Grill Master Jr.

I mentioned yesterday how grilling runs in my family. I remember as a young boy standing on the patio with my grandpa. I would watch intently as he carefully and lovingly finessed each piece of meat. Sometimes he would only give stuff a quarter turn or move something a few inches seeking out the perfect spot on the grill for that particular piece of meat. I could tell even at my young age that this was SERIOUS business. I also didn't mind the occasional sip of beer I was allowed.

My dad was no slouch either. He knew his way around the grill just like grandpa did. Dad was more into barbecuing meats where Grandpa was more about burgers, brats and metts. Barbecued Chicken, pork chops and pork tenderloin were Dad's specialty. His barbecued pork tenderloin was like candy. Dad didn't usually give me a sip of beer like Grandpa did, but I'm not saying I didn't sneak one every now and then. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I'll never tell.

Here's a quick side story about Dad's barbecuing. One time for a family gathering Dad was grilling barbecued chicken. In this rare instance Dad slightly (actually quite a bit) burned the chicken. There was lots of charred black stuff. He served it anyway even though he knew it was not his best work. We all politely said it wasn't that bad, but my uncle raved over it. He was beside himself with delight. In his enthusiasm over Dad's burnt chicken my uncle asked what this stuff was called. Dad jokingly said it was "Cremated Chicken", acknowledging his error in letting it burn. For years afterward when my uncle was invited over for dinner, he would (in all seriousness) ask if we were going to have cremated chicken. It has been a family joke ever since.

It was from my Grandpa and my Dad that I learned how to grill and to love everything about it. A cookout was an event centered around the grill itself. The patriarch did the grilling and was not interested in getting help from the Peanut Gallery. Advice was not solicited and none was ever given. First it was Grandpa, then it was my Dad and now it's me. I've taken what I learned from them and have acquired some knowledge of my own. I know Dad and Grandpa never used cast iron grates (even though cast iron has been used for cooking in this country since the 1600's).

Now the time has come to begin the process of preparing to pass the torch (or more accurately pass the spatula). How irresponsible would it be if I didn't pass on the spatula to my own son? From this point on Michael will be the Grill Master Jr. When he still lived with me he would watch me grill and picked up on some techniques. I even allowed him to cook a few times while I watched. Now that he is living the bachelor life, he and his roommates do a lot of grilling of their own. These youngsters have a cheap little hand-me-down gas grill. They are attempting to grill like a couple of professionals, but they are at a distinct disadvantage using such an inferior grill. They need a REAL grill if they are going to be serious about this art form. This is why I was thrilled when Tami suggested on Friday that we buy a new grill for Michael (aka Grill Master Jr.). I didn't get him one quite like mine, but he is still getting a decent starter grill that will more than do the job. This new grill is currently in my garage still in the box. It is now awaiting pick up and the subsequent assembly. I can't wait to see Michael learn the pure pleasure and joy of cooking on a real grill. I wouldn't mind being the taste tester of his first steak.

Michael, I am passing you the spatula and tongs. Use them like you've been taught. This is family tradition and I expect you to teach YOUR children some day.