You've probably experienced this before: Your buddy will buy a new grill and invite you over to experience it in all its overpriced glory. He'll drop some arbitrary number about how high he can crank the BTU's. He'll demonstrate the one-touch pilot lights. He'll do this thing where he'll lift up the lid real slow and then stand back for a moment so you can oooh and aaah. You're impressed, but all the while you're thinking, "Yup, but I bet you that your burgers won't taste a whole hell of a lot different than they did before." And then, after taking a bite of one, most likely, they don't.

Unlike a new laptop or sports car, you don't experience much of a performance boost when you upgrade your grill. You may gain more grate real estate or some attached counter-top space—options that are helpful and nice to have, but in terms of how heat affects food, you're dealing with the same setup. A bigger grill is just that: a larger-sized version of the rig you had before.

If you really want to change how your flame-cooked food tastes, you have to completely alter your grilling game. This is why food cooked over a campfire can satisfy you in a way your Weber can't. It's why owning a smoker can change your entire perspective on what "backyard barbecue" means. And it's why Epicoa (formerly Carson Rotisseries) is bringing the Brazilian-style portable BBQ to the American market.

Blake Carson, founder of Epicoa, signs off his emails with the line "Free the Grillers!" The declaration infers we should relinquish our trusty hot boxes altogether. I went out to test whether his enthusiasm wasn't simply crafty marketing.

The Test:

I'd bring an Epicoa rotisserie to no fewer than two events—one a small gathering with a few mouths to feed, one a full-blown party—to see if the assembly was efficient and the product it produced would be so delicious, as Carson himself says, it would unfetter me from my grill.

The Process:

The rotisserie unpacks and assembles easily in about 10 minutes. That's not to say it's flimsy. The body is aluminum, as are the legs, which flare outward to enhance stability. While the "suitcase" design of the barbecue bed is heavy, it's nothing a Men's Health guy couldn't truck around. Here's what construction looks like.

The legs screw into the bottom of the cooking case.

The rotisserie stands stable.

After lifting the lid, you install the side panels and the skewers fit in like so.

The unit runs off electricity, so you’ll need an outlet or the rotisserie’s battery, which is included, to provide juice.

To fuel your fire, you'll need charcoal, which means you'll also need to cart around lighter fluid or a chimney starter and give time for the coals to turn white hot and ashy. But that's fine because you can prepare your food (and lance it!) during the warm-up stage.

Over the course of my two tests I cooked bacon-wrapped chicken chunks, sausage, sirloin steaks, chicken wings, pineapple and, because I was curious, hot dogs. In most cases, I seasoned the meat with nothing more than salt and pepper. Depending on the thickness of the barbecue-to-be, total cooking time ranged from 10 minutes for the hot dogs to 30 minutes for the steaks.

Cleanup involves dousing and disposing of the coals, as well as allowing the rotisserie to cool so you can safely repack. This takes about as long as it takes you to drink a beer.

The Verdict:

If you're looking to buy your first grill, the Epicoa isn't it. To start, it'll cost you $700. For half that, you can buy a solid standing grill for your backyard. The rotisserie operates entirely on direct heat, which means that if you want to harness indirect heat to slow-cook big hunks of meat, such as a pork shoulder, you can't lock in that heat via the lid traditional grills have.

That said, if you've been hunting around hardware stores for a new grill—a grill that you think may help you cook better food—keep your old grill and buy a Epicoa rotisserie. Everything I pulled off the skewers yielded tender, juicy results. Sausage burst with a depth of meaty flavor I didn't think was possible without a good sear. The salt-and-pepper sirloin was one of the best foods I ate all summer. Even the lowly hot dogs gained a sense of enhancement from the rotisserie. Perhaps it was the sirloin fat that had dripped on them from above?

Plus, the Epicoa rotisserie became the centerpiece of each party. Attendees asked questions. People set up chairs to watch the meat rotate. Eaters heaped on the praise. I mean, the thing is pretty damn cool. Bring it to a family reunion, invite some friends over, or truck it to a tailgate. Guaranteed if you don't command attention up to and after you serve the meal.

Not that envy would ever affect your grill-buying decisions. Right? 

Via: Test Drive Epicoas Portable Rotisserie Grill