grill monkey

I guess I’m falling into a rut… a pleasant one though… Sundays I’m up cooking brunch for everyone regardless of season… We’ve fired up the Weber for it’s first time of the season. Now not terribly long after I’ve had my post-brunch coma and clean up, I’m figuring out what to burn on the grill for dinner.

We catch ourselves lusting after the big stainless steel grill monsters every time we go to Costco – but I’m skeptical we’ll ever get one. Food just seems to taste better from my little old beat-up kettle.

The three months of going ovenless in the old house turned me into something of a Webberphile – making all sorts of things in it from pot roasts to frozen pizzas.

Which brings up another observation: Within the traditional western family model, – why is it the “dad” that reigns over the outdoor cooking arena?

I’ve witnessed in families where, hands down, the mother is the superior chef but will relinquish control when it comes to the BBQ. Even if it means burnt pork-steaks for dinner.

Does the presence of fire automatically override the culturally-feminine act of food preparation? Are BBQ pits inherently masculine? That train of though seems about as silly as the French who insist on assigning genders to trash cans and tubes of tooth paste.

I guess these musings are mute considering our unconventional family structure. Although – it should be noted that I’m commonly referred to as “papa-bear” – so I guess I’m doomed to tend the fire.

I do so willingly and happily.

I do not however, have to blog about it.