So, This Smoked Pork Shoulder Thing…

You ever have that one dish that feels like home? For me, smoked pork shoulder is it. Whenever my cousin Jake pops by unannounced (usually dragging two extra kids and an appetite big enough for a small village), I know it’s time to break out the smoker and get this beauty rolling. The first time I tried making it, I was convinced I’d turned it into shoe leather. (Spoiler: it was somehow edible, and also—everyone still talks about it.) I always say, you haven’t lived till you’ve fended off eager forks at 2am, carving just a “little more” for everyone standing around the kitchen island. It’s messy, a bit chaotic, but that’s the magic of it, isn’t it?

Why I Keep Coming Back to This

I make this smoked pork shoulder when the crew’s coming over, when the game’s on, or honestly just when I feel like having enough leftovers to last me a week. My family goes properly nuts for it—maybe because it fills the whole house with this drool-worthy aroma. (One time, the neighbor’s dog tried to sneak in. I don’t blame him.) And, you know, it’s surprisingly forgiving. Screwed up the rub a little? Hugely overestimated what “a handful” means? Still delicious.

What You’ll Need To Grab (Plus a Few Swaps I’ve Pulled)

1 whole bone-in pork shoulder (5-8 lbs—mine was 6 lbs last time; I’ve used boneless once but it was, well, just okay)
3 heaping tablespoons brown sugar (light or dark—my grandma always swore by dark Muscovado, I just use what’s there)
2 tablespoons smoked paprika (regular sweet paprika in a pinch, but you lose some of that smoky depth)
1 tablespoon kosher salt (table salt totally works if that’s all you have, but go for less of it)
2 teaspoons black pepper, freshly cracked (if you can swing it)
1 tablespoon garlic powder (once swapped for minced fresh, and it was pretty good too)
1 tablespoon onion powder
1 teaspoon cayenne (I sometimes chicken out and halve this, especially if Nana’s coming)
1/2 cup yellow mustard (yup, the squirt-bottle kind—have tried fancy Dijon, didn’t notice a wild difference, honestly)
Wood chips or chunks (hickory is my go-to; applewood once made it a little sweet, which is fun)
If you want to mop: half a beer, a glug of apple cider vinegar, splash of apple juice (I mix whatever’s open in the fridge; fancy, huh?)

Let’s Get to the (Laid-Back) Directions

Early start! If you’re smoking the next day, get the rub and prep done the night before—believe me, it’s just easier. Pat the pork shoulder dry, take off any tight packaging, and sometimes I trim a bit of fat but never all of it. Layer on the yellow mustard like sunscreen at the beach. Then pile up your sugar, paprika, salt, pepper, garlic, onion, and cayenne—massage that into the meat like it owes you money. Pop it in the fridge, covered, for at least 8 hours. (But once I forgot and did only 2 hours—turned out totally decent.)
Prep your smoker: Aim for a steady 225°F (about 107°C). I use a little pellet job (here’s one I drool over on Serious Eats), but any grill with a lid will muddle through. Even tried my mate’s cheap offset smoker once—couldn’t hold temp, but it was a hoot.
Get smoking. Chuck the pork right on the grate, fat-side up. Add your wood of choice. Now, here’s the trick: don’t peek too often. Every time you lift that lid, precious heat goes bye-bye. Plan on 1.5-2 hours per pound; for a 6-pounder, that’s 9-12 hours. Grab a book, or, honestly, binge something on Netflix.
The stall: Sometime around 150-165°F, it’ll seem like nothing’s happening for hours. This is brutal. Don’t panic. If you want, wrap your pork in butcher paper or foil to help push it through (aka the ‘Texas Crutch’). Sometimes I just let it ride out, especially if I’ve got time to kill.
Final temp fun: Shoot for 195-203°F. The bone should wiggle like a loose tooth. I usually sneak a taste at this stage—don’t judge! Move it to a pan; let it rest, covered with foil, for at least 30 minutes (though honestly, patience isn’t my strong suit here).
Pull and serve: Use forks or, if you’re a real believer, those bear claw things. Shred it up. Don’t freak if it looks a bit weird at this point—always comes together when you mix in the crusty, barky bits. Sample liberally for quality control.

Stuff I’ve Learned (Mostly By Messing Up)

That stall I mentioned? The first time, I thought I’d broken physics. Turns out, it’s just science doing its thing. Try wrapping; or don’t. Both ways work.
Too much smoke, and you get an oddly bitter flavor. I’ve overdone it on mesquite—wouldn’t recommend, unless you like licking fireplace bricks.
Don’t bother cleaning your smoker bright and shiny every time. A little “seasoning” (read: old bits stuck on) is fine in my book.
Honestly, resting the pork for longer makes it juicier—but I still get impatient and sneak bites.

Things I Tried…Some Worked, Some Didn’t

Did it once with a cola-and-chipotle mop sauce—pretty wild, in a good way. Not everyone’s cup of tea though.
Used a gas grill with a shallow tray of wood chips—surprisingly okay, but no bragging rights there.
One time, I tried brining overnight with apple juice. Meh. Didn’t notice a big difference.

What You’ll Want (But Don’t Stress If You Don’t Have It)

Smoker. Pellet, offset, Kamado—whatever’s got a lid and controls temps. Don’t have one? Serious Eats shows how to hack a grill into a smoker.
Meat thermometer—instant-read is swell. Or just jab it to see if the bone moves easily. Sounds sketchy, but works in a pinch if you’ve done it a few times.
Some tongs or forks for pulling. Metal salad claws once worked for me when everything else was in the dishwasher.
Aluminum foil (for wrapping or tenting at the end).
A big pan to catch pork juice. If you cook it fat side up, it’ll drip a bit; don’t stress about fancy trays.

How to Store the Leftovers (If You’re Lucky Enough To Have Any)

Let it cool down to room temp—popping it away while still hot steams it oddly. Stick leftovers in a resealable container; fridge for up to 4 days, freezer for 2-3 months. In reality, this has never survived more than a day or two at my house—no idea about the science of long-term storage!

How I Like to Serve It Up

All right, so this is contentious in my family—sandwiches, or just on a big plate with a fork and nothing but some decent slaw. (I lean slaw, but my kids load it onto supermarket buns with extra pickles, and there’s open rebellion if I forget the BBQ sauce.) Oh, and if you’re feeling ambitious, warm up some tortillas for DIY tacos. Occasionally, I’ll scatter on some chopped scallions because they look fancy.

Handy Tips (AKA Stuff I Learned the Hard Way)

I once tried rushing the resting—do not skip this. I wound up with drier pork and instant regret.
Don’t go nuts with the rub—too thick and you get clumps that don’t stick.
Actually, I find it works better if I slice just a little fat off but leave most of it. Makes the bark tastier.

Wait, What About…? (FAQs I Genuinely Get Asked)

“How much pork per person, really?”
Figure about 1/2 pound per person, but if you’ve got teens, just double it. They eat like they’re storing up for winter!
“Can I skip the overnight rub?”
Sure, but honestly, letting it sit even a couple hours makes a huge difference in flavor. On second thought, do what you’ve got time for—it’ll work out.
“Is a bone-in shoulder really better?”
I think so! There’s something about that bone that, I don’t know, seems to keep things juicier. Boneless works, but lacks a bit of…soul, maybe?
“What if weather’s bad?”
Rain’s never stopped me! Throw a folding chair in the garage or under an awning—good excuse for another beer.
“Why does my smoke ring look so small?”
No clue, honestly. It’s sort of science-y. Don’t let it bother you—the actual taste is what counts.

Oh, a quick sidetrack—my neighbor once tried this recipe with a big chunk of venison. I wouldn’t recommend it unless you really like adventure… and wild flavors…

Anyway, if you’re after the full party, pair your pork shoulder with ice-cold drinks, people you adore, and don’t forget the napkins. Because things WILL get messy, and that’s the sign of a job well done.

Smoked Pork Shoulder Recipe