Y'a pas vraiment de raison si c'est pour fumer à froid, tu peux fumer dans pas mal n'importe quel contenant.
Adam Sachs l'explique bien dans
cette belle ode au fumoir patenté.
"My foray into the netherworld of D.I.Y. literature stems from romantic notions about the placid art of cold-smoking, the application of smoke (but not heat) to foods to imbue them with smoky taste and to subtly alter their texture. It’s a method that puts me in mind of meandering drives along the Swedish coast, searching for little red shacks with telltale chimneys where men in thick sweaters smoke exquisite eel, shrimp, and salmon. More generally, it’s about the quiet magic that happens when creatures of the sea are left to repose in wood-paneled rooms for extended periods, like Finns in a sauna.
(...)
There are designs for smokers made from old refrigerators and trash cans connected to charcoal grills by long tubes. There’s the U.S.D. (ugly steel drum) style, and repurposed flowerpots heated by soldering irons.
The secret to cold-smoking is there really isn’t any secret. You just need a box, a heating element, some hickory chips, and a dream. You can smoke in a cardboard crate or a lidded lobster pot or a discarded oak armoire.
Sure, you could buy a real cold smoker, but I liked the ubiquity and utilitarian qualities of an old filing cabinet. Mine cost $5, with dented drawers that were hard to close and even harder to open. “If it’s what you need, it’s what you need,” the man at the junk shop graciously allowed, looking at me with a suggestion of affectionate pity not unlike my son’s."
(et cette partie-là, qui va parler à MadChuck)
"Cold smoke is inherently drama-less. Hot smoke is the thumping bass; cold smoke the hiss of treble.
What you’re looking for is, in the lingo of cold-smoking aficionados, lovely curls of “T.B.S.,” or thin blue smoke. The goal is to achieve an even, delicate smoke and hold for as long as you need to impart flavor."