Why is it that most men can't heat up a Pop Tart without help, but when it comes to barbecuing, they all have their black belts? My neighbor is a perfect example. He has every outdoor cooking "toy" you can imagine and is out there every weekend - weather permitting - grilling up a storm. He is an accountant and dresses very conservatively in real life, but when it comes to cooking outdoors, he is a fashion madman. Hawaiian shirt, cut off jeans, and an apron that has "King of the Grill" emblazoned across it.
I have never figured out why so many men can cook over an open fire. Maybe it's a cave man thing. I have always known that men are put together differently from us girls, but I suspect that a part of their standard equipment actually includes an extra long, charcoal-resistant spatula.
I love backyard cookouts, but I honestly don't know what I am going to do this July 4th. Last year, my family decided it would be a great idea for us to host a backyard cookout. I was all for it and began by assessing the condition of the backyard. Since the only ones who had been enjoying the chaise lounges during the previous months were 2 Malti-poos, I had to do a little hosing down to make things presentable for people. I then noticed that the garden could have looked better, so I raked, weeded and watered. I even bought a couple of Tiki torches at the garden center. I really got into it.
I then planned the menu and went to the market. The bill was over $200 for hot dogs and hamburgers. How does that happen? Once home, I lugged the giant bags of chips, the mega sodas, the six-packs of beer, the buns and everything else into the kitchen. I was pretty pooped, but managed to find the strength to haul the 20-pound sack of charcoal in before I collapsed. Isn't it ironic that no matter how long you take at the market, there is never anyone home when you arrive with the groceries? Why is that? I must be doing something wrong because my timing truly sucks on this one. If you figure it out, please have your people call my people. I need to know.
On the big day, I got up early and made the traditional truckload of potato salad. Every bowl in the house was put into service for snacks. I gave the grill a once-over until it sparkled like a new Cadillac. I then seasoned and assembled all the food like I was readying it for a cable cooking show. Lastly, I made an extra special batch of my special barbecue sauce. Whew!
The guests arrived and my dear friend Ben emerged from my kitchen in his chef’s hat and matching apron. The crowd at my house received him with the same appreciation and awe as they once would have given Pavarotti when he took center stage at the Met. My guy bowed ceremoniously and the grilling commenced!
It's wicked good fun to watch a man bar-b-que. Just as soon as the food hits the fire, all the other men congregate around the grill, beer bottles in hand, and start to tell bar-b-queing war stories and discuss over-the-flame cooking techniques. It's very adorable to behold since these are the same guys who eat cookies and potato chips for dinner when they are alone.
I remember that a good time was had by all and Ben is still getting rave reviews for his skills as outdoor chef extraordinaire and for that fabulous "secret sauce"!
I guess I could have felt hurt, but I am used to my behind-the-scenes role after all these years on this earth. I really couldn't expect anyone to applaud me for washing the dog hair off the patio chairs.
So what are we doing this 4th of July? I haven't prepared a thing. Maybe my family has planned a backyard party and all I have to do is show up. That will happen the same day that pigs learn to fly, but it's always nice to have a fantasy.
Be safe. Have fun. And please shop our 30% OFF the entire site SALE!
