This is my weekly Hibbing Daily Tribune column for Sunday, May 25, 2008. I archive my columns at my writing page.
Grills, grills, grills!
I think it’s safe to say that summer has arrived. I thought that a while ago but then we got eight feet of snow with sustained winds of about a billion mph along the Iron Range (numbers based on my irrationally emotional memory). That’s really what separates us northern Minnesotans from the rest in the Midwest. We are never allowed to collectively believe in the end of winter without at least one climatological test of our faith and mettle. God keeps a wary eye on this place, as well He should.
The thoughts of many turn to meat this time of year. We bake and stew winter meat but summer meat is grilled – a primal method of cooking that involves open flames and vastly more masculine aprons. People have grilled a long time, since the beginning probably. If it weren’t for grilling, morning television news shows might have to go dark between the hours of 8 and 9 a.m. The “Today Show” cameras would simply train in on a sad Matt Lauer contemplating life in silence as the assembled street crowd chants angrily.
My own personal journey of grilling began when I went camping by myself after my senior year of high school. I hope that doesn’t seem as pathetic to you as it sounds. It was supposed to be a journey of self discovery, but the only real discovery I made was that, until then, I had never cooked a steak. Seriously! They don’t come cooked! In addition to being a greenhorn steak cooker, I was an incompetent camper. It took me an hour and half and a can of lighter fluid to get a fire going and then I simply cooked the darn steak over the removable grill provided with the campfire ring. Is that what it’s for? Or is it some kind of toilet seat for bears? All the camping I had done before was with groups of people who knew what they were doing. Anyway, grill or toilet seat, I cooked my first steak on it.
Years later, a married home-owner thus culturally expected to operate a backyard grill, I bought our first charcoal grill. Like the campfire steak, I never quite mastered the technique of getting the fire going evenly. I tried making “the pyramid” formation that the side of the charcoal bag suggested, counting the recommended number of charcoal briquettes. Hours went into the process, not much food came back out.
Over the years since, we’ve come to rely on the grilling of others – glomming on to people with sleek gas units or those with the mystical knowledge it takes to quickly build a charcoal fire. Our briquettes lay unused in the garage until I made the unwise decision this winter to use them as snowman eyes. (Note: do not attempt this. The charcoal absorbs the sunlight and melts the snowman’s face like those guys at the end of the first Indiana Jones movie). Now, with the good weather upon us, we’re thinking of taking the big step of getting (drumroll) our own gas grill, one simple enough to be operated by monkeys, large dogs and me.
Having our own grill will allow us to properly enjoy the season. It will also re-introduce an old argument that I often encounter around the grill, be it gas or charcoal. How rare is too rare? My answer is, “I reject the premise of the question!” I love rare cooked food, especially beef. Your so-called “medical doctors” would advise otherwise. Them with their fancy “book learning” would prefer you eat your meat well done and flavorless. I like a red-centered steak and a pink-middled burger. You might be worried about tapeworms but let me tell you that my tapeworm, Larry, is much more charming than you’d think. He did my taxes last year, too (don’t ask how; it’s truly appalling).
On that high note I wish you all a happy Memorial Day. Grill how you see fit.
Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune. Contact him or read more at his blog, www.minnesotabrown.com.
Sad to say, Aaron, but food safety, especially among meat products, is more an issue than ever. It seems farm raised beef just isn’t what it used to be, primarily due to the lack of a farm in the process. One result has been that our meat supply is suffused with truly dangerous bacteria that can only be killed with thorough cooking.
For a somewhat safer approach, buy your meat at one of the locally owned groceries where the meat department is operated by a local butcher. We all know who those are – they are mostly well known for the quality of the product they provide. Avoid meat that arrives in aseptic packaging, or, if you are forced by family budget to purchase this “product” please be sure to cook it until well done.
Some of the health hazards of undercooked meat are quite frightening. Don’t allow yourself to be a victim.