By mouth{JT}

Barbecues: The Matter of the Meat

I hate barbecues – I mean really hate them – and it’s all about the food.

Apart from restaurants, which I can be a little bit picky about, I’m not going to eat other people’s food. I’m just not. It’s not happening, period. I am convinced I will be sick. So on that score, barbecues would be the worst form of torture there is. Let’s face it – it’s food of a dubious nature (mostly steak and sausages) being cooked very badly by people that shouldn’t be in charge of a lighter, let alone an open flame.

There are two forms of barbecue meat: Raw to the point it’s running around your plate, or so charred that cinders get stuck in your teeth. It’s accompanied by badly made, tossed together lettuce leaves (that have wilted while waiting for the meat to cook) and – ugh – tomatoes, that kind of – maybe – resembles a salad on a bad day. I can’t eat that. I just can’t, and no amount of bribery is going to put a smile on my face. So I used to avoid them and stay home, pretending I had leprosy – or worse. Then came one I couldn’t get out of, and it hit me: Why not take my own food? Food that I like, and could pretend it was part of a contribution to the event. If I took food I liked, then at least there would be something for me to eat, and I wouldn’t have to pretend to have just eaten – or that I had gone vegetarian for that day only.

And that’s exactly what I did.

Hmmm – what to make.

Oh, I know: Kebabs!

So I would get up early and make kebabs- bacon and banana ones that I could pretend were “for the children”. I’d precook the bacon, chop and soak the banana in lemon juice, soak my sticks in cold water, and get to work threading these guys up. I’d make a pile of them until the bacon ran out and carefully fold them under some tin foil, only to be met with, “Ew! Bacon and banana? Ew!” from the adults. I’d just smile and say, “For the kids.”

“Oh, well, I might as well try one seeing as how I’m waiting for the sausage to – Wow! These are so good. Yum!”

And before I’d know it, the other adults would be hooking into my little guys with cries of, “God, these are good. Got any more?” I’d just smile inwardly to myself, knowing I’d already had mine at home – and I’d kept a plate back for the kids, guarding them ferociously.

I don’t do desserts either. I’m not going to eat tinned fruit. It’s non-negotiable. So, once again, I had to make something. Now, my favourite is cherries, and I could eat my own body weight in cherries – just not the tinned kind. They’ve got to be fresh. So – thinking, thinking, thinking. Ah-ha! Got it: Cherries half-dipped in chocolate. It ain’t even hard to do – warm the chocolate, leaving the stalks on the cherries for holding as you dip, then set aside to firm up. In between eating them myself, I made a huge pile both of those, and strawberries dipped in chocolate, too. They’re basically the same thing. I prettied up the plate with a few basil leaves, and – ta -da!

“Hm. Bit posh, ain’t it?” was the comment I got when the plate was offered around. Um, no! Cherries dipped in edible gold leaf, surrounded by thinly sliced truffles soaked in wine, would be a bit posh – but I said nothing; just laughed to myself as the “Oohs” and “Ahhs” started coming out.

When it came time to collect my very empty plates and go home, I got stopped with, “Oh, hey. Next time, do you think you could do more of those bacon and banana thingies? They were good – and, oh, yeah! The cherries, too. I never had those before. They were really good.”

I laughed as I was driving home, about people not going outside their own comfort zones. They’re so eager to judge something without even trying it, that they settle for less than they want because they’re too scared to try anything new.

Next time I might do a salad as well, and – god forbid! – put some feta cheese and pomegranate arils in a spinach salad.

Even I can eat that.