BBQ Etiquette

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14 years 9 months ago #816 by Clever Clogs
BBQ Etiquette was created by Clever Clogs
RULES

We are about to enter the summer and BBQ season. Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking activity .
When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion:

Routine...

(1) The woman buys the food.
(2) The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert.
(3) The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces,
and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.

Here comes the important part:

(4) THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.

More routine...
(5) The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.
(6) The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is looking great. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he flips the meat .

Important again:
(7) THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.


More routine...
(8) The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces, and brings them to the table.
(9) After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.

And most important of all:

(10) Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.
(11) The man asks the woman how she enjoyed "her night off." And, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there's just no pleasing some women...

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14 years 9 months ago #50781 by maggies mum
Replied by maggies mum on topic BBQ Etiquette
I love that! They have it in the BBQ factory on Te Rapa, I got them to photocopy it for me!

Blooming true eh!

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14 years 9 months ago #50792 by jeannielea
Replied by jeannielea on topic BBQ Etiquette
I wonder who's been watching what happens here?! Except the dishes MIGHT not always be done by the woman!

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14 years 9 months ago #50795 by maggies mum
Replied by maggies mum on topic BBQ Etiquette
I put the above on a UK forum not so long ago and here's one of the responses:

Man puts hands in charcoal bag and gets black as coal (while woman remains in house and stays clean)

Man inhales smokes while cooking meat and coughs guts up for the next 3 weeks (while woman chinwags in kitchen with female friends and rellies)

Man stinks of smoke and charcoal for rest of the evening while woman remains clean and fresh.

This is why men cook at burnicues because women wont go anywhere near.
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14 years 9 months ago #50843 by grannie Mary
Replied by grannie Mary on topic BBQ Etiquette
youve got it all wrong, woman prepares, man cooks, woman looks after the wine, then man has to do dishes, cause woman is incapable-or so he thinks,........train em girls!!!

Mary

"Worrying does not empty tomorrow of its trouble,
It empties today of its strength."

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14 years 9 months ago #50856 by phill-k
Replied by phill-k on topic BBQ Etiquette
And if by chance the meat is tough well that's her fault for not selecting it more carefully ;)

Phill & Sheryl
northland

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14 years 9 months ago #50858 by reggit
Replied by reggit on topic BBQ Etiquette
This is my favourite on the same topic [8D] If you prefer to see the vid instead, check out www.barbecue-online.co.uk/barbecue_tips/tong_master.htm there is a link on the bottom to the short film, but only if you have broadband...

THE TONG MASTER

Griff was at the barbecue and Joel was at the barbecue and I was at the barbecue; three men standing around a barbecue, sipping beer, staring at sausages, rolling them backwards and forwards, never leaving them alone. We didn’t know why we were at the barbecue; we were just drawn there like moths to a flame. The barbecue was a powerful gravitational force, a man-magnet. Joel said the thin ones could use a turn, I said yeah I reckon the thin ones could use a turn, Griff said yeah they really need a turn it was a unanimous turning decision. Griff was the Tong-Master, a true artist, he gave a couple of practice snaps of his long silver tongs, SNAP SNAP, before moving in, prodding, teasing, and with an elegant flick of his wrist, rolling them onto their little backs. A lesser tong-man would’ve flicked too hard; the sausages would’ve gone full circle, back to where they started. Nice, I said. The others went yeah.

Kevin was passing us, he heard the siren-song- sizzle of the snags, the barbecue was calling, beckoning, Kevinnnnn ...come. He stuck his head in and said any room? We said yeah and began the barbecue shuffle; Griff shuffled to the left, Joel shuffled to the left, I shuffled to the left, Kevin slipped in beside me, we sipped our beer. Now there were four of us staring at sausages, and Griff gave me the nod, my cue. I was second-in-command, and I had to take the raw sausages out of the plastic bag and lay them on the barbecue; not too close together, not too far apart, curl them into each other’s bodies like lovers -fat ones, thin ones, herbed and continental. The chipolatas were tiny, they could easily slip down between the
grill, falling into the molten hot-bead-netherworld below. Carefully I laid them sideways ACROSS the grill, clever thinking. Griff snapped his tongs with approval; there was no greater barbecue honour.

P.J. came along, he said looking good, looking good -the irresistible lure of the barbecue had pulled him in too. We said yeah and did the shuffle, left, left, left, left, he slipped in beside Kevin, we sipped our beer. Five men, lots of sausages. Joel was the Fork-pronger; he had the fork that pronged the tough hides of the Bavarian bratwursts and he showed a lot of promise. Stabbing away eagerly, leaving perfect little vampire holes up and down the casing. P.J. was
shaking his head, he said I reckon they cook better if you don’t poke them.

There was a long silence, you could have heard a chipolata drop, and this newcomer was a rabble-rouser, bringing in his crazy ideas from outside. He didn’t understand the hierarchy; first the Tong-master, then the Sausage-layer, then the Fork-pronger -and everyone below was just a watcher. Maybe eventually they’ll move up the ladder, but for now - don’t rock the Weber.

Dianne popped her head in; hmmm, smells good, she said. She was trying to jostle into the circle; we closed ranks, pulling our heads down and our shoulders in, mumbling yeah yeah yeah, but making no room for her. She was keen, going round to the far side of the barbecue, heading for the only available space . . . the
gap in the circle where all the smoke and ashes blew. Nobody could survive the gap; Dianne was going to try. She stood there stubbornly, smoke blinding her eyes, ashes filling her nostrils, sausage fat spattering all over her arms and face. Until she couldn’t take it anymore, she gave up, backed off.

Kevin waited till she was gone and sipped his beer. We sipped our beer, yeah. Griff handed me his tongs. I looked at him and he nodded. I knew what was happening, I’d waited a long time for this moment - the abdication. The tongs weighed heavy in my hands, firm in my grip - was I ready for the responsibility?

Yes, I was. I held them up high and they glinted in the sun.

Don’t forget to turn the thin ones Griff said as he walked away from the barbecue, disappearing toward the house. Yeah I called back, I will, I will. I snapped them twice, SNAP SNAP, before moving in, prodding, teasing, and with an elegant flick of my wrist, rolling them back onto their little bellies. I was a natural, I was the TONG-MASTER.

But only until Griff got back from the toilet.

Take a break...while I take care of your home, your block, your pets, your stock! [;)] PM me...

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