork might waft by at 3 a.m. His mouth-watering brisket? Open the window anytime.
“My brisket takes 11 hours to cook,” said Ackley matter-of-factly. “Low and slow, that’s the key.”
At this point, you should know something—‘Ack’ is no ordinary backyard BBQ Joe. He’s the Connecticut barbecue champion, and recently returned from competing at the Jack Daniel’s 2014 World Championship Invitational Barbecue in Lynchburg, Tenn., where he finished 33rd out of 92 national and international teams. The event is considered the Super Bowl of BBQ competitions.
Steve Ackley’s barbecue trailer contains everything needed, including smoking cookers in back, for when he travels overnight.
Ackley—who with his award-winning artist wife, Pam, has lived in New Canaan for 22 years—won the Grand Champion title at the Hudson Valley Ribfest last August, topping a field of 60 professionals and qualifying his Ack-Que ‘team,’ which is really him doing all the prep work and cooking, and whoever might be along to help, for the ‘Jack.’ He also received an invitation to the American Royal World Series Invitational Competition in Kansas City in 2015.
Pretty heady stuff for a guy who 10 years ago took a barbecue course just for fun.
“It turned out to be about competition BBQ,” he said. “I started cooking just for my own enjoyment. Then someone said to give competition a shot. I did, and in my first contest won 8th place for pork. That started the addiction.”
And it’s an expensive one at that.
“It’s a bottomless pit,” Ackley, 60, an oil broker by trade, admitted. “Cookers are $2,000 apiece, the meat is $350 for each competition and the entry fee is usually $250.”
Not to mention the two refrigerators and two freezers he bought, filled with meat and keeps in his garage. “And I need a bigger freezer,” he said, chuckling.
Of course, cooking well when it counts helps. Winning Hudson Valley meant a $2,200 payday, and his ribs taking fourth place in an Atlantic City competition earned him $650.
Practice for a pro BBQ’er means, no surprise, barbecuing, and that equates to hours and hours of cooking, monitoring and testing.
Ackley’s BBQ laboratory is a green trailer parked in his driveway. Step inside and you first see two Murphy beds, one above the other, against a wall, the undersides of which serve as boards to write on, as Ackley keeps notes as cooks progress.
New Canaan barbecue professional Steve Ackley preparing meats at the Jack Daniel’s 2014 World Championship, in Lynchburg, Tenn.
On the other side, drawers and cabinets for supplies anchor a long, flat surface used to prepare meats. The end of the trailer has room for several cookers to operate simultaneously, whether practicing or at a competition.
“First the meat is all prepared,” he said. “Everything but brisket has to be sweet. I would never sauce ribs for myself, but if you don’t sauce ribs in competition, you’ll lose.
“At 9:30 p.m. I’ll start the smokers. Pork butt goes in at 11. I’ll be up at 5 a.m. to check it. Other meats will go in the other smokers too. When the pork’s ready I’ll cut the ‘money muscle,’ which is the most tender and sweetest part. That’s what the judges would get.”
In competition, taste and tenderness each account for about 40% of the overall score, with appearance accounting for the rest. Each competitor provides six pieces each of chicken (always dark meat, because it’s the moistest), ribs, pork butt and brisket to the judges, who through double blinds and overlapping labels have no idea who cooked what.
In the judging tent, the CBJs (Certified Barbecue Judges), who have completed courses in the art of judging barbecue, first look at and grade the presentation. They then will take one bite each of 24 samples in all, scoring from a low of two to a high of nine.
“There’s an element of luck that you can’t get around,” said Ackley. “Each judge is basically a table, and there are what we competitors consider ‘tables of death’ for tough scorers and ‘tables of angels’ for easier scorers.
“You usually have an idea how good your stuff is. When I won Hudson Valley, I knew it was the best I ever cooked.”
What happens to all that great leftover barbecue at a competition?
“Judges get to take it home,” noted Ackley. “It’s one of the perks. We can’t give food to spectators. The health departments don’t allow it.”
Competition barbecue is different than restaurant barbecue, according to Ackley. “Meat should never come off the bone when you cook ribs for competition. If it does, they’re overcooked. You’re supposed to be able to leave teeth marks in ribs. Anybody can overcook ribs. Cooking them right is what you get rewarded for.”
The Ackleys have a son, Peter, 33, who sometimes helps his dad cook, but lives elsewhere. That leaves all the great BBQ for Steve and Pam to enjoy, right?
Not quite.
“Pam doesn’t eat red meat,” laments Steve. “So most of what I cook goes to people at the art guilds she frequents. For Christmas last year my son and his wife gave me half a hog. Pam was livid. It was cut right down the middle. I put it on a table and cut loins and hams. A farmer helped me do it.
“I was very happy with it. But it caused some problems here. I have tons of pork left. What am I gonna do, cook a pork roast just for me?”
The Ackleys love living in New Canaan. They moved here from New York City, not knowing anything about the area.
“We knew people in Darien so we looked there, but couldn’t find anything we liked,” Ackley said. “We were driving the realtor mad. Then she said, ‘Let’s look in New Canaan,’ and that’s worked out great.”
While Ackley is now an elite barbecue chef, he’s always enjoyed cooking.
“My mom was a real good cook,” he said. “She taught me everything. I was baking at eight or nine years old. When Pam and me got married, she couldn’t even boil water, but she wanted to cook. There were some contentious early days. But now she’s a much better cook than I am.”
Well, inside maybe.