I sail. I scuba dive. I drive across Mexico alone. One could consider these pretty adventurous things, right?
But, when it comes to normal stuff, I'm at a loss. Like, I don't own a hair dryer - when I get around to washing it, I just let it dry naturally. I don't own an iron or take clothes to the cleaners - if it can't get wadded up and tossed in a backback, I'm not wearing it. And, crazy as it may seem, I've never really used a grill on my own. I mean I've never bought one, filled it with charcoal, doused it with lighter fluid, let it get fiery and actually grilled something. It always seemed so intimidating. Well, once again feeling adventurous, I went and bought a grill. A simple black number that tucks away perfectly on my wee back patio.
Meanwhile, the first thing I chose to sling on there were some oysters I picked up at the farmers market. I've never even bought oysters, much less grilled them. Though I do love them and still contend that the best oysters I've ever, ever inhaled were roadside in a dusty backwoods village in Veracruz.
I tried shucking them before grilling them, only to have myself a fistful of blood within seconds. Tough as hell. So, on the grill they went. The first one that popped open was perfect. They end up poaching themselves in the oyster juice and I'd melted some butter (on the grill) and when dunked into the little vessel of sweet cream butter, well...it's like the 2nd coming of sea life. An ear of corn was tossed on for good measure. Again, so proud of myself. So mind-boggling how good food is when kept really clean.
The other 4 oysters stayed on the grill a spell longer (due to me forgetting about them - blame it on this book I was reading, Macedonia Passage, about a sailboat that has a stolen wad of money tucked into the bilge and is headed for Istanbul) and ending up almost BBQ'ing themselves. I ended up with a huge, 10 lb. charred mess of goodness for about a hummingbird sized bit of meat. So worth it though.
A grill is just another step toward freedom, I guess. I felt like such a bad-ass mastering it (sorta). Charcoal ashes are still in the bottom, but that is for another day.
