DON’T BUY A SMOKER. Let Garnet weld you one. It will be your one-of-a-kind.

I’m in the market to buy me a smoker real soon, once I’ve finished my research. As my wife said with a lot of air, “Last year it was pinball machines. Last spring it was craft beer. Now it’s smoking meat. When will you settle down?”

“That’s what it’s all about, Honey,” I replied. “When I retire I’ll have pinballs, pints, and pork ribs. It’s all about settling down.”

Smoking is more complicated than grilling. It’s a sophisticated intertwining of smoke, venting, time and temperature regulation. The heat is indirect. It can take 6 hours to do a rack of ribs.

Smoking is appealing because it allows for various wood flavors to enhance your food; the low temperatures and long cooking times allow meat to tender until it falls from the bone. I long figured these skills to be beyond my dilettante abilities, and best left to the naturally gifted, like Chad, my son-in-law.

Then this summer I tried my hand at smoking ribs on my grill with chips wrapped in foil. My baby backs came out great, magically delicious. I tried it again. Great again. Hey, smoking is fun, and it takes exactly two football games to finish a rack of pork ribs. Time to buy a real smoker.

For the past month I’ve been researching. I learned a lot and almost got burned. Early on, being cheap, unsure of my commitment, I bought a $179 Brinkman smoker at Home Depot. Lucky for me it was broken in the box. As I took out each piece, I was dismayed by the thin and flimsy metal — not at all like my Dutch oven and iron skillets.

I regretted the purchase while opening the box. Then the central hinge fell out. The broken weld was the size of an ant’s head. I took the joker smoker straight back. The clerk asked, “Do you want to pick out another?”

“Heck no!” I said. “I’ve learned my lesson. Give me my money back.”

I did more reading. There are many inexpensive, workable means of smoking. Smokers can be made out of a barrel drum or trash can by cutting a door and vents and suspending a rack for holding the meat. Smokers can be all electric and look like a compact refrigerator. Some use pellets. Some look like a Big Green Egg and cost two grand.

Bottom line on traditional offset smokers: avoid in-stock models at Home Depot, Lowes, Wal-Mart and Target regardless of brand or price. They’re all flimsy representations of the real thing. Expect to make a special order, and know your brands.

Real offset smokers are thick, heavy-gauge metal, huge and expensive, costing $1,000 or more. Most backyard enthusiasts are not prepared to pay that kind of money. One can buy a lot of restaurant ribs with a thousand bucks.

It’s difficult to find dealers of high-end smokers — Horizon, Jambo, Klose, Lang, Meadow Creek, Peoria, Pitmaker, Green Mountain. It often requires a contract and deposit with a far-away website. It may have to be special built. You will have to drive to pick it up or pay hundreds to have it shipped. A family smoker can weigh 300 to 500 pounds. Most folks just say, “Fuggedaboutit.”

I turned to Craigslist. Perhaps someone out there bought a smoker with hope, found they didn’t use it, and intended to sell it discounted. I checked almost daily for a month from the Bay Area to Sacramento. I found nothing that suited me … until yesterday.

An ad for a handsome new smoker in Vallejo from a welder for $1,800 caught my eye. That’s too rich for my blood, but I made email contact, asked if I could get one in the $700 range.

Garnet wrote back, said he was sure he could build me a smoker that would make me happy. He gave me his website, GStacksPits.com, where I saw dozens of photos. I called and talked to him. I asked if he had a showroom. He laughed and said he only had his shop. No smokers on display. He builds to order. Could I visit? Sure. He gave me directions.

I drove over. Found it on Broadway, buried in the back of a cluster of industrial buildings, behind an auto shop, beyond two cyclone fences, past a dozen cars in for repair. I could barely fit my truck down the narrow dirt corridor between buildings busy with working folk.

“I’m looking for Garnet,” I said to the first person I encountered.

“Yeah, Garnet. He’s here. Where’s Garnet?” the woman called to a group of men. They all pointed down the lane. “At the end.”

I found him welding. He works alone. He didn’t notice me for ten minutes. He was building a Santa Maria grill on a trailer for a guy in Oregon who was driving down in the morning for pickup.

At last he stood up and removed his blinders. He was a big barrel of a man, hair flowing down his back, a grin wrapped ear to ear. “You must be Steve.” He pulled off a thick welding glove and enveloped my hand.

“Man, you are the real deal,” I said looking admiringly around his compact, crowded shop at the stacks of sheet metal, torches, tanks, meshing, and a half-built smoker in the middle. His cousin Rickie was helping out, swinging a hammer.

No ornaments, knick-knacks, or pictures of smokers hung on the walls, no frills, just working space, tools, materials, and a big man making awesome smokers.

He showed what he could build for me. I left feeling happy.

Steve Gibbs teaches at Benicia High School and has written a column for The Herald since 1985.