I love to barbecue. It’s a man thing, I suppose, but when that grill is smoking and the food is sizzling … it’s just the most fun you can have around fire with your clothes on.
I cook with gas these days, though I was raised on charcoal and hickory chips. Dad was an ace with the grill, and could prepare any cut of meat to perfection. I watch him take ordinary bargain cuts of meat and make them taste like the finest filet. He’d build his fire with care, waiting until the coals were just right before placing the meat over it.
These days, I prefer the simplicity of cooking over a gas-fueled fire. Propane and propane accessories; Hank Hill would be proud.
My Weber is piped right into the same gas that lights the stoves and heats the water for the house, so I never have to worry about running out of fuel. It has four burners and a charring flame. Plenty of room to cook, but this night, the grill would be tested, as would my skills as a barbecue chef.
Tonight, the fare was ribs – beef and pork – chicken, and grilled veggies for my niece’s birthday. Three rack of pork ribs, a rack of beef ribs and about a dozen beef short-ribs, and a dozen skewers of tomatoes, onions, bell peppers, pineapple chunks, and zucchini; rice pilaf, green salad, and garlic bread completed the dinner menu. Dessert was German chocolate cake and rocky road ice cream.
I cooked in shifts, staring with the beef ribs, then the pork, followed by the chicken. The veggies were last as they don’t require much time.
The family is small now so the gathering was more intimate than usual. They all visited with each other as I tended the grill. We ate. Dessert was served and consumed. While everyone sat around the table and talked, I cleaned up. It’s what I do. Afterward, as everyone drifted off to their respective homes, appreciation … thanks … love was shared. It was a good day, and the company was good.
I love to barbecue. It’s a family thing too.
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