Everyone has one. An interest that evolves into obsession. A place where we revert for comfort. A labor of love that will never see retirement. A practice we would prefer to be engaged in over all else. Our personal truth. For me it is the grill.
The contemporary existence of the earliest method of cooking has lodged itself deep inside my obsessive cortex. The memories of backyard cookouts for all major holidays and other remarkable celebrations made the grill the symbolic center of good times. The Christmas like excitement when my father announced that he would be grilling chicken using my mothers homemade BBQ sauce for dinner that evening. My exposure level was dangerous by age 7. The terminal diagnosis followed a trip to Owensboro, Ky and the famous Moonlight BBQ. I had heard my folks discussing this destination with friends and the energy that engulfed the room upon its mention was intoxicating. In the establishment, enemies were friends, families gathered close, corners of mouths were closer to ears than normal, God was present. I was terminally infected.
I know no greater pleasure than that of recreating that experience for others. A moment in time where all is well and sustenance is a pleasure. I have spent my life to this point self-educating, testing, and honing practices of the grill. I share my knowledge with the hope that one family over one meal experiences the spiritual euphoria that is now permanently housed inside me. For Life.
Terminally Grill© 