Why Barbequing Makes Me Awesome

            Barbequing is a stereotypical man occupation (manpation). Probably to do with the fact that it involves raw meat, fire, beer and the great outdoors. However, I don’t think that any particular culinary treat should be one gender’s sole property so I am in favor of women grilling steaks and men making puff pastries. When I was younger barbequing was a secret that only old men were privy to. The movies were full of dad’s grilling burgers, franks and steaks to their heart's content, while the women sat inside making JELL-O salad. I am not going to say I am a pyromaniac, but I have been known to mess around with matches from time to time, so needless to say I was more interested in flames than mixed fruit. But all through my childhood and teenage years my father filled the role of barbeque aficionado leaving me no outlet for my fire-loving ways.

            Then I moved away to college, moved into my own house and everything changed for the better. I suddenly became the go-to for all things cooking related. “How long do you bake a potato?  What’s with measuring? Please sauté some asparagus for me because you’re freaking awesome.” I loved it. I reveled in my new power as Kitchen Extraordinaire. Then things began to go wrong. I became obsessive. If one of my housemates was cooking I would feel a compulsion to take over and show her how to do it. Even with simple things like salad, I assumed I knew best. I was turning into my father. When I was younger he would let me cook dinner but then spend all night looking over my shoulder telling me what I was doing wrong. I started avoiding the kitchen like the plague, making sure that my snarky comments were kept below a whisper so that my housemates didn’t add me to their list of people to kill.

            Then one day we borrowed our next door neighbor’s barbeque and the planets realigned. All my obsessive behavior was forgotten because I was the only one in the house that knew the secrets of the grill and they knew that I was all that stood between them and a perfectly juicy burger. It was in the moments that I was flipping delicious patties onto lightly toasted buns that my eyes were opened to the wonder of the truth that I had just discovered. Giving people food that they cannot make for themselves makes them like you. It had been staring me in the face for a long time but not until this moment did I truly get it. People love food; therefore people that provide food have to be loved as well.

            I have recently acquired a red barbeque that I have named LadyBug. LadyBug is equipped with wheels meaning that anywhere I go people will love me. The second the lighter-fluid hits the coals stars of bliss appear in the eyes of those around me. It’s actually pretty embarrassing to be worshiped in such a way, but now that I have the secret there is no going back. My duty is to provide well cooked meat to the less fortunate cooks around me and I will uphold my duty till I breathe my last charcoaled breath.

Fun Fact: You can spell barbeque with a ‘c’ or a ‘q’ but since ‘q’ is a completely underappreciated letter I chose to give it the spot of glory in this post.

Songs that make me a better BBQ-er: