call from h telling me he was on his way and telling me to light the grill. I would, and season the meat and then he would come and grill it. I would make the sides.
Now, he's not around and so I decided to try to grill myself. How hard can it be, right? I've seen him do it about a million times. Usually I am watcing the girls and talking to him about his day, their day, my day, while he is grilling, but I have observed him put the meat/chicken/fish/ veggies down on white hot coals and then turn them, baste them, whatever. And plus, we (H) are always watching the cooking network so I've seen bobby flay, et. al, do it about a million times too.
I made some salmon last week and it was good. A little of it came apart and fell into the coals, but that is ok, right? I am a learning, right?
So there is this thing called beginner's luck....
I moved onto chicken breast. I thought I would pour some vinagrette over it and it would be yummy and versatile and I could use any leftovers for pasta.
Because H is old school, we have a charcoal weber grill, not one of those fancy gas ones. And because H is crazy we cannot use lighter fluid, not because of harmful chemicals, mind you, but because he thinks he can taste it. So we use this little metal tube that you put newspaper under and let that catch fire and then it catches the coals on fire and then you have to do this tricky manuever where you lift up the grill and dump the coals into the pit without burning yourself.
After I dumped the coals into the pit, I noticed that there weren't very many of them. And rather than adding more coals like H sometimes does, I thought "I am sure this will be fine"
An hour later, I was still cooking the breasts. And they were raw, burnt and dry at the same time. I was able to find one that was edible (safe) and the girls ate it.
But I remained undeterred. And so I moved onto a nice steak I bought. This time I put tons of coal into the little cylinder thing-y. And I had this roaring fire. And I put the steak on to the sound of a very satisfying sizzle. But then, I covered the fire--because I've seen H do that before. And it made the temperature of the grill rise, and when I took off the lid it looked like it might be a little overdone. I turned it and went back inside. I glanced out the window a minute later and the steak had somehow caught on fire.
Yeah--that ought to do it.
Somehow it was rare, burnt, and tough as nails--tough being somewhat of an accomplishment for a piece that was once labeled as prime. And when I cut into it, the steak had this hairy appearance, and I am not sure why. (This is also something I have never done. H always cuts the meat.)
Annabelle ate it, but spit out out about 50 percent of it because they were "to hard for me to chew"
Once more, I am undeterred.
Tonight I made salmon again. And it wold have been okay, except when I was lighting the grill, I noticed some rain clouds. And while they were quite dark, I ignored them because the accuweather forecast said there was only 20 percent chance of "pop-up" showers--and why would one suddenly "pop up" over my grill?
Well, because it could. That's why. And so while my salmon was cooked through, it was slightly cold and wet and without flavor from the rain having washed off the bbq sauce.
Annabelle ate her entire piece, which was nice of her. Tallulah and I just opted for the peas and wild rice.
I remain undeterred. I am the Rudy of the grill. And to the people (Hyphen) who read this blog that think only losers like the movie rudy--may I remind you of the time that you served me raw shrimp in my greenbriar apartment, or the time you burnt the steak, like 2 months ago.
After dinner, instead of our usual popsicle on the deck and mudpies, Annabelle spread out a blanket and we had oreos by the picture window and watched the cars go by in the rain and then we played hide and go seek.
Turns out some people are as good at that game as I am at grilling.
Crumb faces!
Yeah, I have no idea where you guys are....
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