Three letters sum up this bank holiday weekend: BBQ. In my family grilling and being the grill-master is a time honoured tradition. My grandfather Ed was the son of two Polish immigrants and everyone knows the Poles are crazy about the meat. So when Ed moved from the windy city out west to sunny California the first thing he purchased was a barbeque. No I am lying but I imagine it was top of the list. He instilled in my father a love of the open flame that has burned bright for years. My father has had various barbeques over the years - of course never a gas one- but it was the Texas half oil-drum with side smoker box that could hold an entire salmon that seals my father's place in the grill master hall of fame. My father makes a tri-tip that could make a grown man cry. My brother is slowly carving out his place alongside my dad.
Now it is not often that we have sunny days like the ones we've had this past weekend. It is imperative that full advantage be taken of the opportunity to grill ourselves silly. On Friday I made a spatchcock chicken, marinated in chili, soy, spring onions, garlic and coriander seeds. Saturday we had some juicy burgers for lunch. Yesterday we invited the family over to enjoy the weather with us as it would be selfish to keep all this charcoal-y goodness to ourselves. I made three spatchcock chickens and a pack of drumsticks. I also assembled various kebabs - one with bratwurst, olives, tomatoes and halloumi cheese. The other was a vegetable kebab with onion, mushroom, zucchini and peppers. I also made a large salad of spinach, mint, nectarines, feta and pumpkin seeds. And who could resist a lovely grilled corn on the cob? For desert I stole my mother's yummy and amazingly simply ice cream sandwich idea.
My father insists of being informed of any undertaking of the sacred art. Upon hearing the menu he said to me, "Your talents are being wasted there, come home." I sense that he is ready to take my grilling education to the next level. Watch this space.
