It seems like things slow down when it rains all day like today. It made for a nice easy transformation back into the workweek, after four days of face-stuffing madness.
This old grill may not look like much.
It used to be a propane grill, a long time ago. I honed my modest grilling techniques as a teenager right on this very grill. I also burned my eyebrows one time or two. It's been in the family a long time. When the propane aspect of it began to give way years ago (broken gas line, I think), my father was all to ready to convert it to charcoal use. It's served us (him) in that capacity ever since.
To the untrained eye, it looks like an old rusty clunker, ready for the scrap heap and whatever pennies it's weight in metal could fetch. But actually it's a canvas. It's a canvas, and my dad is the artist. The master seen here:
From it he has consistently produced barbecued chicken and pork-chops, with such delectable spiciness, a vegan would beg for more. My son is a confirmed addict. We all are. Throw in lots of rice, lots of bread, and a BIG bowl of salad (which my sister might share with us), and we'd have the makings of a feast.
The tasty lunch inevitably followed by old Portuguese brandy and coffee/espresso. (The kids here only drank the legal limit).
The barbecuing at my parents' house serves as the rallying point for our family, as many weekends as is possible. This past Sunday was the final one for a while, they are going back to the old country for a few months. Until they return, my kid is stuck with my feeble attempts at keeping the chicken from turning into charcoal. (On a propane grill, of course.)