Charcoal

Grilling with charcoal is a messy enterprise. Soot before and ashes after, with flames and smoke and grease in between. The grates never return to truly clean, and I look at the showroom condition of new grills with the envy I used to reserve for a sparkling new car. And yet I find tremendous satisfaction in doing what my father did, taking up the challenge of cooking for friends and family over a hardly regulated flame and eye-stinging smoke. Our tools and techniques are different, though the simple Weber grill at the core is identical. My father keeps the temperature of the coals lower, uses more indirect heat, and has the patience to cook an entire roast to well-done. I like a quick searing flame, the drips from marinades and meats converted directly to smoke, and the risk of scorching dinner if I let my attention wander for more than a minute. My father closes the lid over the grill during cooking and uses the vents on the lid to control the air flow. I'm convinced the lid is mostly a decorative accessory that keeps leaves from accumulating on the grate between uses. Yet standing in front of the grill brings back plenty of childhood summer evenings, and I feel that I am honoring my father through this simple act of preparing food outdoors. And as we sit down to eat, I offer a quick and silent thanks for his example.