Barbecue (2017) Movie Script
1
I've found that fire.
When you really think
about it...
it is something
that brings people together.
At night it gets cold and dark.
If the fire is small
it's hard to get warm,
but the bigger the fire is,
the warmer it is.
So fire makes people
huddle around,
to talk and tell stories.
The glow of the flames
draws people in,
bringing them closer together.
I must say,
I think South Africans
are the best braaiers.
I think we are on top in
the world when it comes to
putting the best meat
on the table for our friends
at the end of the day.
Listen,
when I started working,
they didn't even
have computers.
Braai in South Africa,
first and foremost,
is about good conversation.
Secondly, about very good meat.
Thirdly about
lots of voggies.
But even just to get together
and be merry.
That's, obviously, what it's
really about at the end of the day.
To have a lekker time.
Lekker is lekker,
that's all there is to it.
That's what it means,
it's lekker to visit your
friends, or this food is lekker.
Braai is lekker,
because we drink!
Go!
Yes!
Townships were first built
around the 1950s.
It was a way of segregating
black people from white people.
As time went by,
and freedom arrived,
townships changed, and have become
a place where black people can have fun.
Barbecuing is something that black
people and white people have always done.
Barbecuing used to be something
you did just for fun.
Now it is something people
can make a business out of.
I found this place
and cleaned it up by myself.
Before me, it was a dump.
There was dirt,
rubbish and diapers.
But I saw it as a spot
where I could work.
I started with
rusted corrugated iron.
And people thought,
"What good can come from here?"
I want people to see that you can
always find a way to make a living.
They must know that God gave
them hands, a brain and ears.
And when He gave you these
things, it wasn't for someone else.
You can't give your hands
away like a spade, or a fork.
You need to work for yourself.
It's lekker.
It's primal.
The fact that you're standing around
a fire, braaiing a raw piece of meat.
What I really like about
organizing a big braai
is the opportunity
to meet new people.
People are
not necessarily friends
and they don't necessarily
stay friends
but they can interact.
Unfortunately, growing up
with an Afrikaans upbringing...
I was 18 years old towards
the end of the Apartheid.
I was raised to fear
black South Africans.
Um, although
it wasn't intentional,
we were all raised with this idea that it
was dangerous to know black people.
Everyone treated black people
as if they were inferior,
um, as if they couldn't do the
same things that white people did.
Um, which is unfortunate,
because as children, you're easily
influenced in the way you think.
Obviously, when you're a
teenager, you start to think differently.
Luckily for me,
things started changing.
You make up your own mind,
and you start to figure out
that people are just people.
Every person has the right to be
who they are, and to be respected.
Every person has a story about
who they are, or how they behave.
Respect for who people are,
understanding where
they come from,
makes it easier
for people to get along.
To give people a chance
to be who they are,
free of any judgment.
It's a cyclical lifestyle.
One's own state of living...
is cyclical.
That's what I wanted to obtain.
Since coming here,
what is really
important for living
and the ability
to live without excess...
That has become
clearer and clearer...
to me.
Every leaf is its own god.
Every tree is a god.
The mountain itself is a god.
With that in mind,
I receive the trees
from the mountain.
I give them my best regards
and ask that I am not
injured by them.
And then I do my work.
There was an article in some
magazine about the charcoal maker here
and I wanted
to see it in reality.
So I came and visited.
And I made the decision
right there
that this was the place.
I was in pursuit of beauty,
and of functionality.
We cut down the wood
and prepare it.
Then we put the wood
into the kiln and seal it up.
After, underneath the kiln, there's
something called a "kogama."
We start the fire there.
Inside it is like a roast.
Then we leave it,
for about a month.
During that time, the raw wood
above almost completely dries out.
The raw wood is inherently
flammable, of course.
So when it reaches
a certain temperature,
the heat breaks it down
and it turns to carbon.
This white charcoal
is called "binchotan."
Saying "I enjoy, playing
with fire" sounds strange...
but I do enjoy cooking
with a flame.
At some point, I just became
crazy about cooking yakitori
and I've now been doing it
for 32 years. Hmm.
I just know that I enjoy
raising the temperature.
The hotter the flame, the
more delicious the yakitori.
So I want to use
a quality binchotan.
Would you call it a fight?
Yeah, it's a fight.
The temperature must be high.
To achieve this high
temperature, you must let in air.
You need lots of air.
Grilling is a simple task,
but your timing
has to be spot on.
Perfecting it is truly difficult,
and it takes a long time.
Put simply, yakitori is
anything pierced onto a skewer.
It's a very simple food.
But the heat at which
you cook is the thing.
By adding sake, you draw
out the sweetness and umami.
I believe it's the most simple,
but also most profound food.
With tebasaki,
or chicken wings,
the skin must be crispy.
The oil between the skin
and the meat is delicious.
So, if the temperature is low,
the oil runs off.
And if the temperature is high,
it becomes crispy.
But if you add sake,
it turns a beautiful color.
And to get that crispy,
juicy meat,
you have to use
binchotan and sake.
With breast meat
it's a part without much oil.
So after cooking,
you add soy sauce and wasabi.
As for the innards, they're
quite an acquired taste.
So with things like liver, I coat it
with tare sauce before cooking.
It's also very easy to eat
with karashi mustard.
Yakitori is a food brimming
with creativity.
You can have very cheap
yakitori restaurants,
and you can have this kind of
fine-dining restaurant.
You can have cheap
yakitori places in an alleyway
or you can make it into a dining
restaurant in New York, London, or Paris.
With yakitori, people connect,
it's a friendly feeling.
You can say,
"lets go to yakitori,"
and just go casually down
to the restaurant.
It doesn't matter
if it's expensive or not.
It's a friendly atmosphere, and you
can chat about absolutely anything.
Yakitori is definitely
something that's for the people.
Perhaps it's something primal.
Using flames to grill meat,
and all eating together.
It's something our ancestors
might have done.
I wonder
if we have that in our DNA.
Cooking the meat you caught
on an open fire, all eating together.
It's along the same lines.
Using fire to cook meat is
perhaps something only humans do.
That may well be the
beginning of the human race.
That's something special.
I've never really
thought of it before,
but talking about it now,
that's what I think.
Hard work, huh?
I was brought up
in the country,
I was brought up in Mount
Barker, when it was a country town.
And I went to the city for
that particular period of my life.
Managed to get on all right.
Made a lot of money
through the city.
Had my own business
and all that sort of stuff.
At the end of the day, the city
wasn't my cup of tea, so I left.
I had many, many
good times in the city
and I also had
lot of hard times in the city.
But to me, the city's
dead and gone.
I had my time there,
I've come back here...
Country's me.
Well, here we've got no
traffic lights for a start off.
Got some really good
mates here.
Everybody knows everybody.
You can't even go down the
street without someone waving
or saying "G'day" to you,
you know.
You know, I like taking
something old
and making it new again.
It's a joy!
You come across something that's
absolutely pretty well stuffed and fucked,
and you turn around and
you completely refurnish it.
Then you look at that product, and
you go, "Fuck me drunk, I did that!"
You ain't going to get any
better self satisfaction than that.
I've been a pub man
all my life.
And I'll probably die
being a pub man.
Some pubs you can go into
and you get ignored,
and you get snubbed off
and all that sort of shit.
Not the Corny.
You know, everyone's got a smile on
their dial, "G'day, how're you going?"
Whether you're a stranger
or not a bloody stranger,
you know, you say,
"G'day" to everybody.
All right,
and that's a country pub.
You greet people
with friendship,
you're going
to get friendship back.
You treat 'em with agro,
you're going to get agro back.
Friendship's
the better way to go.
And that's
the Corny Hotel to me.
Because we all kick back,
all crack a joke, you know.
Some clean, some dirty.
Not many clean ones,
a lot of dirty ones...
But we still have
a good time, you know.
And that's what it's all about, having
some fun, kick a barbecue in the guts.
It's probably the only pub
in Australia that ever does it.
They put it on every Saturday and
every Sunday, you know, for us patrons.
And to those who turn up,
have a good morning.
They get nice cold beer, the pub
gets supported, and they're getting fed.
Yeah, it is easy.
Until someone changes the
program and puts some bloody kebabs
or something stupid
like that on, you know,
that you don't know
how to cook.
That throws the whole barbecue
right out of line.
Chops, sausages, googie eggs,
a bit of onion,
and bread and butter,
salt and pepper, dead horse.
That's it. That's the barbecue.
I'd like to see salmon patties on
there, but no one's done that yet.
Nah, just bacon, eggs, snags.
Just your basic shit.
That's what a barbecue is.
It's not like putting
a hangi down,
where you've got to spend
hours and hours.
Barbecue, you should be able
to start it up, crank it up.
Over and done with
in half an hour,
everybody's sitting down
having a feed.
As long as you've got
someone decent cooking!
Hey...
Hey, how are you?
G'day, Stewy!
It's not so much the tucker.
The tucker's nice, yeah.
It's the atmosphere that
stands around the barbecue.
You've got people
talking to people.
You have women talking to
women, blokes talking to blokes,
you've got blokes talking
to women.
How many marriages have been
made at a barbecue?
And where people have met?
Yeah, it's friendship.
It's friendship.
That's what barbecues do.
That's what they do to people,
they bring 'em together.
You meet 'em, you say, "G'day."
If a friendship forms,
it forms.
If it doesn't form, you tell 'em to get
fucked and send them on their bike.
That's the way it is.
That's a barbecue.
It brings people together.
All right?
Well, that's,
that's my opinion.
Countryside living
generally is really nice.
Maybe because
it's our ancestral land.
My grandfathers, my father,
lived here.
Everything is wide open.
It's an open steppe grassland,
where everything is calm.
If you speak in current trends, then
there is no stress, and it's very serene.
Even your mind
is much more relaxed.
In the city, it's different.
There's more pressure.
You have to do this,
you have to do that.
Here, your main responsibility
is herding animals.
There's not much else
to worry about.
The legend of
the marmot is that,
the marmot promised he'd
never drink water, or eat grass,
would never go out in the dark,
would stay in his hole,
and in order to keep his
promise, he cut off his thumb.
I used to kill the marmot,
and sell the fur and meat,
in order to survive.
But now I hear the number
of marmot is diminishing.
So this is why they've
prohibited the hunting of marmot.
Firstly, you put two hot stones
into the rear legs,
and a big stone in the butt.
Then you put some meat,
then two or three stones,
then more meat, and
more stones, until it's full.
Last time we used a sharp stone,
it poked a hole through the skin.
Usually, we use
a very rounded stone.
You open it up,
sit down together, and eat.
Coming here from far away,
finding a wife, having three
beautiful children.
It really is the happiest
thing in my life.
Personally, I've never made
goat boodog on my own,
but I think it will be okay.
I will make it tomorrow.
Get it in the legs,
in the legs!
Keep those tongs away from me!
Because you all gather,
sit down and enjoy
the boodog together,
the meat tastes better.
The main pleasure of the meal
comes from eating it
and sharing it together
as a whole family,
because you laugh,
and smile, and talk.
That's the pleasure of
sharing it with your family.
I am very proud
that I am Mongolian.
Our ancestors said
that we have ties to the sky.
So I am really proud
that I am a Mongolian.
If there is such a thing
as being reborn,
I'd like to be born
as a Mongolian again.
Like this.
It becomes an extreme...
form of depression
when it's very cold
for a long period.
You get tired, and feel down.
You don't have the happiness
and willingness to do stuff,
create stuff, be creative.
You get bunkered in,
just laying around watching TV.
And the very second
the sun starts shining,
there's some kind of
euphoria in people.
And in some way,
you have to go out,
you have to do stuff outside.
You have to take the
opportunity to experience the sun,
the warmth, for as long
as you have it.
You have to fill up
on sunlight,
so that you have the memory
of it for the rest of the year.
So, really when summer's near,
the engangsgrill
becomes hard currency.
The engangsgrill is practical.
It's a small box
in which you have coal,
and it comes with
a flammable piece of paper.
So it's a complete grill set
which is ready to be used.
It's very easy to engangsgrill,
maybe that's why you do it.
It's a bit like the industrial
revolution in a tin foil package.
You rip off
the plastic wrapper,
take out a match,
and wait for 20 minutes.
And when the glow is grey,
you can start grilling.
It's like a self-mounting tent,
or a self-inflating pool bed.
It's ready to go.
It's that
"ready-to-go" concept.
Just light it in that corner.
Everyone grills.
There isn't really
a certain personality
that makes you grill,
or not grill.
However, when you're
in a group,
there are
different personalities
and usually there will be one person
who takes charge, who is the driving force.
And in my case, I don't know.
Sometimes you become
that driving force,
to make sure things get done.
I don't think that there is
anywhere in the whole world
where you can find such
sun-sick people as in Sweden.
So when the sun comes out
after six months of absence,
people are running
out of their houses,
just to get some sun
on their face.
There's a certain vibe
from sitting outside
all night long.
Until the sun rises
extremely early,
and it kind of gets romantic, in
a way that only exists in summer.
Swedes are innovative
and creative people,
like Ikea,
and that whole thing.
The only problem with it is,
that you can't really regulate
the coal and the heat,
so when it goes out,
you're fucked.
Us men are like whisky, which
gets better with age, so to say.
But my life right now,
I feel like I'm on my way
to being an adult.
But not adult enough
to buy my own barbecue.
I'm incredibly fortunate
to be able to do what I want,
to live in a really great
country and have a good start,
and to have
those possibilities.
...use this place either
as buyers or sellers
that are respecting justice and
trying to consider themselves
as working for the common good.
To find joy in contributing to
the progress of the earthly city.
We ask this through
Christ, our Lord.
Our Father, who art in heaven.
Holy be your name...
When I first killed a pig,
it was not easy.
When I cut the pig's throat,
it did not die quickly.
At first it was a big struggle,
but now I can kill it easily.
You put the pig in a barrel with
boiling water, and shave off its hair.
Then you cut the pig
down the middle,
and take out
its internal organs.
You put it on the pole,
then put in the spices.
After that, you put it over
the coals, and start rolling.
I am only concentrating
on my work.
My only concern is that
it will be cooked on time.
I don't think of other things.
Only my work, because that
is what's important.
I learnt how to cook it
by watching others.
I put it in my brain,
to learn it.
And now, I've been doing it
for 30 years.
For the skin to be crispy,
the first step is...
The coals should be just right.
The crispiness is
because the heat is right.
If the heat does not reach
the other parts of the lechon,
it will not be crispy,
and the skin will be rubbery.
When you stop turning it,
it will burn.
You keep rolling,
so it cooks evenly.
When I cook the lechon,
I don't need to eat,
I'm already satisfied
with the smell.
I feel full.
So I'll just drink water.
I'm happy as long
as there's water.
I seldom go to church,
but I always pray.
I pray to God for good health,
more business,
and that my children and my
grandchildren will not be sick.
That's all I ask from God.
Good health always.
When eating lechon,
the first taste test
is the skin.
If I keep licking my fingers,
it means it's good lechon.
But if it's not tasty,
I won't eat any more.
If it doesn't taste right,
why bother licking my fingers!
The best lechon is in Cebu.
Outsiders who come to Cebu,
they always want to taste the lechon.
The best lechon
is made in Cebu.
Cooking with heart,
that's how I do it.
When I cook lechon,
I cook it wholeheartedly.
That's what I can give
to my customers.
It is a spiritual environment
for each of us,
where different conversations
are held.
The asado calls us
and reunites us.
I believe that is the thing, the
essence of the Uruguayan asado.
For all Uruguayans, the
theme of the asado is the same.
From a very young age, let's
say from when you're a baby,
you're already experiencing
asados, because it's a tradition
from many years ago,
from our ancestors.
We maintain this.
And we still do it
almost every day.
Uruguay's greatest wealth,
undoubtedly, is its agriculture
and its beef.
Above everything else,
the beef.
I don't know if it's
because I'm Uruguayan,
but I find the asado's meat
so tasty.
I love it.
I love doing asado. I love it!
I love it.
There's nothing tastier
than an asado,
and for me, I'll never say
no to an asado.
Whenever I'm invited to an
asado or put one on myself,
I love it.
Here, life happens
in a more tranquil way.
Everyone knows each other.
We experience and enjoy the beautiful
moments that happen in our town.
To be an Armenian...
Well... how to describe that? You
have to be an Armenian to know that.
Hard working,
joyful, hospitable.
A people who have
suffered in the past.
This is what it means
to be an Armenian.
Always emigrating.
We have always been
made to change our home.
We are few,
but we are Armenians!
And there isn't a country in the
world that doesn't have Armenians!
When you make a fire, and put
children of different nationalities around,
you can guess
which one is the Armenian.
If everyone is sitting still,
the Armenian will be
playing with the fire.
We are all said to be fiery.
We have the phrase,
"fiery Armenian."
The Armenian's horse
is a fiery horse.
The Armenian soul
is fire and flames.
I have loved sculpture
since childhood.
You have to be in a good mood
to make a sculpture.
If you are angry,
you can't make a sculpture.
Making khorovats is an art too.
You have to be eager, put your soul
into it, to make the khorovats tasty.
The interesting thing is, you
make it with your own hands,
and then you enjoy it.
That's the best thing, that you
make it with your own hands
and put your soul into it.
And then enjoy it with
your friends and family.
People that are close to you.
Come here, my little one!
Is it ready?
Leave it a little longer.
Generally, everyone else wants
to do the khorovats themselves,
or at least give you advice...
Like, "you'll burn it," "turn it
faster," "you don't know how to do it."
But I'll say it again,
one person should do it.
The most important thing is that you
have to have vodka by the khorovats.
Just before it's ready,
when you first sample
the khorovats,
you drink by the fire
with your friends,
and that is the most enjoyable
and tastiest moment.
I was very naughty as a child!
When I was a child,
I was very naughty.
My father used to do
khorovats a lot,
because we always had
people coming over.
I remember this
from a young age.
Now I do it myself.
I learnt from watching
how my father did it.
I've now done it
many, many times.
And it turns out well!
It's something that you
pass from one to another
because one can't
learn it all at once.
Even a builder does not learn
to build a wall instantly.
Someone has to teach him.
Like all craftsmen,
everyone has their secrets.
The secret... Well, usually,
you don't give out the secrets.
The secret is in your hand.
Even if the recipe is the same,
it's the hand of the one who
makes it that matters in the end.
Everybody's hand
has its own taste,
and as such,
you get different results.
The motherland is one of the
most valuable things there is.
It's your parents,
it's your kids,
it's one of the very, very
best things you have.
It is irreplaceable.
It's not something
that you can explain.
You are connected
to your motherland
with your soul, with your body,
with your subconscious.
Motherland is the same
as your family.
This earth gave birth to you,
fed you. Your roots are here.
No, I reject this idea
of abandoning my country.
Every day in our village,
there were bombs
from the ground or the air.
We had children
and old people,
so we had to leave.
When we came to the camp,
it was just tents,
and desert.
We had everything.
We moved to
a very, very bad life.
Usually you move
to a better life!
We came to a desert.
Limited water, no electricity.
No freedom.
You can't leave the camp.
You can only live on the coupons
you receive from the United Nations.
You have to find
another income.
Most of the people living in
the camp have to create one.
This restaurant
is considered...
one of the first in the camp.
It was the first shawarma
and falafel restaurant.
I really like shawarma a lot.
Not just the taste, I like to
work with it, and practice a lot.
It's a trade I truly enjoy.
I learned it in Syria, at a restaurant
I worked in for seven years.
I established my life
when I came here.
I organized my life.
I never thought
I'd have work here.
Or that I could continue
my trade here, my life here.
For sure, it has lots of
spices, too many to name.
You must learn the spices
you work with.
Nobody in the camp
knows the mixture that I make.
I am the first to use this
mixture, it's very tasty.
Syrians like shawarma.
Most Syrians, particularly
those from Hauran living here
have shawarma
almost every day.
We care about
the type of meat we use.
It must be first class.
The spices also.
And then there's also
our shawarma chef.
Good customer service
brings people in.
If you don't deal with people
nicely, they will never come back.
For me,
I want to return home.
Things here will go on
forever. Home would be better.
Because you grew up there
and every human being
wants to be in their home.
They don't want to be
away in another country.
In my case, if I go back
to my home country,
every person, Allah willing,
every Syrian will go back to their
home, and live life happily again.
I want to be happy,
with my family
and open my own restaurant,
and organize myself.
Allah willing, if the bombing
eases or stops,
all of us will return home.
As a human, you have to go back
to your homeland,
to where you grew up,
to your past, to your land.
You have to go back
for the sake of your children.
There is no future
for the children here.
Coming from somewhat
from outside of Texas...
Of course they're going to think,
you know, rodeo, maybe cowboy boots.
Everyone carries a gun
in their pickup truck,
and wears a cowboy hat and
goes to church on Sunday and...
You know, all of those idyllic romantic
Texas things and there is a lot of that!
There's a pride about Texas,
there's the reason why a
mockingbird is our state bird.
He's the one who sits
in the top of the tree
and is loudest
above all others, you know?
I think a lot of people when they
eat barbecue, they're kind of...
it takes them back
to a different time or memory
or a story from a grandparent.
You have these joints
that are 50, 100 years old.
And you have new joints that...
You know, a lot of them are inspired
by these pitmasters of times past.
Barbecuing in
an open pit flame
or any kind of fire
goes back to cowboy days.
It goes back, you know,
to the beginning of mankind.
They had to cook their food,
so they had to make a fire.
It's just that we're still
cooking that way.
So it's usually a dry rub
with no sauce,
cooked over post oak.
We call it an indirect
heat style of cooking.
And that's where there'll be a fire
box at one end of the cooking pit
and a chimney at the other.
And so the chimney pulls the
heat and the smoke over the meat.
We work hard, we play hard.
We do everything
in a very big way
and barbecue is
another one of those things.
It's very big. It makes
a statement. It's bold.
Texans are just that way.
To my way of thinking,
hands on cooking is...
my way to fly.
You have to drink
the Kool-Aid to do this.
There's just no other way
around it.
It's a difficult job,
it's a harder life.
But it has to be
a labor of love.
And if you're not in it
for the right reasons,
it'll shorten your life span,
I think.
I don't know many people
who want to get up
at two o'clock
in the morning
just to come to work
and, you know, grind it out for
ten or 12 hours, and then go home.
Somebody's got to
light the fire,
somebody's got to
get the meat out,
they've got to season it,
they've got to cut it,
make sure it's on the pit, and
make sure it's cooked right...
and that takes a lot of hours,
and a lot of talent.
In April,
I will be 81 years old
and I really don't
feel like my age.
I don't worry about hard work.
I enjoy work. I'm a workaholic.
Uh, it's hot in the summer
time, it's cold in the winter time,
but I enjoy it
so I keep cooking.
Our method is real basic,
a very simple seasoning and a lot of
tender loving care in the cooking process.
You know, Ms. Tootsie's been
doing this for, you know, 40 plus years.
A lot of what we do is based off
of what she's done for many years.
Well, just here
in Central Texas,
I mean, that's all we know
is barbecue.
Long and slow is the secret,
I think to brisket
'cause it is
a tough cut of meat.
It's a stringy cut of meat,
so you have to be careful not
to overcook it or cook it too fast.
So it takes a lot of
tender loving care with it.
We live in the greatest country
in the world today,
and that gives us the right to choose
what we do on a Saturday night.
And I don't care what they
tell you in Washington D.C.
Because no man sitting behind
the desk in the Oval Office
in 2016 has given
us that right.
It is those brave men and women
that have raised their right hand.
They've sworn to defend the Constitution
of the United States of America,
against all enemies,
foreign and domestic...
When Edgar and I took over
the restaurant, we had a sign up.
At one side,
it said "Colored Only,"
and then the other
was for whites.
And Edgar and I decided
that was not right,
we just did not
like that at all.
And so, we were going to
take the sign down and we did!
And we had some of our
customers say,
"Well, we'll never be back
to your restaurant!"
And he says, "Well, I'm sorry
you feel that way,
but this is the way
it needs to be."
We just thought it was
something that needed to be done.
And we wanted to be
a part of trying to get it
to where we felt like
all people should be equal.
So I guess it was just
something that he and I
really felt deep in our hearts,
that needed to be done.
In life, the only way you're going to
get ahead is that you gotta work for it.
You know, nobody's just going
to just drop something in your lap.
I mean, you've just got to get out
there and, as my dad would say, "hustle."
"Got that hustle!"
I had visions
of becoming a doctor.
We have several doctors
in my family,
and I wanted to be
an orthopedic specialist.
It so happened my father
became ill
the summer before I
graduated from college so...
my dad's dying wish
was to keep the business open.
So, I'm still here.
And it's been good.
I have no complaints.
I feel like, you know, God
plays a role in our lives
and I think this was something He
thought that I was probably better at
than being a doctor,
so there it is.
There's a lot for respect for the animal
that gave his life for what we're doing.
And there's not a day that goes by that I
don't think about the amount of animals
it took for us to serve
our menu for the day.
I mean, today alone on a slower
day we're doing 48 briskets, you know.
That took 24 cows, there's
only two briskets per cow.
You know, we're doing 60 racks
of pork ribs, that's 30 pigs.
So we've already harvested
and cooked 24 cows, you know,
and 30 pigs
just for what we do.
I don't know, it sounds kind of
corny, but I think about that, you know.
I want to show that animal as much
respect as I can in the preparation of it,
and I don't take that lightly
at all. I really don't.
My father was very prideful
of what he did.
He put out absolutely the best
that he could every single day.
I think that we owe it to him
to do the exact same thing.
It seems to be etched
into our DNA.
We all gravitate to it in a
way that is very predictable.
There's fire, there's meat,
there's people gathering around.
Everyone understands barbecue, everyone
feels that this is just a part of their life.
It's inseparable.
Such as air and water.
It's that much of a common
fabric in the life of Texans.
All around the world barbecue
becomes something more than just food.
It becomes an event,
and it's just...
It's a homecoming
to a lot of people.
It means community
is what barbecue means,
and there's a community of
us that are still keeping it alive.
What we're doing is, we're putting
as much love into this as we can.
You know, and we're...
I'm trying to show
the gratitude I have
to the people that
I've learned it from,
and a gratitude to the ones
that they learned it from.
If we keep this
tradition going,
we're not losing touch
with our ancestors,
we're not losing touch
with, you know,
the people whose shoulders
we're standing on to be here.
The mezcal process starts when
you sow the "maguey" ' plant.
The plant needs to be
of good quality stock,
and it takes five years
for the plant to mature.
Fire is important
because when it is cooked,
or "baked,"
the fire is what brings
the flavor, the sweetness
to the mezcal process.
Once it's here, the cooking
process lasts five days.
After five days,
it's taken out,
and it's left to mature for eight
days, depending on the weather.
I started producing mezcal
as a worker
when I was 15,
almost 16 years old.
I studied, and in my free time,
I went to work.
That's how I learned it.
Now I'm 20, almost 21,
and I have been working
for almost five years.
When the work is finished,
and I taste the mezcal,
I say the work was done well,
the product is good.
And I like when people taste it
and say, "this is really good mezcal!,"
and I say, "that's good,
I have learned."
Without fire, the production
of mezcal is not possible.
The same goes for
other food in Oaxaca.
Fire is
an essential part of it.
This business I inherited,
comes from my grandfather.
He taught me
from when I was young.
Then I started helping him out.
It is a family business,
a family affair.
My grandpa's such a hard working
person. He puts in all his energy.
Work was scant, but
he did it with all his heart.
While I was learning,
we made a living.
He sent me to school. In my
case, I finished secondary school.
I had the dream to continue studying,
to study Tourism Management.
To learn about the different
dishes of a restaurant.
That was my dream.
But unfortunately, that was not
possible, due to lack of money.
God gives me ideas.
Sometimes I have those.
I am the main person here,
organizing my siblings,
and things come to my mind,
on how to do things, telling
someone, "you, you do this!"
Because I think I have a
special talent that God gave me,
organizing everybody.
In daylight, it's easy to work.
But at night?
Not just anybody can do it.
Sleep is treacherous.
You may have worked
the whole night,
but what really matters
is when a new day dawns.
When you go to the market,
night after night,
all that matters is the final
result of a job well done.
To be able to make a profit,
selling this food.
PARENTS ARE THE PILLARS
OF A CHILD'S EDUCATION
Now I am on this,
I am going to say some words
for all women who are
going to watch this.
I am going to send
a message for all...
all who are in the world, now
that I can come out and say it here.
I tell you, anything that
you are going through,
any test in life, any difficult
situation you are going through,
only be strong.
Grasp the hand of God.
Keep going and make your kids
the engine of your life.
Never give up.
Push with all your might,
and you will persevere.
So that your kids
don't lack anything.
Think about them, always.
And doors will open for you.
You'll always have
something to eat
and always do good,
without a doubt,
and you will grow
while you live on this earth.
We've got goat barbacoa, soup,
tacos. What can we get you?
Barbacoa, soup, tacos.
Come, have a seat.
If you don't know
where you come from,
you don't know
where you are going.
You are lost.
You become a lost tribe,
you become a lost person,
you become of no consequence,
you become lonely.
You are likened to the wind,
that blows aimlessly.
The marae is a place for me
to say "I am Mori."
"I am Mori, you are Mori." It is
a place where you can stand proud
on your land and say,
"This is me."
For us, it means home.
It's a home for us.
So, you know, no matter where you go
in the world, you know you've got a home.
So this is what the land
means to us, it's everything.
And it's one way
to strengthen ourselves,
and an opportunity to come home
and have family sessions, learning.
And letting our children, our
offspring know their history,
and part of our culture.
How many fellas does it take
to tie down a trailer?
There's craploads
of work needed
to put on a successful hngi.
So many logistical things that
are part of a successful hngi.
From collecting the firewood,
to fetching the stones,
to getting the iron baskets,
to getting
and preparing the food.
There's craploads of work!
It's the hole for the hngi.
I know!
Okay, one more bit.
Sweet! Okay, hop out.
Not yet, not yet!
Not that one.
Gotta put the big one on first.
When you lay your wood out,
the bigger logs must be
placed on the outside,
while the smaller logs
are placed on the inside.
Just like that.
And the logs are criss-crossed,
right up until you have
approximately seven layers.
Once that is completed, the stones
and irons are placed on top of the wood.
Once the setup is complete,
you then light it.
Wrap it around.
Bubba, come out of the smoke.
My great grandma, they used to
do the hngi, the ladies used to...
Our nannies, I can remember my
nana, with the baby tied around her,
and they were tending
to the hngi.
I think in the older days,
with our grandparents,
they always had to be
prepared for enemy.
And they didn't eat sitting,
if I'm right.
My grandmother always
told us that...
"We didn't sit to eat,
we went down on our haunches, ready
to attack if anything was to happen."
So today the men
don't have to do that,
they just sat there
and chatted.
So the women turned around
and told them, "Okay, your turn!"
So they took over,
and the women went inside, hmm.
Maybe we're lucky,
we got out of it!
Ah, very good.
Yes. Thank you.
When the call is made
that the stones are ready,
the fire is down,
and the food is ready,
then the real work begins!
Your eyebrows get singed,
your skin gets burned,
your hands get scorched.
The rubber on your boots melts
for those wearing gumboots.
Sweat pours from your face,
your back aches.
And I liken it
to our ancestor Mui.
Mui who slowed the sun.
Mui who beat the sun so that
the sun would slow down in the sky.
And that work is damn hard.
Oh, that's...
That's trouble!
From the strength
of the waves,
the roughness of the sea,
to the calm,
that's how I see
this part of the hngi.
When that hard work,
that difficult work is done,
the seas are calmed,
meaning that the workers
can now begin to relax.
It wouldn't fit
on this fella's towball,
because he had
a bigger towball.
And it wouldn't fit over.
The rule of the hngi
once it is in the ground is,
if everything is all good,
and your hngi is in the
ground, the only thing left
is to have good thoughts,
to have good thoughts,
to say good things,
not to say any bad words
in or around the hngi.
To encourage laughter,
so that it generates a good
spirit and a good feeling
which I believe positively
affects the outcome of the hngi.
Getting cheeky
to each other is...
Yeah, it's just
getting cheeky...
Life's too short
not to get cheeky.
Um we, we, we...
When we die,
we're in the ground forever.
You know, we're alive now,
so make it worthwhile.
Lovely.
My delight in watching
our grandchildren
tending to the hngi...
makes my heart sing and soar.
Because they are
the next ones to take over
when we are gone.
That is the legacy that Tranga
has left for us, and future generations.
That's our ancestor, and
that was one of his dreams.
That you bequeath your knowledge,
your education, your wisdom, to them.
And in time,
they will follow suit,
and pass knowledge
to their future generations.
Who knows
what the future holds?
Who knows where the
Mori world will be, or look like
in the next 20, 50, 100 years.
Who knows what will happen?
What is my contribution
to my people?
What is my contribution
to my tribe?
I ask myself,
"What is my gift to the world?"
That is indeed my question,
"What is my gift to the world?"
I've found that fire.
When you really think
about it...
it is something
that brings people together.
At night it gets cold and dark.
If the fire is small
it's hard to get warm,
but the bigger the fire is,
the warmer it is.
So fire makes people
huddle around,
to talk and tell stories.
The glow of the flames
draws people in,
bringing them closer together.
I must say,
I think South Africans
are the best braaiers.
I think we are on top in
the world when it comes to
putting the best meat
on the table for our friends
at the end of the day.
Listen,
when I started working,
they didn't even
have computers.
Braai in South Africa,
first and foremost,
is about good conversation.
Secondly, about very good meat.
Thirdly about
lots of voggies.
But even just to get together
and be merry.
That's, obviously, what it's
really about at the end of the day.
To have a lekker time.
Lekker is lekker,
that's all there is to it.
That's what it means,
it's lekker to visit your
friends, or this food is lekker.
Braai is lekker,
because we drink!
Go!
Yes!
Townships were first built
around the 1950s.
It was a way of segregating
black people from white people.
As time went by,
and freedom arrived,
townships changed, and have become
a place where black people can have fun.
Barbecuing is something that black
people and white people have always done.
Barbecuing used to be something
you did just for fun.
Now it is something people
can make a business out of.
I found this place
and cleaned it up by myself.
Before me, it was a dump.
There was dirt,
rubbish and diapers.
But I saw it as a spot
where I could work.
I started with
rusted corrugated iron.
And people thought,
"What good can come from here?"
I want people to see that you can
always find a way to make a living.
They must know that God gave
them hands, a brain and ears.
And when He gave you these
things, it wasn't for someone else.
You can't give your hands
away like a spade, or a fork.
You need to work for yourself.
It's lekker.
It's primal.
The fact that you're standing around
a fire, braaiing a raw piece of meat.
What I really like about
organizing a big braai
is the opportunity
to meet new people.
People are
not necessarily friends
and they don't necessarily
stay friends
but they can interact.
Unfortunately, growing up
with an Afrikaans upbringing...
I was 18 years old towards
the end of the Apartheid.
I was raised to fear
black South Africans.
Um, although
it wasn't intentional,
we were all raised with this idea that it
was dangerous to know black people.
Everyone treated black people
as if they were inferior,
um, as if they couldn't do the
same things that white people did.
Um, which is unfortunate,
because as children, you're easily
influenced in the way you think.
Obviously, when you're a
teenager, you start to think differently.
Luckily for me,
things started changing.
You make up your own mind,
and you start to figure out
that people are just people.
Every person has the right to be
who they are, and to be respected.
Every person has a story about
who they are, or how they behave.
Respect for who people are,
understanding where
they come from,
makes it easier
for people to get along.
To give people a chance
to be who they are,
free of any judgment.
It's a cyclical lifestyle.
One's own state of living...
is cyclical.
That's what I wanted to obtain.
Since coming here,
what is really
important for living
and the ability
to live without excess...
That has become
clearer and clearer...
to me.
Every leaf is its own god.
Every tree is a god.
The mountain itself is a god.
With that in mind,
I receive the trees
from the mountain.
I give them my best regards
and ask that I am not
injured by them.
And then I do my work.
There was an article in some
magazine about the charcoal maker here
and I wanted
to see it in reality.
So I came and visited.
And I made the decision
right there
that this was the place.
I was in pursuit of beauty,
and of functionality.
We cut down the wood
and prepare it.
Then we put the wood
into the kiln and seal it up.
After, underneath the kiln, there's
something called a "kogama."
We start the fire there.
Inside it is like a roast.
Then we leave it,
for about a month.
During that time, the raw wood
above almost completely dries out.
The raw wood is inherently
flammable, of course.
So when it reaches
a certain temperature,
the heat breaks it down
and it turns to carbon.
This white charcoal
is called "binchotan."
Saying "I enjoy, playing
with fire" sounds strange...
but I do enjoy cooking
with a flame.
At some point, I just became
crazy about cooking yakitori
and I've now been doing it
for 32 years. Hmm.
I just know that I enjoy
raising the temperature.
The hotter the flame, the
more delicious the yakitori.
So I want to use
a quality binchotan.
Would you call it a fight?
Yeah, it's a fight.
The temperature must be high.
To achieve this high
temperature, you must let in air.
You need lots of air.
Grilling is a simple task,
but your timing
has to be spot on.
Perfecting it is truly difficult,
and it takes a long time.
Put simply, yakitori is
anything pierced onto a skewer.
It's a very simple food.
But the heat at which
you cook is the thing.
By adding sake, you draw
out the sweetness and umami.
I believe it's the most simple,
but also most profound food.
With tebasaki,
or chicken wings,
the skin must be crispy.
The oil between the skin
and the meat is delicious.
So, if the temperature is low,
the oil runs off.
And if the temperature is high,
it becomes crispy.
But if you add sake,
it turns a beautiful color.
And to get that crispy,
juicy meat,
you have to use
binchotan and sake.
With breast meat
it's a part without much oil.
So after cooking,
you add soy sauce and wasabi.
As for the innards, they're
quite an acquired taste.
So with things like liver, I coat it
with tare sauce before cooking.
It's also very easy to eat
with karashi mustard.
Yakitori is a food brimming
with creativity.
You can have very cheap
yakitori restaurants,
and you can have this kind of
fine-dining restaurant.
You can have cheap
yakitori places in an alleyway
or you can make it into a dining
restaurant in New York, London, or Paris.
With yakitori, people connect,
it's a friendly feeling.
You can say,
"lets go to yakitori,"
and just go casually down
to the restaurant.
It doesn't matter
if it's expensive or not.
It's a friendly atmosphere, and you
can chat about absolutely anything.
Yakitori is definitely
something that's for the people.
Perhaps it's something primal.
Using flames to grill meat,
and all eating together.
It's something our ancestors
might have done.
I wonder
if we have that in our DNA.
Cooking the meat you caught
on an open fire, all eating together.
It's along the same lines.
Using fire to cook meat is
perhaps something only humans do.
That may well be the
beginning of the human race.
That's something special.
I've never really
thought of it before,
but talking about it now,
that's what I think.
Hard work, huh?
I was brought up
in the country,
I was brought up in Mount
Barker, when it was a country town.
And I went to the city for
that particular period of my life.
Managed to get on all right.
Made a lot of money
through the city.
Had my own business
and all that sort of stuff.
At the end of the day, the city
wasn't my cup of tea, so I left.
I had many, many
good times in the city
and I also had
lot of hard times in the city.
But to me, the city's
dead and gone.
I had my time there,
I've come back here...
Country's me.
Well, here we've got no
traffic lights for a start off.
Got some really good
mates here.
Everybody knows everybody.
You can't even go down the
street without someone waving
or saying "G'day" to you,
you know.
You know, I like taking
something old
and making it new again.
It's a joy!
You come across something that's
absolutely pretty well stuffed and fucked,
and you turn around and
you completely refurnish it.
Then you look at that product, and
you go, "Fuck me drunk, I did that!"
You ain't going to get any
better self satisfaction than that.
I've been a pub man
all my life.
And I'll probably die
being a pub man.
Some pubs you can go into
and you get ignored,
and you get snubbed off
and all that sort of shit.
Not the Corny.
You know, everyone's got a smile on
their dial, "G'day, how're you going?"
Whether you're a stranger
or not a bloody stranger,
you know, you say,
"G'day" to everybody.
All right,
and that's a country pub.
You greet people
with friendship,
you're going
to get friendship back.
You treat 'em with agro,
you're going to get agro back.
Friendship's
the better way to go.
And that's
the Corny Hotel to me.
Because we all kick back,
all crack a joke, you know.
Some clean, some dirty.
Not many clean ones,
a lot of dirty ones...
But we still have
a good time, you know.
And that's what it's all about, having
some fun, kick a barbecue in the guts.
It's probably the only pub
in Australia that ever does it.
They put it on every Saturday and
every Sunday, you know, for us patrons.
And to those who turn up,
have a good morning.
They get nice cold beer, the pub
gets supported, and they're getting fed.
Yeah, it is easy.
Until someone changes the
program and puts some bloody kebabs
or something stupid
like that on, you know,
that you don't know
how to cook.
That throws the whole barbecue
right out of line.
Chops, sausages, googie eggs,
a bit of onion,
and bread and butter,
salt and pepper, dead horse.
That's it. That's the barbecue.
I'd like to see salmon patties on
there, but no one's done that yet.
Nah, just bacon, eggs, snags.
Just your basic shit.
That's what a barbecue is.
It's not like putting
a hangi down,
where you've got to spend
hours and hours.
Barbecue, you should be able
to start it up, crank it up.
Over and done with
in half an hour,
everybody's sitting down
having a feed.
As long as you've got
someone decent cooking!
Hey...
Hey, how are you?
G'day, Stewy!
It's not so much the tucker.
The tucker's nice, yeah.
It's the atmosphere that
stands around the barbecue.
You've got people
talking to people.
You have women talking to
women, blokes talking to blokes,
you've got blokes talking
to women.
How many marriages have been
made at a barbecue?
And where people have met?
Yeah, it's friendship.
It's friendship.
That's what barbecues do.
That's what they do to people,
they bring 'em together.
You meet 'em, you say, "G'day."
If a friendship forms,
it forms.
If it doesn't form, you tell 'em to get
fucked and send them on their bike.
That's the way it is.
That's a barbecue.
It brings people together.
All right?
Well, that's,
that's my opinion.
Countryside living
generally is really nice.
Maybe because
it's our ancestral land.
My grandfathers, my father,
lived here.
Everything is wide open.
It's an open steppe grassland,
where everything is calm.
If you speak in current trends, then
there is no stress, and it's very serene.
Even your mind
is much more relaxed.
In the city, it's different.
There's more pressure.
You have to do this,
you have to do that.
Here, your main responsibility
is herding animals.
There's not much else
to worry about.
The legend of
the marmot is that,
the marmot promised he'd
never drink water, or eat grass,
would never go out in the dark,
would stay in his hole,
and in order to keep his
promise, he cut off his thumb.
I used to kill the marmot,
and sell the fur and meat,
in order to survive.
But now I hear the number
of marmot is diminishing.
So this is why they've
prohibited the hunting of marmot.
Firstly, you put two hot stones
into the rear legs,
and a big stone in the butt.
Then you put some meat,
then two or three stones,
then more meat, and
more stones, until it's full.
Last time we used a sharp stone,
it poked a hole through the skin.
Usually, we use
a very rounded stone.
You open it up,
sit down together, and eat.
Coming here from far away,
finding a wife, having three
beautiful children.
It really is the happiest
thing in my life.
Personally, I've never made
goat boodog on my own,
but I think it will be okay.
I will make it tomorrow.
Get it in the legs,
in the legs!
Keep those tongs away from me!
Because you all gather,
sit down and enjoy
the boodog together,
the meat tastes better.
The main pleasure of the meal
comes from eating it
and sharing it together
as a whole family,
because you laugh,
and smile, and talk.
That's the pleasure of
sharing it with your family.
I am very proud
that I am Mongolian.
Our ancestors said
that we have ties to the sky.
So I am really proud
that I am a Mongolian.
If there is such a thing
as being reborn,
I'd like to be born
as a Mongolian again.
Like this.
It becomes an extreme...
form of depression
when it's very cold
for a long period.
You get tired, and feel down.
You don't have the happiness
and willingness to do stuff,
create stuff, be creative.
You get bunkered in,
just laying around watching TV.
And the very second
the sun starts shining,
there's some kind of
euphoria in people.
And in some way,
you have to go out,
you have to do stuff outside.
You have to take the
opportunity to experience the sun,
the warmth, for as long
as you have it.
You have to fill up
on sunlight,
so that you have the memory
of it for the rest of the year.
So, really when summer's near,
the engangsgrill
becomes hard currency.
The engangsgrill is practical.
It's a small box
in which you have coal,
and it comes with
a flammable piece of paper.
So it's a complete grill set
which is ready to be used.
It's very easy to engangsgrill,
maybe that's why you do it.
It's a bit like the industrial
revolution in a tin foil package.
You rip off
the plastic wrapper,
take out a match,
and wait for 20 minutes.
And when the glow is grey,
you can start grilling.
It's like a self-mounting tent,
or a self-inflating pool bed.
It's ready to go.
It's that
"ready-to-go" concept.
Just light it in that corner.
Everyone grills.
There isn't really
a certain personality
that makes you grill,
or not grill.
However, when you're
in a group,
there are
different personalities
and usually there will be one person
who takes charge, who is the driving force.
And in my case, I don't know.
Sometimes you become
that driving force,
to make sure things get done.
I don't think that there is
anywhere in the whole world
where you can find such
sun-sick people as in Sweden.
So when the sun comes out
after six months of absence,
people are running
out of their houses,
just to get some sun
on their face.
There's a certain vibe
from sitting outside
all night long.
Until the sun rises
extremely early,
and it kind of gets romantic, in
a way that only exists in summer.
Swedes are innovative
and creative people,
like Ikea,
and that whole thing.
The only problem with it is,
that you can't really regulate
the coal and the heat,
so when it goes out,
you're fucked.
Us men are like whisky, which
gets better with age, so to say.
But my life right now,
I feel like I'm on my way
to being an adult.
But not adult enough
to buy my own barbecue.
I'm incredibly fortunate
to be able to do what I want,
to live in a really great
country and have a good start,
and to have
those possibilities.
...use this place either
as buyers or sellers
that are respecting justice and
trying to consider themselves
as working for the common good.
To find joy in contributing to
the progress of the earthly city.
We ask this through
Christ, our Lord.
Our Father, who art in heaven.
Holy be your name...
When I first killed a pig,
it was not easy.
When I cut the pig's throat,
it did not die quickly.
At first it was a big struggle,
but now I can kill it easily.
You put the pig in a barrel with
boiling water, and shave off its hair.
Then you cut the pig
down the middle,
and take out
its internal organs.
You put it on the pole,
then put in the spices.
After that, you put it over
the coals, and start rolling.
I am only concentrating
on my work.
My only concern is that
it will be cooked on time.
I don't think of other things.
Only my work, because that
is what's important.
I learnt how to cook it
by watching others.
I put it in my brain,
to learn it.
And now, I've been doing it
for 30 years.
For the skin to be crispy,
the first step is...
The coals should be just right.
The crispiness is
because the heat is right.
If the heat does not reach
the other parts of the lechon,
it will not be crispy,
and the skin will be rubbery.
When you stop turning it,
it will burn.
You keep rolling,
so it cooks evenly.
When I cook the lechon,
I don't need to eat,
I'm already satisfied
with the smell.
I feel full.
So I'll just drink water.
I'm happy as long
as there's water.
I seldom go to church,
but I always pray.
I pray to God for good health,
more business,
and that my children and my
grandchildren will not be sick.
That's all I ask from God.
Good health always.
When eating lechon,
the first taste test
is the skin.
If I keep licking my fingers,
it means it's good lechon.
But if it's not tasty,
I won't eat any more.
If it doesn't taste right,
why bother licking my fingers!
The best lechon is in Cebu.
Outsiders who come to Cebu,
they always want to taste the lechon.
The best lechon
is made in Cebu.
Cooking with heart,
that's how I do it.
When I cook lechon,
I cook it wholeheartedly.
That's what I can give
to my customers.
It is a spiritual environment
for each of us,
where different conversations
are held.
The asado calls us
and reunites us.
I believe that is the thing, the
essence of the Uruguayan asado.
For all Uruguayans, the
theme of the asado is the same.
From a very young age, let's
say from when you're a baby,
you're already experiencing
asados, because it's a tradition
from many years ago,
from our ancestors.
We maintain this.
And we still do it
almost every day.
Uruguay's greatest wealth,
undoubtedly, is its agriculture
and its beef.
Above everything else,
the beef.
I don't know if it's
because I'm Uruguayan,
but I find the asado's meat
so tasty.
I love it.
I love doing asado. I love it!
I love it.
There's nothing tastier
than an asado,
and for me, I'll never say
no to an asado.
Whenever I'm invited to an
asado or put one on myself,
I love it.
Here, life happens
in a more tranquil way.
Everyone knows each other.
We experience and enjoy the beautiful
moments that happen in our town.
To be an Armenian...
Well... how to describe that? You
have to be an Armenian to know that.
Hard working,
joyful, hospitable.
A people who have
suffered in the past.
This is what it means
to be an Armenian.
Always emigrating.
We have always been
made to change our home.
We are few,
but we are Armenians!
And there isn't a country in the
world that doesn't have Armenians!
When you make a fire, and put
children of different nationalities around,
you can guess
which one is the Armenian.
If everyone is sitting still,
the Armenian will be
playing with the fire.
We are all said to be fiery.
We have the phrase,
"fiery Armenian."
The Armenian's horse
is a fiery horse.
The Armenian soul
is fire and flames.
I have loved sculpture
since childhood.
You have to be in a good mood
to make a sculpture.
If you are angry,
you can't make a sculpture.
Making khorovats is an art too.
You have to be eager, put your soul
into it, to make the khorovats tasty.
The interesting thing is, you
make it with your own hands,
and then you enjoy it.
That's the best thing, that you
make it with your own hands
and put your soul into it.
And then enjoy it with
your friends and family.
People that are close to you.
Come here, my little one!
Is it ready?
Leave it a little longer.
Generally, everyone else wants
to do the khorovats themselves,
or at least give you advice...
Like, "you'll burn it," "turn it
faster," "you don't know how to do it."
But I'll say it again,
one person should do it.
The most important thing is that you
have to have vodka by the khorovats.
Just before it's ready,
when you first sample
the khorovats,
you drink by the fire
with your friends,
and that is the most enjoyable
and tastiest moment.
I was very naughty as a child!
When I was a child,
I was very naughty.
My father used to do
khorovats a lot,
because we always had
people coming over.
I remember this
from a young age.
Now I do it myself.
I learnt from watching
how my father did it.
I've now done it
many, many times.
And it turns out well!
It's something that you
pass from one to another
because one can't
learn it all at once.
Even a builder does not learn
to build a wall instantly.
Someone has to teach him.
Like all craftsmen,
everyone has their secrets.
The secret... Well, usually,
you don't give out the secrets.
The secret is in your hand.
Even if the recipe is the same,
it's the hand of the one who
makes it that matters in the end.
Everybody's hand
has its own taste,
and as such,
you get different results.
The motherland is one of the
most valuable things there is.
It's your parents,
it's your kids,
it's one of the very, very
best things you have.
It is irreplaceable.
It's not something
that you can explain.
You are connected
to your motherland
with your soul, with your body,
with your subconscious.
Motherland is the same
as your family.
This earth gave birth to you,
fed you. Your roots are here.
No, I reject this idea
of abandoning my country.
Every day in our village,
there were bombs
from the ground or the air.
We had children
and old people,
so we had to leave.
When we came to the camp,
it was just tents,
and desert.
We had everything.
We moved to
a very, very bad life.
Usually you move
to a better life!
We came to a desert.
Limited water, no electricity.
No freedom.
You can't leave the camp.
You can only live on the coupons
you receive from the United Nations.
You have to find
another income.
Most of the people living in
the camp have to create one.
This restaurant
is considered...
one of the first in the camp.
It was the first shawarma
and falafel restaurant.
I really like shawarma a lot.
Not just the taste, I like to
work with it, and practice a lot.
It's a trade I truly enjoy.
I learned it in Syria, at a restaurant
I worked in for seven years.
I established my life
when I came here.
I organized my life.
I never thought
I'd have work here.
Or that I could continue
my trade here, my life here.
For sure, it has lots of
spices, too many to name.
You must learn the spices
you work with.
Nobody in the camp
knows the mixture that I make.
I am the first to use this
mixture, it's very tasty.
Syrians like shawarma.
Most Syrians, particularly
those from Hauran living here
have shawarma
almost every day.
We care about
the type of meat we use.
It must be first class.
The spices also.
And then there's also
our shawarma chef.
Good customer service
brings people in.
If you don't deal with people
nicely, they will never come back.
For me,
I want to return home.
Things here will go on
forever. Home would be better.
Because you grew up there
and every human being
wants to be in their home.
They don't want to be
away in another country.
In my case, if I go back
to my home country,
every person, Allah willing,
every Syrian will go back to their
home, and live life happily again.
I want to be happy,
with my family
and open my own restaurant,
and organize myself.
Allah willing, if the bombing
eases or stops,
all of us will return home.
As a human, you have to go back
to your homeland,
to where you grew up,
to your past, to your land.
You have to go back
for the sake of your children.
There is no future
for the children here.
Coming from somewhat
from outside of Texas...
Of course they're going to think,
you know, rodeo, maybe cowboy boots.
Everyone carries a gun
in their pickup truck,
and wears a cowboy hat and
goes to church on Sunday and...
You know, all of those idyllic romantic
Texas things and there is a lot of that!
There's a pride about Texas,
there's the reason why a
mockingbird is our state bird.
He's the one who sits
in the top of the tree
and is loudest
above all others, you know?
I think a lot of people when they
eat barbecue, they're kind of...
it takes them back
to a different time or memory
or a story from a grandparent.
You have these joints
that are 50, 100 years old.
And you have new joints that...
You know, a lot of them are inspired
by these pitmasters of times past.
Barbecuing in
an open pit flame
or any kind of fire
goes back to cowboy days.
It goes back, you know,
to the beginning of mankind.
They had to cook their food,
so they had to make a fire.
It's just that we're still
cooking that way.
So it's usually a dry rub
with no sauce,
cooked over post oak.
We call it an indirect
heat style of cooking.
And that's where there'll be a fire
box at one end of the cooking pit
and a chimney at the other.
And so the chimney pulls the
heat and the smoke over the meat.
We work hard, we play hard.
We do everything
in a very big way
and barbecue is
another one of those things.
It's very big. It makes
a statement. It's bold.
Texans are just that way.
To my way of thinking,
hands on cooking is...
my way to fly.
You have to drink
the Kool-Aid to do this.
There's just no other way
around it.
It's a difficult job,
it's a harder life.
But it has to be
a labor of love.
And if you're not in it
for the right reasons,
it'll shorten your life span,
I think.
I don't know many people
who want to get up
at two o'clock
in the morning
just to come to work
and, you know, grind it out for
ten or 12 hours, and then go home.
Somebody's got to
light the fire,
somebody's got to
get the meat out,
they've got to season it,
they've got to cut it,
make sure it's on the pit, and
make sure it's cooked right...
and that takes a lot of hours,
and a lot of talent.
In April,
I will be 81 years old
and I really don't
feel like my age.
I don't worry about hard work.
I enjoy work. I'm a workaholic.
Uh, it's hot in the summer
time, it's cold in the winter time,
but I enjoy it
so I keep cooking.
Our method is real basic,
a very simple seasoning and a lot of
tender loving care in the cooking process.
You know, Ms. Tootsie's been
doing this for, you know, 40 plus years.
A lot of what we do is based off
of what she's done for many years.
Well, just here
in Central Texas,
I mean, that's all we know
is barbecue.
Long and slow is the secret,
I think to brisket
'cause it is
a tough cut of meat.
It's a stringy cut of meat,
so you have to be careful not
to overcook it or cook it too fast.
So it takes a lot of
tender loving care with it.
We live in the greatest country
in the world today,
and that gives us the right to choose
what we do on a Saturday night.
And I don't care what they
tell you in Washington D.C.
Because no man sitting behind
the desk in the Oval Office
in 2016 has given
us that right.
It is those brave men and women
that have raised their right hand.
They've sworn to defend the Constitution
of the United States of America,
against all enemies,
foreign and domestic...
When Edgar and I took over
the restaurant, we had a sign up.
At one side,
it said "Colored Only,"
and then the other
was for whites.
And Edgar and I decided
that was not right,
we just did not
like that at all.
And so, we were going to
take the sign down and we did!
And we had some of our
customers say,
"Well, we'll never be back
to your restaurant!"
And he says, "Well, I'm sorry
you feel that way,
but this is the way
it needs to be."
We just thought it was
something that needed to be done.
And we wanted to be
a part of trying to get it
to where we felt like
all people should be equal.
So I guess it was just
something that he and I
really felt deep in our hearts,
that needed to be done.
In life, the only way you're going to
get ahead is that you gotta work for it.
You know, nobody's just going
to just drop something in your lap.
I mean, you've just got to get out
there and, as my dad would say, "hustle."
"Got that hustle!"
I had visions
of becoming a doctor.
We have several doctors
in my family,
and I wanted to be
an orthopedic specialist.
It so happened my father
became ill
the summer before I
graduated from college so...
my dad's dying wish
was to keep the business open.
So, I'm still here.
And it's been good.
I have no complaints.
I feel like, you know, God
plays a role in our lives
and I think this was something He
thought that I was probably better at
than being a doctor,
so there it is.
There's a lot for respect for the animal
that gave his life for what we're doing.
And there's not a day that goes by that I
don't think about the amount of animals
it took for us to serve
our menu for the day.
I mean, today alone on a slower
day we're doing 48 briskets, you know.
That took 24 cows, there's
only two briskets per cow.
You know, we're doing 60 racks
of pork ribs, that's 30 pigs.
So we've already harvested
and cooked 24 cows, you know,
and 30 pigs
just for what we do.
I don't know, it sounds kind of
corny, but I think about that, you know.
I want to show that animal as much
respect as I can in the preparation of it,
and I don't take that lightly
at all. I really don't.
My father was very prideful
of what he did.
He put out absolutely the best
that he could every single day.
I think that we owe it to him
to do the exact same thing.
It seems to be etched
into our DNA.
We all gravitate to it in a
way that is very predictable.
There's fire, there's meat,
there's people gathering around.
Everyone understands barbecue, everyone
feels that this is just a part of their life.
It's inseparable.
Such as air and water.
It's that much of a common
fabric in the life of Texans.
All around the world barbecue
becomes something more than just food.
It becomes an event,
and it's just...
It's a homecoming
to a lot of people.
It means community
is what barbecue means,
and there's a community of
us that are still keeping it alive.
What we're doing is, we're putting
as much love into this as we can.
You know, and we're...
I'm trying to show
the gratitude I have
to the people that
I've learned it from,
and a gratitude to the ones
that they learned it from.
If we keep this
tradition going,
we're not losing touch
with our ancestors,
we're not losing touch
with, you know,
the people whose shoulders
we're standing on to be here.
The mezcal process starts when
you sow the "maguey" ' plant.
The plant needs to be
of good quality stock,
and it takes five years
for the plant to mature.
Fire is important
because when it is cooked,
or "baked,"
the fire is what brings
the flavor, the sweetness
to the mezcal process.
Once it's here, the cooking
process lasts five days.
After five days,
it's taken out,
and it's left to mature for eight
days, depending on the weather.
I started producing mezcal
as a worker
when I was 15,
almost 16 years old.
I studied, and in my free time,
I went to work.
That's how I learned it.
Now I'm 20, almost 21,
and I have been working
for almost five years.
When the work is finished,
and I taste the mezcal,
I say the work was done well,
the product is good.
And I like when people taste it
and say, "this is really good mezcal!,"
and I say, "that's good,
I have learned."
Without fire, the production
of mezcal is not possible.
The same goes for
other food in Oaxaca.
Fire is
an essential part of it.
This business I inherited,
comes from my grandfather.
He taught me
from when I was young.
Then I started helping him out.
It is a family business,
a family affair.
My grandpa's such a hard working
person. He puts in all his energy.
Work was scant, but
he did it with all his heart.
While I was learning,
we made a living.
He sent me to school. In my
case, I finished secondary school.
I had the dream to continue studying,
to study Tourism Management.
To learn about the different
dishes of a restaurant.
That was my dream.
But unfortunately, that was not
possible, due to lack of money.
God gives me ideas.
Sometimes I have those.
I am the main person here,
organizing my siblings,
and things come to my mind,
on how to do things, telling
someone, "you, you do this!"
Because I think I have a
special talent that God gave me,
organizing everybody.
In daylight, it's easy to work.
But at night?
Not just anybody can do it.
Sleep is treacherous.
You may have worked
the whole night,
but what really matters
is when a new day dawns.
When you go to the market,
night after night,
all that matters is the final
result of a job well done.
To be able to make a profit,
selling this food.
PARENTS ARE THE PILLARS
OF A CHILD'S EDUCATION
Now I am on this,
I am going to say some words
for all women who are
going to watch this.
I am going to send
a message for all...
all who are in the world, now
that I can come out and say it here.
I tell you, anything that
you are going through,
any test in life, any difficult
situation you are going through,
only be strong.
Grasp the hand of God.
Keep going and make your kids
the engine of your life.
Never give up.
Push with all your might,
and you will persevere.
So that your kids
don't lack anything.
Think about them, always.
And doors will open for you.
You'll always have
something to eat
and always do good,
without a doubt,
and you will grow
while you live on this earth.
We've got goat barbacoa, soup,
tacos. What can we get you?
Barbacoa, soup, tacos.
Come, have a seat.
If you don't know
where you come from,
you don't know
where you are going.
You are lost.
You become a lost tribe,
you become a lost person,
you become of no consequence,
you become lonely.
You are likened to the wind,
that blows aimlessly.
The marae is a place for me
to say "I am Mori."
"I am Mori, you are Mori." It is
a place where you can stand proud
on your land and say,
"This is me."
For us, it means home.
It's a home for us.
So, you know, no matter where you go
in the world, you know you've got a home.
So this is what the land
means to us, it's everything.
And it's one way
to strengthen ourselves,
and an opportunity to come home
and have family sessions, learning.
And letting our children, our
offspring know their history,
and part of our culture.
How many fellas does it take
to tie down a trailer?
There's craploads
of work needed
to put on a successful hngi.
So many logistical things that
are part of a successful hngi.
From collecting the firewood,
to fetching the stones,
to getting the iron baskets,
to getting
and preparing the food.
There's craploads of work!
It's the hole for the hngi.
I know!
Okay, one more bit.
Sweet! Okay, hop out.
Not yet, not yet!
Not that one.
Gotta put the big one on first.
When you lay your wood out,
the bigger logs must be
placed on the outside,
while the smaller logs
are placed on the inside.
Just like that.
And the logs are criss-crossed,
right up until you have
approximately seven layers.
Once that is completed, the stones
and irons are placed on top of the wood.
Once the setup is complete,
you then light it.
Wrap it around.
Bubba, come out of the smoke.
My great grandma, they used to
do the hngi, the ladies used to...
Our nannies, I can remember my
nana, with the baby tied around her,
and they were tending
to the hngi.
I think in the older days,
with our grandparents,
they always had to be
prepared for enemy.
And they didn't eat sitting,
if I'm right.
My grandmother always
told us that...
"We didn't sit to eat,
we went down on our haunches, ready
to attack if anything was to happen."
So today the men
don't have to do that,
they just sat there
and chatted.
So the women turned around
and told them, "Okay, your turn!"
So they took over,
and the women went inside, hmm.
Maybe we're lucky,
we got out of it!
Ah, very good.
Yes. Thank you.
When the call is made
that the stones are ready,
the fire is down,
and the food is ready,
then the real work begins!
Your eyebrows get singed,
your skin gets burned,
your hands get scorched.
The rubber on your boots melts
for those wearing gumboots.
Sweat pours from your face,
your back aches.
And I liken it
to our ancestor Mui.
Mui who slowed the sun.
Mui who beat the sun so that
the sun would slow down in the sky.
And that work is damn hard.
Oh, that's...
That's trouble!
From the strength
of the waves,
the roughness of the sea,
to the calm,
that's how I see
this part of the hngi.
When that hard work,
that difficult work is done,
the seas are calmed,
meaning that the workers
can now begin to relax.
It wouldn't fit
on this fella's towball,
because he had
a bigger towball.
And it wouldn't fit over.
The rule of the hngi
once it is in the ground is,
if everything is all good,
and your hngi is in the
ground, the only thing left
is to have good thoughts,
to have good thoughts,
to say good things,
not to say any bad words
in or around the hngi.
To encourage laughter,
so that it generates a good
spirit and a good feeling
which I believe positively
affects the outcome of the hngi.
Getting cheeky
to each other is...
Yeah, it's just
getting cheeky...
Life's too short
not to get cheeky.
Um we, we, we...
When we die,
we're in the ground forever.
You know, we're alive now,
so make it worthwhile.
Lovely.
My delight in watching
our grandchildren
tending to the hngi...
makes my heart sing and soar.
Because they are
the next ones to take over
when we are gone.
That is the legacy that Tranga
has left for us, and future generations.
That's our ancestor, and
that was one of his dreams.
That you bequeath your knowledge,
your education, your wisdom, to them.
And in time,
they will follow suit,
and pass knowledge
to their future generations.
Who knows
what the future holds?
Who knows where the
Mori world will be, or look like
in the next 20, 50, 100 years.
Who knows what will happen?
What is my contribution
to my people?
What is my contribution
to my tribe?
I ask myself,
"What is my gift to the world?"
That is indeed my question,
"What is my gift to the world?"