By Joanna Gibson ( Athlete , pit master ) Guest post
I’ve competed in triathlons, run ultra-marathons, and trained through snow and sweat—but nothing gets my adrenaline going quite like firing up the grill. It’s my therapy. My tradition. My link to my father, who taught me everything I know about fire, flavor, and focus.
He was a Baltimore native, and if there was one thing he loved even more than baseball, it was pit beef—that smoky, crusty, rare roast beef sandwich that’s as Baltimore as crabcakes and Natty Boh.
He taught me early that grilling is a sport—one of timing, instinct, and attention to detail. It’s also where I learned patience, which any athlete knows is harder to train than your quads. So today, when I prep my grill for pit beef, I’m not just making food. I’m honoring a legacy.
What is Baltimore Pit Beef?
If you’ve never had it, Baltimore Pit Beef is not your average barbecue. It’s not low-and-slow. It’s not smoked. It’s grilled hot and fast over charcoal, seared on the outside and served rare to medium-rare in the center.
The meat? Usually top round beef—lean, tough if handled wrong, but deeply flavorful when done right. It’s sliced thin (almost shaved), piled high on a Kaiser roll, and served with nothing but raw white onion and horseradish mayo or tiger sauce. No lettuce. No tomato. No apologies.
Baltimoreans like it honest, fire-kissed, and proud. And so do I.
My Personal Ritual: Pre-Race Pit Beef
Every year, the night before the Patapsco River Trail Challenge, I light my kettle grill and make pit beef for the team. It’s not “race food,” strictly speaking, but it’s our tradition. Charcoal, smoke, and that first slice of beef that’s hot and pink in the center—it grounds me. Reminds me that power isn’t always about speed. Sometimes it’s about heat, rest, and precision.
The Recipe: Real Baltimore Pit Beef
This is my go-to, tested across countless grills, tailgates, and post-race celebrations. It’s simple, but like any good training plan, execution is everything.
Ingredients
For the beef:
- 3 to 4 lbs top round roast (ask your butcher for a uniform cut)
- 2 tbsp kosher salt
- 1 tbsp coarse black pepper
- 1 tbsp granulated garlic
- 1 tbsp onion powder
- 2 tsp paprika
- 1 tsp ground coriander (optional, but my dad swore by it)
For the Tiger Sauce:
- 1/2 cup mayonnaise
- 2 to 3 tbsp prepared horseradish (adjust to taste)
- 1 tsp white vinegar
- Salt to taste
To serve:
- Kaiser rolls or soft sandwich buns
- Thinly sliced raw white onion
- Pickles (optional, but don’t tell Baltimore)
Equipment You’ll Need
- Charcoal grill (Weber kettle preferred)
- Instant-read thermometer
- Sharp slicing knife or meat slicer
- Chimney starter
- Wire rack for resting
Step-by-Step Instructions
Step 1: Season the beef
Pat the roast dry. Mix your dry rub ingredients and coat the meat generously. Press the spices in so they form a light crust. Let it rest at room temperature for at least 45 minutes, or refrigerate overnight for deeper flavor. If chilled, let it come to room temp before grilling.
Step 2: Build a two-zone fire
Light a chimney of charcoal and dump the hot coals to one side of your grill. This creates two zones—one hot side for searing, and one cooler side for finishing. Place the grill grate and clean it well.
Step 3: Sear hot, finish slow
Sear the roast directly over the coals, turning every couple of minutes until it develops a deep brown crust on all sides—about 10–12 minutes total.
Then move it to the cooler side of the grill, cover with vents open, and cook until the internal temp hits 120°F (for rare) or 130°F (for medium-rare). This usually takes 20–30 minutes, depending on the size of your roast and heat level.
Step 4: Rest
Remove the meat and let it rest on a wire rack, tented loosely with foil, for 15–20 minutes. This is as important as any stretch or cool-down. Don’t skip it.
Step 5: Slice thin
Using your sharpest knife or slicer, cut the beef against the grain into paper-thin slices. It should be pink in the center with charred edges—juicy, but not bleeding.
Step 6: Serve
Pile the sliced beef onto warm rolls. Top with raw white onion and a smear of tiger sauce. That’s it. If you’re adding lettuce, we can’t be friends.
Pro Tips from Dad (and Me)
- Top round is lean, so don’t overcook it. Medium-rare is the gold standard.
- Let your fire breathe. Don’t smother it. Fire needs oxygen, like lungs need air.
- Slice thin, or don’t bother. That’s the difference between roast beef and pit beef.
- Tiger sauce is essential. The bite of horseradish cuts through the richness and keeps the flavor bold, not heavy.
Final Thoughts: Built from Fire and Focus
I’ve grilled in the rain, on beaches, at high altitudes, and in crowded parking lots before races. But something about making pit beef always brings me back to the backyard I grew up in—the smoke in my eyes, my dad behind the tongs, coaching me like it was a sprint start.
Pit beef is a celebration of skill and simplicity. It’s fast, fierce, and unapologetically bold—just like the women who grill it.
So fire it up. Get your hands on some top round. Sharpen your knife. And bring Baltimore to your backyard, one smoky, juicy bite at a time.
