The Men Who Stare At Grills. (Or Barbecues)

I'm going to be honest. I could not come up with a title for this entry. It is about outdoor cooking or grilling, or barbecuing.

Here's a few cliche phrases that just didn't quite settle because they were lame as hell:

• Grill baby Grill--so cliche it teetered on national embarrassment. I'd probably get sued for copyright infringement.
• Master and Commander (of the grill) --No, I really didn't mean that. It's groanworthy to the point of humiliating.
• Insert long and pointless title about grilling.
• Search the internet and come up with a foreign sounding title that is both quippy and clever.
• And lastly, grab the first movie that comes to mind and put grill into the title.

Thus, a blog entry is born. I don't know that much about the art of cooking outdoors. I do know that it doesn't look like what is about to be shown. No, men are not the only gender that does the grilling. I know this. However, this is 1965. I can guess women were making their aspics. Pure speculation.

Better Homes and Gardens Barbecue Book, 1965

A picture says a thousand words does it not. Here is a picture perfect family of four. A mom, dad, son daughter. Father has the Brylcreem style parted to one side, the son the opposite. Mother and daughter have identical bobs. The son gets served first, the mother knows this, and the daughter looks none too pleased with her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. The father is not breaking out in a sweat and that grill needs more wheels.

Forget the two inch fat around the red meat. Look at those awesome salt and pepper shakers!! Good grief that's a lot of fat on that meat. Arteries meant nothing back then. They were just tubes that carried oxygenated blood throughout the body. As long as the cells could squeeze through the arterial plaque, no harm done! Let's have some MMMMEAT!

The instructions say the best way to prevent curling is to score the meat. Why not just cut the fat off? That seems a lot more simple that making little scores in a slab of fat and red meat. BS FLAG ALERT!! He's holding a raw piece of meat over a hot grill and still has arm hairs.

In modern world, that would be called "blue". Throw that thick sucker back on the coals for a few more minutes. Yet it's a perfectly rare circle. Food decorating wasn't very advanced. It was photographed as it was and I have to respect that. 

There's a reason burgers have a top bun. The square burger on the white bread with the golden cow poking through it is incredible. Anyone who's ever tried to put a hamburger on a spongy piece of white bread knows the grease and juice is going to absorb into the bread and within seconds, it's stuck like toilet paper on a turd.

The pickle is the star here. Basically it's ground beef and fillers wrapped around a big pickle and topped with catsup (not ketchup). This burger macabre is enough to get someone banned from society.

What health conscious individual came up with this thing? It's like a ground beef stromboli. Two pounds of ground beef, stuffed with "everything" and folded in half. This is one of those just because it can happen does not mean it should happen.

Reason #21,336 why meatloaf should have never been made.

This ought to end the current trend that bacon makes everything better.

There is no definition, no words to describe just how classy it is to hang hot dogs from a wire hanger. Add to it the silverware that looks like it has little hot dogs for handles. It would suck to be the guy with the apron if that hanger buckled under the weight of the wieners. What is up with that coffee percolator? That's the second time I've seen it.

Are we finally putting a face to the apron and forearm guy? The pride in his face, the crinkle of his eyes as he smiles just makes us swoon. 

With his dark hair, dark eyes, defiant jaw, he can rock the oven mitt.

Turkey BDSM. Be firm with your turkey! No gentle rubbing. Take some salt and rub inside that raw wound. Skewer the neck skin to back, insert spit to avoid bone and balance. Hog tie that bird, wash, rinse, repeat. If you don't have the turkey wrist restraints, tie the bird up some more, you kinky little strumpet.

The shish kebobs of all shish kebobs. Pounds of meat, patterns of vegetables, not an olive out of sync. They practically hop out of the book. Someone put a lot of effort into this. Let's see if we can replicate it at home. I know if I tried it, there would be more meat in the coals than on the skewer and by the time I got to the end of the orange one, I would have just lumped the stuff together.

En Garde! Swish swish, clang clang. That thing looks like it would take an eyeball out.

There's no way in the man's world of the 1960s would the weiners point down. It's an affront to all things masculine.

And thus ends the 26th blog entry with probably the stupidest title yet. But it didn't stop you from looking!!

Until next time!