Meat + Fire = Good

This post is dedicated to my really awesome Uncle Mike, who sent us the barbeque. Thank you so much!

"There're no instructions," my husband informed me with a small frown, surrounded by a sea of parts - some black, some chrome, and all of them inconveniently not looking like a barbeque.
"What?" I said, snorting quietly as I looked up over my laptop's screen. I'd come out to the living room to offer moral support - I only say 'moral support' because I can be really annoying when it comes to assembling various household items and it drives him batty. "That's ridiculous. There has to be."
"Not anywhere. This book just has general care guidelines and recipes in three languages," he said, holding the offending bit of newsprint aloft. "Aw, it'll be all right. It's not that hard."

These, as you know, are famous last words.  I felt my blood run cold, as if he'd just invited disaster to come sweeping through the apartment and crash on our sofa for an uncomfortably long period of time.

"Are you sure?" I asked, squinting at him.
"Yeah, all I need to do is snap this into here..."
"Let me Google for an instruction manual."
"... and this into here..."
"Lessee... Weber charcoal grill..." Click, click.
"... this goes over here..."
"What the hell?" I stared at my screen, gesturing at it in disgust. "All the links for the instruction manuals on the manufacturer's site are pointing back to the main page!"
"Uh oh. Where does this go?" He frowned at a piece of aluminum in his hand.
"I mean, seriously! Look at this! How stupid is their website maintainer?"
"This doesn't fit." His face scrunched up in dismay as he tried to figure out where to attach, screw, or snap the offending piece.
"If I click on this instruction manual, I expect to be taken to the instruction manual, not the table of contents for all the manuals they have!" I huffed indignantly.
"Hm." *BANG BANG BANG* "Nope. Still doesn't fit."
"I should write a letter."
"Hon?"
"Yeah?"
"This doesn't fit."


Now please don't get the wrong idea, oh gentle reader. The husband and I are not stupid. In fact, we are university educated people - which means that a lot of people with more letters after their names than letters in their names established that we should have functioning brains between our ears, and gave us very expensive bits of paper to hang on our walls and show off at dinner parties (if we had them) and start off the best stories with, "This one time when I was in university...".

However, we could not put together a barbeque without an instruction manual.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

vv More after the jump! vv


We eventually managed to make it work, of course, after I pulled up the Weber website and peered at a picture of our grill in question, slowly scrolling through the ridiculous Flash presentation to look at the 'features'. Seriously, people, it's a big metal kettle that you put stuff that burns into, set the stuff that burns on fire, then cook food over the fire. It does NOT need a slick Flash presentation that will show you 'all the features'. It's a damned barbeque. As long as it isn't flammable too, then it's serving its purpose.

I still want to know the point of not shipping assembly instructions, however. I mean, they ship instructions for everything these days, and even include warnings on things like curling irons that say 'DO NOT INSERT INTO BODILY ORIFICE'. The manufacturers assume we're too stupid to not stick curling irons up our rears, but they think we can put a barbeque together without even some vague idea of what goes where.

Nice.

After about forty minutes of assembly, however, our little grill was ready to roll! Well. 'Little' is a misnomer - it's quite a good size (22.5"), and I'm already thinking about the various fun things I'm going to throw on the grill in the near-ish future. I'd love to try doing a whole roast chicken, for example, as well as some fresh veggies brushed with olive oil and laid down, and maybe a beef roast that can be sliced for sandwiches...

Ahem. Getting ahead of myself.

Last night we went for simple, so we could figure out the nuances of charcoal barbeques--

Okay, hang on. Let me go into something briefly here. My entire family (both sides) think I'm crazy for going for a charcoal set up instead of the ubiquitous propane. My mother thinks I'm going to catch the cancer from it, in particular. To be honest, the husband and I are a little leery of bottles of pressurized gas - this stems from our last barbeque. He tried to light it during the summer, and unbeknownst to us something had become blocked to the point that turning the gas on and lighting it resulted in an epic *PFOOMPH* of gas and fire, as well as him losing his armhair and a couple sanity points. So when we added a barbeque to our registry, I asked him which he'd prefer since he really does enjoy the whole cooking outside thing. "Charcoal," he asked, and I was fine with it. I still am. It has a learning curve, but that's part of what makes it fun.

--derail over.

Dinner was simple: boneless/skinless marinated chicken breasts, baked potatoes given a start in the microwave, and for me a little foil packet of portobello mushroom and onion seasoned with garlic powder and shallot salt from Penzey's Spices.

There were two marinades used on the chicken. One was a little blend I whipped up: olive oil, white vinegar, garlic, and a hefty dash of shallot-pepper seasoning (again from Penzey's). The husband, being a local Buffalo boy, prefers a local concoction called Chiavetta's Barbeque Marinade. He's been singing its praises for a while, and although I don't go crazy for it, it does have a very unique tang to it. A vinegar based marinade, it's not as thick as, say, regular barbeque sauce, nor is it sweet; it has a definite smoky taste that sneaks up after the initial burst of tartness and spice. In the bottle it smells like old socks and I found it wholly unappealing. It was better on chicken, but not something I'd seek to eat again. He ate it like there was no tomorrow, though - I might like it better on beef or pork. Experimentation required!

There are a few things we've learned after last night's meal.

1. We need to invest in a charcoal chimney, because we both suck at stacking briquettes. This is why we don't play Jenga.
2. Lighting a barbeque in a brisk breeze is not as easy as it looks.
3. Avoid the briquettes with the lighter fluid in them next time. Just because it seems like a good idea doesn't mean it is.
4. Fully read the instruction manual. Did you know that once your coals are good you should spread them out? Yes? We didn't. No wonder it took so long to cook everything.
5. Portobello mushrooms are not my favourite, and I should try grilling some crimini or something instead next time instead of foil-packeting it.
6. Onions either should be grilled or fried in a pan because I don't much care for semi-raw onions that are grey from mushroom juices.

Ultimately, though? We had fun. We sat on our balcony in our folding chairs, talking, waiting, and sharing each other's company. We watched other people have the same idea we had - cooking outside - and listened to the neighbourhood noises, while teasing our cat through the open window screen. The sun was behind us, the wind was cool, and it was just about a picture perfect afternoon. We may not be the ultimate grilling wizards, and we're still learning what to do, but we'll sort that all out in time.

Without an instruction manual.