I've been festering all day with a thought. It's not caught in my head like the Scooby Doo theme song has been for the last 5yrs, but it's annoying just the same. Next time I'm having a few beers with buddies and grillin' up a storm....the first sally pants to say anything even remotely like "Yummers" is going to get bitchslapped. I've mentioned my distaste for that gremlin Ray. Stoup, yummers and a fake Mmmm Mmmmmm, delish? my ass. There's no place for that around a hibachi, smoker, or fire. When the smoke from my marinated chicken wafts 3miles down the road, shuts down an airport and whites out the closest street..... there's no reason to be making baby talk to the food. If you do, the food has bigger stones than you do. Chicken balls! If you do slip up it's Your choice, either your hand goes on the coals or your face get's a grilled.
This book will be present to stoke up my next adventure in outdoor cooking. Borrowed book, CHECK.... Zippo, CHECK. Fire pit to hold said book, while warming my hands for the real deal Bob's Cookin' Show, CHECK. (It's strategically located no less than 25ft from the actual grill and I'm not putting it any closer, I don't want any of the funk to get on my food.)
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