Dear 500 Degree Grill,

As many people who know me outside of work are well aware, I am a grill aficionado. Perhaps that is not a strong enough word. I am a grilling fanatic. If you were to walk into my backyard you’d see four different grilling apparatuses (side note: why isn’t the plural of apparatus ‘apparati’?). There’s a charcoal grill that used to be an LP grill that I converted at the beginning of the summer, there’s an LP grill that I use when I’m in a hurry or just need to boil water on the side burner while I cook on the charcoal grill, there’s a Dedicated Pizza Grill (just an old, round Weber charcoal grill that is the perfect size and shape for pizza), and there’s also the smoker I just acquired. Along with these things you’d also see me, in a plain white t-shirt, plaid shorts, knee-high black socks, wearing sandals. In this scenario I’m an old man who’s spraying you with a hose and screaming, “WHY ARE IN MY YARD?! WHO ARE YOU?!”

But that’s not the point.

The point is, I love grilling. I love cooking the old-fashioned way, over a wood fire where the conditions aren’t as controlled and your food is infused with a rich, smoky flavor that somehow reconnects you to Terra Firma. Also, it keeps all that extra heat out of my house and reduces the number of times I have to fuss at my wife for touching the thermostat. Never. Touch. My. Thermostat.

As is so often the case, I was grilling in my backyard last night, enjoying the abnormally cool weather and drinking a frosty beverage. On this particular occasion my wife had done lots of prep work for what I was grilling (Sambal Chicken Skewers [we used shrimp and scallops instead] and Tiger Salad, go look both up on BonAppetit.com) and so came to join me outside as I once again gave thanks to Prometheus for the wonderful gift of fire. Yeah, I just made a reference to an ancient Greek myth. You’re surprised? Is this your first Dear So and So? It is? Welcome! I’m probably about to link to a funny comic or something.

Anyhow, we’re both in the backyard and I’m fretting over the skewers, meticulously basting, and basically just being awesome. People that grill are awesome, FYI. I closed the lid and let the heat build up, knowing that I had the skewers on the cooler side of the grill and a low and slow cooking method would give the wood chunks time to get the aforementioned smoky flavor going in full effect. So I continued chatting with my wife about the abnormally cool weather. I continued drinking my frosty beverage. I continued, as they say, being awesome.

Then I looked at my grill. I was trying to hold the temperature at right around 400 degrees. I over shot by 25% and had landed just a shade over 500 degrees. Oops. However, the skewers were on the cooler side of the grill, so they weren’t ruined. But I had to flip them. Immediately. Like some kind of grilling super hero I sprang up from my dedicated grilling chair, scaring the dog and spilling frosty beverage all over myself. I opened the lid and reached down to quickly flip over the first skewer. It was hot. Very hot. I’m no scientist, but I’m predicting that they were anywhere between 0 and 500 degrees. I got one flipped with singing hands. A second, and the pain was semi-intense. A third and I let out a yelp. I heard a sigh behind me.

Eli’s Wife: Why are you doing that by hand?

Eli: Because I need to get these flipped as fast as possible.

EW: And how long do you think it would have taken to go in to get the tongs so you didn’t have to hurt yourself and scare the dog with your screaming?

E: *mental check says it would only have taken 22 seconds to dash into the kitchen and back outside, but who wants to go to all that trouble oh my god that sounds really stupid don’t say that come up with something else* Look, if you don’t suffer for your art, your art suffers.

EW: *blank stare*

E: *blank stare*

EW: That was the most profound thing you have ever said.

E: Thanks!

EW: Too bad you only said it to cover up the fact that you’re too lazy to run into the kitchen to get the tongs.

E: YOU DON’T KNOW ME! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

So thank you, 500 Degree Grill. You provided me with the opportunity to say the most profound thing I’m ever going to say. Also, you’ve started my life of crime, because now I don’t have fingerprints.

Love,

Elijah