For the love of barbecue - rapido style

Sometimes you just get a craving and it has to be satisfied - immediately.  It usually comes without warning, and for some of the strangest reasons. 
A funny thing happened today.  I was doing a search to find out whether my cousin had won his hometown football game, and a Houston Press article about my family's brisket popped up complete with a photo of a chopped beef sandwich and the Bellville Meat Market sign in the background.  The photo was one of those close-ups that engage all the senses where you can see, taste, smell, and feel the food in the photograph.  The top bun is cocked back just a little bit to show off the goods inside. It's almost smiling at you, inviting you to come on in and have a taste.  It was so good that I wanted, no I needed a chopped beef sandwich immediately. 
Back in Texas, this would have been a craving easily satisfied.  I could take my pick of any number of barbecue houses in Houston, or make the hour's drive from Houston to Bellville to enjoy a barbecue sandwich in the company of my brothers, grandmother, a cousin or two and just about anyone else who else might happen to wander into the store.
In London - not so easy.  I have two options:  A place called Bodeans where I would be served a sticky sweet variation of catsup over meat that they have roasted and called BBQ...or I could make my own.
As a rule, I am always happier with the make your own option.  The problem was, I wanted it NOW! I did not want to wait hours for a mediocre cut of British meat to smoke itself into a passable brisket.  That's not what cravings are about.  Cravings are about instant gratification.  So I improvised. 
I took a small rib steak, seasoned with brisket rub (from home), and seared it on both sides in a pan with hot olive oil.  My instinct was that if I wasn't going to smoke it, I should braise it, but again - there's that pesky long slow cooking process.  So I took a massive shortcut.  I simmered it in water and spices.
I would never forgive myself for allowing liquid smoke to enter my kitchen, so to replicate the smoky flavor that makes brisket, well brisket, I toasted some dried pasilla and ancho chiles and crushed them into a powder.  I added black pepper, sea salt, dried Mexican oregano, garlic, a dash of allspice, and a beef bouillon cube (probably could have done without the cube).  I let that simmer for about about 30 minutes, or until the potato salad and Poffenberger family barbecue sauce was made.  I then removed the steak and chopped it into tiny bits, and put the chopped meat into a shallow pan with a few ladles of sauce and simmered for about 15 more minutes.
I served the meat and sauce on a warm white bread bun with pickles and thinly sliced red onion.  The result was far from perfect, but it tasted good, and did satisfy a craving.  The flavors were mostly there, and pretty good for a serious shortcut.  Surprisingly, the peppers did add a hint of smoke and gave a plain steak a bit of the depth that a nice slow cooked brisket has, but ultimately it was chewy and definitely needed cooking for several more hours to get it to the right texture, and at least 4 hours of smoke to make it taste right. 
However, the sauce hit the nail on the head!  My grandmother has long been recognised as the queen of barbecue sauce, and subsequent generations of Poffenbergers have adapted her closely guarded recipe to their tastes.  We may make our own variations, but we all keep to the basic ethos of her sauce: "keep it fresh, a little on the sweet side, a little on the tangy side, and always make it with love"   The result is barbecue sauce just as you like it.  I prefer a higher proportion of vinegar in mine.  My sister-in-law adds juice to give it a bit of tart.  My mom's is much heavier on the onion, and my grandmother's is a bit thinner, but with a cleaner, more subtle flavor that complements the meat rather than smothers it.  My grandfather most often would barbecue chicken, so her sauce is best suited to the lighter taste of chicken as opposed to beef.  We all make it just as we like it, and it's perfect every time!
So I would say that the moral of the story is that when you crave a taste from home, you can always find a way to get there - but the long way around is always much more satisfying than the shortcut.