Wow! Look at that!"
I'm wildly gesturing at the TV from my station on the living room couch. Wendy, startled from my excitement, pops her head up and starts seriously scanning out the window for some unknown threat to her domain. Beth casually glances up from the magazine she's halfheartedly browsing through.
"You missed it!" I exclaim in disbelief as I reach for the remote to rewind the DVR. I hit play and we watch it again. Jamie Oliver is sitting somewhere in the yard of his seemingly endless English estate, hunched over a cobblestone fire pit. He's roasting a big chunk of meat. But that's not important. "Look what he's using! The rotisserie is a wind up thing." I'm in awe. I am a hopeless gadget freak, and this ... This is amazing! A big box that can be wound up like a clock or music box, then you stick a meat spit in one end and "Presto", a wind up rotisserie. No cords, plugs, batteries. Ingenious! There is an elegance there that I can't let go of. "That's cool." Even Beth is impressed.
I'm wildly gesturing at the TV from my station on the living room couch. Wendy, startled from my excitement, pops her head up and starts seriously scanning out the window for some unknown threat to her domain. Beth casually glances up from the magazine she's halfheartedly browsing through.
"You missed it!" I exclaim in disbelief as I reach for the remote to rewind the DVR. I hit play and we watch it again. Jamie Oliver is sitting somewhere in the yard of his seemingly endless English estate, hunched over a cobblestone fire pit. He's roasting a big chunk of meat. But that's not important. "Look what he's using! The rotisserie is a wind up thing." I'm in awe. I am a hopeless gadget freak, and this ... This is amazing! A big box that can be wound up like a clock or music box, then you stick a meat spit in one end and "Presto", a wind up rotisserie. No cords, plugs, batteries. Ingenious! There is an elegance there that I can't let go of. "That's cool." Even Beth is impressed.
That, was several months ago. The idea has since been floating around in my head, bubbling up once in a while. Mr. Oliver picked his prize up in an antique store. Given his resources and lifestyle, that's not a likely option for me. So, while I had not forgotten about this wonder, it had eventually taken on a "hey, that would be neat" quality to be pursued at some future date. But then, after working on the wood oven and it's surroundings, the idea came back. We had talked about a fire pit close to the oven. Time to start thinking on this again. 'Thinking' meaning 'Let's Google it and see what pops up'. But what to search on? 'Wind Up Spit Thingy?' 'Wind Up Rotisserie?' After a few searches, I began to realize I was not alone out there. Several on-line forums had been talking about the idea when the show had first aired (I was watching old reruns). Finally, someone mentioned a web site (SpitJack.com) of where to look. I looked. There it was. At the time, there were even two models! I also learned a bit more about this device. It is called a Clock Jack. They were popular with hunters in Europe and America back in the day and can also be used in front of a fireplace. Real antiques can run into the thousands, but these are reproductions. I bit the bullet and ordered one.
When it came I was impressed. This sucker is heavy, a little more than a foot tall. Looking it over, you begin to realize how our modern expectations of goods have declined. This is not something pressed out of a factory by the thousands. The quality of this thing is amazing. It is sturdy and well built. While not a polished finish, it is well done with hand painted gold trim. The fittings and sockets for the crank and spit are solid brass, not cheap chromed steel. There are two spit sockets and it comes with two spits for double duty cooking. On the far end, a separate stand is provided with several slots to hold the business end of the spit.
The sockets themselves are cleverly gimbled so that the end of the spit can be dropped down at an angle to get object of roasting closer to the coals without undoing the spit itself. Inside the box, a collection of gears and springs are neatly aligned, ready to go. And the bell. Yes, there is a bell to warn you when to rewind as the crank/spring is running down. A lot of thought (and production time) has gone into this. To say the least, I was pleased.
So, off I went to piece together a quick fire pit. I lit up some chunk charcoal to get ready. In the mean time, I had a small pork roast prepared with some pear glaze that we cooked up earlier. I pre-cooked the roast about an hour in the oven just to speed things up a bit. I had also found the last of the squash blossoms that morning, so I picked some and stuffed them with some sausage.
Then off to the fire with my loaded spit. I spread the coals, installed the spit, and cranked up the rotisserie. And there it was! All that temptation, anticipation, thought, googling, and now .... it was merrily spinning around! I grabbed a chair and a beer and sat back listening to the gear box whirring away.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! The bell is going off. Pavlov would be beside himself knowing Wendy has immediately "tuned" into the bell. She jumps up and comes running over to me and nudges my arm. "Come on!" "Get going!" She's in her own world of awe as we are actually roasting a chunk of pork ... down low ... at her eye level ... where she can watch and smell! As you might imagine, it has her complete attention.
I rewind the box and apply more glaze to the roast ... and then sit back again. We repeat this cycle about four times until the meat has come up to temp.
I rewind the box and apply more glaze to the roast ... and then sit back again. We repeat this cycle about four times until the meat has come up to temp.
I shut down the fire and take everything inside. While the meat sits to rest, I fry up the squash blossoms and stir fry some zucchini and carrots as a side. And there we have it! A nice roast and veggies. All from a couch potato day of TV watching.
RSS Feed