I need a grill. I really really need a grill.
Now that it's summer, the traditional cook outside season, I feel the primal urge to stoke a fire and smell like smoke while I chew on a hunk of meat.
Last year, Kevin and I bought a small camping grill for the sake of having the odd hot dog. Neither of us had ever cooked over fire before and we didn't do it very often. Perhaps we were intimidated by the thought of learning without guidance. Perhaps we felt inconvenienced by the small cooking space. Perhaps we weren't convinced that the cleanup was worth the reward.
In any case, that's all behind us now. I need to grill. I want to cook everything over fire. Everything tastes so much better and in reality there is so much less fussing. Want some chicken? Salt or marinade it and put it on the grill. Pork chops and tenderloin? Same thing. Steak? Same thing. Want some corn? Don't even shuck it, just put it on the grill. I mean, shoot, you don't even have to monitor it half the time. As a lazy cook, this appeals to me in the extreme.
Now that we have fully embraced this method of cooking, we desperately need to upgrade from tiny little camping grill to a nice normal sized kettle grill. The camp grill is propane, but I feel confident that we can make the transition to charcoal.
What's next on the menu? Maybe a kabob for Kevin and some shrimp for me. Is it weird to have a taste for a thick plank of grilled bologna? Nah.
