First there is the trip to Kettle Range, not, you know, all that far away but a hike from my ‘hood to Wauwatosa which is pretty much the other side of the earth, literally and figuratively. Then there is putting the rub on them (I do not like doing this) and then a 36 hour wait while the rub festers. After that there is the dragging out of the charcoal grill (I have 2 grills, gas which is far easier and is connected to the gas in my house so it always there for me, and a charcoal grill in my garage for special occasions—I should do a taste test) and then there is the making of the fire. I use a chimney not lighter fluid. That chimney is freaking dangerous, and really annoying. Once the charcoal is on fire there’s dumping all those goddam hot coals into the grill and then the careful banking of the briquettes, the prepping/cleaning of the grill itself and then finally getting the damn shit on the grill.
Then begins the real anxiety. The looking, inspecting, smelling, fussing, hand wringing. It’s a wonder I get anything done.
These were fabulous.
Foe Kettle Range to be "literally" on the other side of the earth it would most likely need to be located somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.
Foe? Literally.