Hey, Texas! Think you got big barbecues?
Alaska welder and traveling restaurateur Glen Hamilton may have you beat.
His pit weighs 10 tons, stretches 13 feet, 6 inches high and 56 feet, 9 inches long.
Two 4-foot-long grills make up the business end of the contraption, dubbed "No. 9." One is equipped to rotate up to 200 pounds of whole hog over an equally large tray of smoking wood chips. Power winches open the heavy iron lids and a hoist raises the pig out of the pit and swings it around to a waiting table.
But what really sets No. 9 apart is that it gets around under its own steam.
Billed as "The World's Largest Self-Propelled Whole Hog Rotisserie," the capacious cooker is making its Alaska State Fair debut this year, churning out food near the Yellow Gate. If your nose doesn't tell you where to go, look for the full-size reproduction of an old steam locomotive with a coal car on the Grandstand Lawn.
It's appropriate that the fair's theme is "Fun Amongst the Giants" this year, says Hamilton, who lives near Wasilla. "Because that's the most giant self-contained whole hog barbecue anywhere."
We'll examine that claim in a minute. But first:
A TOUR OF THE BEHEMOTH
Under what looks like a steam engine is a 400 horsepower Chevy motor on a 1-ton 4-wheel drive truck chassis to which Hamilton has welded an extension for a third set of wheels. Above the cowcatcher on the front are street-legal headlights and turn signals.
The idea for No. 9 goes back 15 years, when Hamilton, a heavy-equipment operator and metal fabricator who came to Alaska to work on the pipeline in 1973, had to feed 75 people at a family reunion in Montana. He couldn't find enough pots and pans for the job. A relative suggested he rent a whole hog rotisserie, a simple homemade job cobbled together by a local.
"When I saw it, I said to myself, 'I can beat that,' " Hamilton recalled.
But finding the parts wasn't easy. It took Hamilton 10 years to locate a 1923 boiler once used for mining in the Brooks Range. He said he wanted the antique for the nostalgia of its fat, conical rivets that resemble those on old steam locomotives.
That boiler is now the double fire pit. One side holds a grid for burgers and such; the other has the "cage" in which the whole hog slowly rolls and cooks. When the propane- fueled fire is going, smoke rolls through the boiler and out the "locomotive's" stack.
Behind the boiler, overlooking the smokestack, is the cab. The brake, accelerator and automatic transmission are fabricated from iron and made to look like something from Casey Jones' day. Knives, cleavers and spatulas grip magnets along the walls lined with gleaming Diamond Deck aluminum -- stuff usually seen on tricked-out trucks and toolboxes.
The cab and the "coal car" behind it -- a trailer built on a Suburban chassis -- contain a full kitchen, including: generator, 5-foot-long Coleman stove, flat grill, french fryer, pot cooker, freezer, commercial sink, hot-water heater, fresh-water storage, 220-gallon gray-water container -- and a stereo boombox with an iPod dock.
BREAKFAST, THEN 'CUE
No. 9 made a splash at the state fair parade last year, but it wasn't quite ready to serve food. Since then it has made appearances at local events including the Governor's Picnic in the Mat-Su, where Hamilton says, "We fed 3,000 people in 2½ hours."
For culinary expertise, Hamilton turned to a neighbor, John D. Collins, with 55 years experience as a professional cook.
"He advises me on welding; I advise him on barbecue," said Collins.
Hamilton's business, Whole Hog or None Catering, charges $12 per person and up for private feeds; don't call unless you expect at least 50 hungry people. At the fair, you can get a plate of pulled pork and fries for $8.
No. 9 also cooks chicken, turkeys, beef brisket and salmon -- not to mention cakes and pies. Such versatility is practical. Whole hog requires a cooking time of 40 minutes per pound, up to 10 hours for a big pig. While the gang is waiting, cooks can whip up a pancake breakfast on the griddle inside.
WORLD'S BIGGEST?
Traveling pits from the Lone Star State vie for the title of "world's largest." The wood-fired "Monster Smoker," based at Texas Lil's Dude Ranch in Justin, made the claim in 2004; it's 3 inches longer than No. 9.
Then there's Bud Liffick's 80-foot-long, 90,000-pound "Indisputable Cuz," capable of cooking up to 900 briskets all at once.
But none of these leviathans appears to be equipped to cook an entire pig rotisserie-style. We checked with Houston's Dave Klose, the dean of Texas grill-makers, who built Texas Lil's "monster."
"It costs too much to do a rotisserie," he explained.
More to the point, the Texas contenders can't move under their own power. Klose said they all need a semi to get them down the road and into position.
When Hamilton needs to move his rig, he only has to climb into the driver's seat, start that built-in Chevy engine, put 'er in gear and steer off in his chosen direction. However, he also has a tow bar on the front that lets him pull it on highways; trying to get a clear view around the smokestack is a problem when you go faster than backroad speed, he says.
But within those limits it can lumber across the country, smoking the whole way.
"You can put a whole hog in it and head for Seward," Hamilton says, "and by the time you get there, the hog is cooked."
Find Mike Dunham online at adn.com/contact/mdunham or call 257-4332.
