5 Ingredient Bacon Wrapped Bratwurst Bites

Year three begins in the Memphis summer, the way all things in Memphis begin: with heat, with humidity, with the understanding that endurance is not optional but essential. I am fifty-nine years old and starting the third year of telling you about my life through the smoke that rises from Uncle Clyde's steel drum, and if you're still with me, friend, then you understand something about patience that most people never learn: that the best stories, like the best shoulders, are the ones that take the longest to tell.

The family map has changed since year one. Marcus is married. Angela is a Johnson. Walter Jr. is a senior coordinator at FedEx. Charlie is twenty-five and thriving in Nashville — the tiredness I heard in her voice last winter has been replaced by something brighter, though she still hasn't told me about the "someone" she mentioned on Memorial Day, and I am practicing the patience I preach. Mama is eighty in September. The route is halved. The knee is managed. The blood pressure is medicated. I am a man in late middle age, which is a polite way of saying I am a man whose body has started writing letters his mind doesn't want to read.

This week I smoked beef short ribs — the dinosaur ribs, plate-sized, rubbed with salt, pepper, garlic, and coffee, the recipe I developed two years ago that has become one of my favorites. Six hours at 250, wrapped in butcher paper for the last two, and the result was magnificent: thick, beefy, the bark peppery and cracked, the fat rendered into silk. I served them to Tyrone, who came over Saturday because Tyrone can sense beef ribs being smoked from across the city the way a shark senses blood in the water — instinctively, immediately, and with intent.

We ate the ribs in the backyard and played dominoes and I won, which I attribute to skill and Tyrone attributes to luck, and we argued about it until the mosquitoes drove us inside, and the arguing was the best part because arguing with your brother is a form of affection that doesn't require vulnerability, and Johnson men are not great at vulnerability, but we are excellent at dominoes arguments.

Now, the short ribs were the headliner — they always are — but I’ll tell you something Tyrone and I have learned over thirty years of backyard afternoons: the game goes long, the dominoes come back out, and a man who planned only one act of food is a man who runs out of food before he runs out of argument. So when the ribs were done and the bones were clean, I reached for the bratwurst and the bacon, because five ingredients and a hot grill are all it takes to keep the evening alive, and keeping the evening alive on a Memphis summer night is its own kind of art.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

4 bratwurst sausages
8 strips thin-cut bacon
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 tablespoon whole-grain or spicy brown mustard
Toothpicks, for securing

Instructions

Preheat. Heat your grill or oven to 400°F. If using the oven, line a rimmed baking sheet with foil and set a wire rack on top.
Slice the bratwurst. Cut each bratwurst into 4 to 5 equal bite-sized rounds, about 1 inch thick each.
Wrap with bacon. Cut each bacon strip in half. Wrap one half-strip of bacon snugly around each bratwurst round and secure with a toothpick.
Make the glaze. Stir together the brown sugar and mustard in a small bowl until a loose paste forms.
Coat the bites. Brush or spoon the brown sugar mustard glaze generously over each bacon-wrapped piece, coating all sides.
Cook. Arrange the bites on the wire rack or grill grates. Cook for 18 to 22 minutes, turning once halfway through, until the bacon is crispy and caramelized and the bratwurst is heated through with nice color on the outside.
Rest and serve. Let the bites rest for 3 to 4 minutes before serving — the glaze will be very hot straight off the heat. Serve with extra mustard for dipping if you like.

Nutrition (per serving)

5 Ingredient Bacon Wrapped Bratwurst Bites — When Tyrone Shows Up and the Ribs Are Gone