Cooking With Coal.

My father was never a proponent of propane.

That was too easy.

And just like him?

I like to be difficult.

So when we grilled?

We grilled.

With charcoal.

Weber baby.

He explained it as an art.

Something to be taught and trained in.

It wasn't a turn it on and go, it was something to be studied.

You have to make sure the coals are evenly distributed and that means you need to have one side higher, because that is where the heat will live, and where you need to start the cooking process.

Then you move it over to the smaller coal pile to finish the job.

Just as everything else, he made me study.

Learn.

Watch and listen.

To his words, to the smell, to the process.

So while I admire anyone who "grills?"

I will never cease to appreciate the coals.

For that is someone who truly loves the art of actual grilling.

This is the closest I will come to being a cave man, and I love it.

Real grilling.

Not to worry Dad, I have those kids out there with me, showing them the ropes.

In a grand hope that they never know propane.

Keeping it old school.

Or trying to.

Fingers crossed and coals hot.

On the correct sides ofcourse.

Xoxo,

C.