Plov on the Big Green Egg: Smoke, Spice, and Sunday Zen

Last Sunday, I stepped away from uptime dashboards and server configs to embrace something far more primal: fire, cast iron, and the slow alchemy of plov. The Big Green Egg was my cauldron, and the backyard—my open-air kitchen.

🧅 The Foundation: Onions First

It all began with onions. Lots of them. Sliced into half-moons and tossed into a preheated cast iron Dutch oven set directly over the coals. The Big Green Egg held steady at around 400°F, its ceramic dome sealing in the heat like a vault. The onions softened, caramelized, and turned golden—laying the aromatic foundation for what was to come.

🥩 Enter the Lamb

Once the onions hit that perfect amber hue, in went the lamb—cubed, bone-in, and unapologetically fatty. The meat seared in the onion-infused oil, browning on all sides and releasing that unmistakable aroma that says, “Yes, this is going to be worth it.”

🥕 Carrots, Garlic, and Spice

Next came the carrots, cut thick for texture, followed by whole garlic cloves, cumin seeds, and a few dried barberries for a tart kick. The mixture simmered and sizzled, transforming into a rich, fragrant base.

🍚 The Rice Layer

With the meat and vegetables fully mingled, I added rinsed long-grain rice, spreading it evenly without stirring. Boiling water went in—just enough to cover the rice by a knuckle’s depth. A whole head of garlic was nestled in the center like a crown jewel. Then the lid came down.

🔥 The Egg Holds the Line

This is where the Big Green Egg earns its keep. With vents dialed in, it held a perfect simmer for nearly an hour. No peeking. Just the occasional whiff of cumin and smoke drifting through the backyard. I used the downtime to check my BetterStack dashboard—because even when I’m off-duty, my systems aren’t.

🍽️ The Reveal

When the lid finally lifted, the rice was fluffy, the lamb tender, and the bottom layer—crispy, golden, and glorious. That crust, the coveted “qazmaq,” was the first thing to disappear.

We ate outside, the sun setting over Eugene, the last curls of smoke rising into the evening air. There’s something deeply grounding about cooking this way—no automation, no shortcuts. Just fire, patience, and flavor.