Homemade Pastrami: My First Cure, a Bacteria Scare, and a Slice of Redemption
A buddy of mine texted me about scaling down a pastrami recipe — the beef he was using was smaller than the one in the video he'd watched. We went back and forth until we thought we had it dialed in. That was pretty much all I needed to hear. I love pastrami, and I love a reason to fire up the smoker. He told me the recipe came from a Meat Church video, and that was that — I was in.
I had a few things going on, so it was about a week later that I finally ordered supplies and picked up a brisket — right after a refrigerator door had unfortunately been left open all night so right back to the store to purchase another! I was ready to make my brine and start a 10-day cure. I figured I wouldn't need the full 10 days, since my brisket was about 10 lbs smaller than Matt Pittman's in the original recipe.
Subtle Foreshadowing
That open refrigerator door turned out to be foreshadowing I didn't clock at the time. Through the week I flipped the brisket twice — I'd weighed it down with a bag of water that, at some point, came open, which may have played into what happened next. On
day 5, I was heading out of town, so I flipped it once more and downsized it into a smaller container before I left. I used an EZ Dripper, since I already owned one — great for transporting liquid, but let's be honest, that's not really what it's designed for. I got everything moved over and set off for the weekend.
I got home around 11 that morning, and I don't know what made me want to check in on the cure right away. I'm glad I did.
Disclaimer: what I chose to do next was a gut call, and this was meat meant for public consumption. I'm not recommending anyone else do what I did — always follow proper food safety protocols.
The Scare
I opened the container and knew immediately something was off. What had started out looking like your run-of-the-mill pickling brine — the kind you'd see at any farmers market — had turned into a thick, pinkish, almost stringy, cloudy liquid. Like it was the inspiration for the 1980s version of The Blob. A telltale sign of bacterial growth. Confused and honestly a little pissed that this might be ruined, I froze for a second. Then I noticed something: I couldn't smell anything. Normally you'd expect a vinegar or ammonia smell with that kind of growth, and there wasn't one. So I decided — screw it, let's give it a bath and see what happens in a few hours.
I ran water and let it soak, checking back around 1. I pulled it out, dried it off, and gave it thirty minutes just sitting there so I could tell whether it turned slimy again or stayed tacky. About the same time, I started thinking seriously about firing up the smoker. It stayed tacky — firm, nothing falling apart. Now I was actually considering going for it. The recipe calls for air-drying in the fridge overnight before smoking, and I didn't have time for that. I'd already spent so much time waiting on this cure. Why not? By 2:30 — pretty late to be starting a smoke — I had the brisket seasoned and on the smoker.
The Long Night
I left it alone other than a spritz
— 50/50 beef stock and water — every couple of hours. Around 7 I checked the internal temp: 156°F. I came back at 7:45 and it had barely moved — 158°F. The stall, right on schedule. Rather than wrap it, I decided to let it ride a few more hours. When I checked again after 10, it was up around 164°F. That's when I foil-wrapped it with beef stock — chuckling to myself, thinking, I guess this is how I'll steam it — added a little more wood, and went to bed.
At 7 the next morning, I made my way downstairs to check the smoker. The smell of smoke and beef hit me before I even got there, and I knew it had to be done. The real question was whether it was overcooked — or worse, spoiled.
Thankfully, not overcooked. And as I unwrapped it, still no funky smell — just sweet Texas oak. I grabbed a cutting board and a knife and sliced off a few pieces. Pink. The cure had taken. Not the deep ruby color I was hoping for, but the real question was whether it had cured all the way through, or just at the edges.
I sliced it down the middle(not photoed) to check the penetration. Cured and smoked all the way through.
How did it taste? It needed salt, honestly — I think the water bag springing a leak during the cure messed with the brine ratio more than I realized, which probably affected the color too. Did I care? Not even a little. My first attempt was in the books, and I walked away with more lessons than I expected to learn from a single brisket.
What I'd Do Differently
Sanitize the container properly before the cure starts — I genuinely can't remember if I did this time, and that's on me.
Don't rely on a water-weighted bag to keep the brisket submerged — it leaked, and it's probably why the ratio (and the color) was off.
A downsized container mid-cure is a real risk if you're about to leave town for it unattended — plan the container size from day one instead.
If you ever question the quality of a protein you're working with, toss it. It's better to throw out a brisket than spend the night finding out the hard way that you shouldn't have eaten it.
The Recipe (As Scaled for a 14 lb Trimmed Brisket)
This is the base recipe — built off Matt Pittman's Meat Church pastrami video, before I scaled it down for my own brisket.
Brine (14 lb trimmed brisket) | Amount | Notes |
Water | 1 gallon | Snug, food-safe container |
Pickling spice | 2 cups | |
Brown sugar | 1.5 cups | |
Kosher salt | 1 cup | |
Prague Powder #1 | 2 tbsp | Not Himalayan pink salt |
Minced garlic | 2 tbsp | |
Rub | Amount | Notes |
Coarse black pepper | 2 tbsp | Season to preference |
Ground coriander | 2 tbsp | |
Paprika | 1 tbsp |
Cure for 7–10 days depending on weight, keeping the brisket fully submerged and refrigerated the entire time. Rinse completely after brining. Smoke at 250°F, wrap near 175°F internal, and pull around 205°F.
Want the calculator that scales this to your own brisket's weight? Email carbonandoakshop@gmail.com and I'll send it over.
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