Being a man isn't easy. Or I should say being a manly man isn't easy.
You know, the kind of motorcycle-riding, beer-drinking, meat-barbecuing dude that men want to be and women want to be with. (Of course, a decent amount muscle-flexing and beard-growing are quite helpful too, but these are the most important attributes.)
Don't get me wrong-it's not that I need to be a full-fledged manly man. I'm quite content to drive my purple moped and grow my patchy facial hair. But what I really want-no, what I really need in my life-is some grilling. And as the warm days of summer fade away, I'm worried I may be too late.
The summer started so promisingly for me. I lived on my own with my very own grill-be it a miniature version-but a grill is a grill nonetheless. Unfortunately, it took that mini-kettle two months to finally get out of my car. Once it did, it spent the remainder of the summer collecting dust under my desk.
Now, I'm not terribly familiar with city fire codes, but I think it's safe to say that neither of these locations are approved zones for barbecuing. So, as you can imagine, the grill saw very little action. Major grilling dates like the Fourth of July and Labor Day passed. The stack of hamburger patties in my freezer began to take on the characteristics of a small glacier, and the hot dog buns I bought at the beginning of the summer molded into a biology experiment.
All that time, my parents kept asking me if I'd used my grill yet. I was too ashamed to admit that my grill-actually, the box it was in-had become a very handy Ottoman/book shelf, so I just told them I hadn't gotten around to it yet.
I should point out that my dad is the grilling king of South- Central Wisconsin. For him, cookout season begins shortly after Valentine's Day, and it doesn't usually end until sometime in mid-November. He grills everything. In fact, I'm fairly certain he signs documents at work in charcoal. For him, grilling isn't just a way to cook pork chops; it's a way of life.
That's why I'm so ashamed of my char-less lifestyle. Last week, I cleaned my grill in hopes of possibly cooking out once. But it was all for naught, as I just ended up fixing macaroni and cheese instead.
It's stupid, I know. You're probably wondering why I don't just cook some hot dogs. It's easy, right?
That may be so, but I've been thinking about it and building it up so much that I'm afraid to mess it up. What if I use too much lighter fluid? How charred is too charred? Should I buy a fire extinguisher in case I set one of my roommates on fire? To the everyday barbecue specialist, these probably aren't major concerns, but for me they're troubling.
I'm sure one day it will happen for me, I just don't see it coming anytime soon. Until then, I'll be shopping for motorcycles on ebay and doing my best to grow a full beard.
Do you want to buy Joe's grill? E-mail him at jphasler@wisc.edu.
