Smoky Hair and Singed Lashes
I have a confession. In my backyard, you will find no less than eight (8) grills. The obsession began simply enough with a gas grill. It was easy to fire up when cooking some burgers and steaks. But, when I was asked to do a cooking demonstration at an outdoor patio and grill store in my hometown, I knew I would have to up the ante on my grill knowledge. That event would turn out to be my baptism by fire and, I’ve gone on to tame many fires in a variety of vessels, each possessing its own charm.
I never set out to be a “pit master,” the title given to those who truly devote their lives to stoking fires and precisely regulating temperatures to cook the perfect brisket or to delicately smoke vegetables. I’m fortunate to have some outstanding pit masters as friends, and I’m telling you, they live for playing with fire and smelling like smoke, even if they’ve just showered and shaved.
For me, playing with fire is a science, so I approached it like a student, buying a book and experimenting with charcoal. I bought one of those tall metal chimneys to get the coals red hot so they could be dumped into the grill. The first time I was ready to unleash the glowing-red embers, I noticed a few hot ashes fell from the bottom onto my feet. I noticed because I was wearing flip-flops, and my toes got singed. Luckily, I held it together and managed to not drop the coals and cause a house fire. It also taught me to be more conscientious about my footwear when grilling.
So, when I learned how to build a top-notch fire, I was ready to make my big grilling debut at the grilling store. When I walked through the front doors, it was like I had entered the Saks Fifth Avenue of grills. That day changed my life…and it also ended up costing me a lot of money!
The first grill I fired up was an OFYR, which uses wood as its fuel instead of charcoal. The wood is piled up in the center, and is encircled by a large metal cooking surface, giving you the option to cook on direct or indirect flames. It was magical. I cooked sausages, pork tenderloin, and stuffed mushrooms that would make any pit master’s mouth water.
Next to the OFYR was a massive charcoal grill with a ceramic interior. The size of this behemoth grill allowed me to whip up grilled pizzas and chicken wings at the same time. (I did it without sizzling any precious toes. Shoe selection – check!) That day we definitely sold some grills. And, over the course of a few months, a couple of those grills made their way to my backyard. They arrived gradually, and very inconspicuously, just like the shoes that mysteriously appear on the shelves of my closet. Much like shoes, it’s important to have a grill for every occasion.
After my first trip to India, I wanted to own a tandoor. I watched so many chefs and street vendors making bread and meats in their tandoors, and the flavors and the experience were unforgettable. I knew deep in my heart I needed a tandoor. After doing some research, I found one I could buy online from a company in Pennsylvania. It arrived at my house in a 300-lb wooden crate with wheels, and had to be dismantled by a friend who is far more mechanically inclined than I.
To this day, the tandoor is one of my most prized possessions. It’s been said that a proper tandoor chef has no hair on their arm. If that is true, then I must be quite proper. The tandoor is one of my most-used grills, and after slapping many, many rounds of naan dough on the wall of my tandoor, my right forearm is bare. I happily sacrifice every little hair knowing the joy it brings to serve stacks of steamy, soft naan to my friends and family.
As much as I love to grill outside, whether it’s the hottest day of the summer or during a snowstorm in January, I’ve yet to discover a trick for not smelling like a smoke stack. My hair is like a super sponge that absorbs the aromas of smoke and grilled meat in a matter of minutes. I try to outsmart the smoke by wrapping my hair in a towel to protect it from the wafting smoke, but it’s not foolproof. There may have been a few times I’ve forgotten the towel was still on my head as I opened the door for arriving dinner guests.
Unpredictable flames certainly make grilling a more dramatic way to cook, and I’ve provided some unintended entertainment at barbecues I’ve hosted. Once, I was cooking for a big outdoor party and, when I opened the grill to turn the meat, a flame scorched the hair around my face, leaving me with crispy hair twigs that took months to grow back. I’ve also lost more than a few eyelashes to the searing heat of a hot grill. Fortunately, I haven’t had any serious burns, and these minor mishaps haven’t prevented me from lighting the next fire.
It’s never been my goal to be a grill master; but as an avid grill appreciator, I’ll never tire from standing over a smoky pit of hot coals, watching my food absorb all the flavors that make the sweaty brow, the singed eyelashes and smoky hair worth all the trouble.
