In the back yard of my grandparents’ home in the quaint village of Lynchburg, Ohio stood a small six by six building erected for the purpose of smoking meat. By the time I can recall however, it simply served as a garden storage shed and rabbit hutch. The intrigue it left me with has haunted me for over fifty years, until at last I have one of my own! Smokehouses have been a traditional part of the American landscape since the colonial days. It is said if you had pigs, you had a smokehouse…