It's a beautiful sunny day in England today, and a public holiday, so what about a BBQ? Since we so rarely get the chance to have one, here is a set of instructions:
BBQ RULES:
We are about to enter the BBQ season. Therefore it is important to
refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking
activity.
When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are
put into motion:
(1) The woman buys the food.
(2) The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert.
(3) The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along
with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the
man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.
(4) The woman remains outside the compulsory three meter exclusion
zone where the exuberance of testosterone and other manly bonding
activities can take place without the interference of the woman.
Here comes the important part:
(5) THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.
(6) The woman goes inside to organise the plates and cutlery.
(7) The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is looking
great. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he
flips the meat.
Important again:
(8) THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.
(9) The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins,
sauces, and brings them to the table.
(10) After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes
And most important of all:
(11) Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.
(12) The man asks the woman how she enjoyed ' her night off ', and,
upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there's just no
pleasing some women.
I saw this all the time growing up. So true! So true!
Just one difference. My dad always bought the meat himself that he was going to grill (steaks) or BBQ. Mom never did. Dad claimed he just wanted to get the "right" meat. As though my mom had no idea how to buy! Sheesh! She did all the other shopping!
Only he prepared it and placed it on the grill. We women--mom and I and any female guests--could watch and do all the other work and clean-up, but only dad--and later my brother--could touch the meat! Mom and I joked to each other, and to dad, about it.
Would we taint the meat if we touched it? Or had anything to do with its preparation? Dad just brushed us away saying it was his job to use the grill.
One day my mom and I were sitting on the patio while dad was slow-cooking some ribs on the grill. He had set a timer for when he'd flip them around on the cool side. The timer went off while he had gone inside to take a piss and (you guessed it) get another beer. I got up and shouted through the patio screen "I'll turn 'em dad," observing that this was finally my chance to involve myself in the grilling. Mom got up too and stood next to me to enjoy my moment of encroaching on the sacred male ritual.
Just as I was ready to flip the slabs dad dashed out of the house and shouted "That's okay, that's okay, I got it," as he gently nudged us aside and took the tongs from my hand. Mom and I just stood staring at him as he performed this crucial task. I was 14 years old and thought myself quite the woman at that age. I blurted out "Geeze dad, it's not like mom and I are menstruating or anything! We won't taint 'em! Promise!"
Dad's mouth opened and his jaw dropped as he stared at me, looking for some words to say to his outspoken teenage daughter. "Really, Marcella," he said, obviously shocked., "must you?" Mom was laughing so hard I thought she's never stop. I was proud of myself! I has assaulted the male grilling hegemony!
Dad never spoke about what I had said, but mom and I to this day laugh ourselves silly every time we recall that special day on the patio.
True story.