The Thrill of the Grill

By Emmett Burnett
We can walk on the moon, text message a friend in Romania, and microwave a chicken in 12 seconds. But yet in 2008 we still insist on cooking outdoors. Let’s give outdoor grilling back to the caveman. I know, down here speaking ill of barbecuing is akin to treason. But consider this:

It is Labor Day. 98 degrees outside so naturally, let’s hover over an open pit fire. Nothing like hearing sweat drops sizzle on hot coals. But you are not alone. Just toss an animal organ on charcoal, standby and wait. Within minutes a well meaning dinner guest whose previous cooking experience is Pizza Hut on speed dial will fork rotate the meat. He has no idea why the food needs turning, it just feels right.
Truth is no one stands idly by while something cooks on an outdoor rack. Try it, you can’t do it –something will be turned, poked, stirred, cut, dropped, and/or extinguished.

For much of outdoor cooking we bring the problem on ourselves. Every grill manufacture’s directions clearly states “clean after ever use.” But after an evening of roasting under the sun (You, not the food) the thought is universal, “I’ll scrub it tomorrow.” Tomorrow never comes. Four months later we open the stove top to the charred remains of what once was a living being. There but by lighter fluid go you and I. But let’s start from the beginning.

Firing up a grill has options. None of them work. First there are the Purists. This is a guy using plain charcoal. Like coonskin cap ancestors, he kindles embers, sparking a toasty bed of hot orange. This person tells everyone to wait inside while he frantically dumps newspaper, oily rags, gasoline, ethanol, uranium, anything to aid ignition. These families often dine at KFC.
Then there is the “Presoaker.” He uses fuel embedded with lighter fluid eliminating guess work; soot covered faces, and blackened fingernails. Purest refer to this man as ‘cheater.’ But both methods render the desired, smoky, carbon monoxide flavor.
There is also a coal free option: The self starting, propane grill. It has fake briquettes. They are supposed to heat up but mainly serve to lessen ridicule from Purists and Presoakers. Turn a knob to start the propane gas flowing, punch the ignition switch, instant flame. A word of warning, never press the spark button with the grill lid closed. My neighbor did. He hit the switch and a raging tower of blue flame, blew the lid off. The Space Shuttle called to see if he was okay.

That’s just the beginning. We haven’t discussed the other stuff that doesn’t work, like meat thermometers, a device that registers how hot you are. So why grill?
Why leave a perfectly fine climate controlled kitchen for salmonella’s best friend? We do it to answer primeval urges. After food foraging our prehistoric ancestors seared the catch over fire providing subsistence for Mr. and Mrs. Caveman and the little cave babies. Therefore, grilling must be ‘so easy even a caveman can do it,’ right? Then why are they extinct?

Note: This is a back issue of my newspaper column, So There. For current issues please contact me.

-Emmett

World's Longest Yard Sale

Today is day 3 of our journey in the World's Largest Yard Sale. My trek has spanned 5 states - Alabama to Ohio. Presently somewhere in Tennessee, we have joined 50 thousand people looking at 50 thousand other people's unwanted possessions.

These are items I saw for sell today:

Tennessee is big on selling previously worn shoes for less then a dollar a pair. It is a great deal if you don't mind footwear once donned by hillbillies.

A fax machine selling for $1.50. For three days this fax machine has been left out in the weather. The sales person says the fax machine does not work but would make a good boat anchor. The salesman also wears footwear once donned by hillbillies.

For two bucks a booth offers a headless barbie doll. It is part of "Barbie's tea time party." I asked the owner, "This Barbie has no head, how can she drink tea?" He knocked a dollar off the price.

More later.

Emmett