Dr Dre once rapped about making it large, about driving fancy cars and no more living hard. He rapped about having barbecues every day. And wow. When I make it I am going to have a Barbecue every day. Every day. Every day I will wake up and the air will smell of sweet blossom, the sky will be a blistering azure and pretty girls will be cycling in their summer dresses.*
Until then, a barbeque is a fantastically rare and insanely exciting event. Whether it’s an illicit tesco-burgers-and-cans-of-cider-bbq-in-the-park, the soggy blitz spirit & brollies-out get-up or the full-on family affair, highly professional, replete with salad(!) and all of the neighbourhood Dads competing to see who can be most manly and master the flames, I love them. The smell of smoke in your hair and the smeared ketchup on your fingers. Nostalgic and silly, just wonderful.
With all of this balmy weather in London I leapt at the chance to cook, nay burn, my dinner outside. Rum and coke on ice? Check. Boom boom beef burgers ready to griddle? Check. Naughty cheesy coleslaw ready to scoff? Check. Halloumi kebabs (spiked with courgette and red onion, drizzled in a thyme, lemon and mustard glaze) assembled? Check. New freckles busily growing in the blistering sunshine? Check. Awesome summer playlist (we’re talking Paul Simon, Modest Mouse and a slice of Vampire Weekend..) on my iphone for some happy beats? Check.
Rock and roll! This was textbook BBQing. It was a little tipsy, I was a smite sunburnt, dare I say it the burgers were a tad overdone. I, perchance, ate more than I should have. Ahem. Yes, yes. This is how you do it. And isn’t it just the best. Maybe not for every day. I am no Dr Dre. But in the meantime even just once in a while is amazing. x
*Incidentally, when I make it large, in my fantasy, ALL men will keep their tops on in public – outside a lido – no matter if they have a real or imaginary gym hardbody. Ok fellas, just keep your shirts on yeah? Thanks.