This post was planned to mark our very first grill purchase. Strapped for cash these days while I transition from school to work, we waited out our local Target and victoriously snagged a grill the other day for half-price. YUP--HALF. We waited them out and the arrival of our new grill onto our little back patio was all the sweeter for it. Of course, we were itching to get cooking.
I didn't purchase briquettes when I picked up the grill, fantasizing that John would be that spectacular combination of persnickety and salt of the earth that he sometimes offers up. He didn't have strong feelings about the charcoal, though, so today I stopped and picked up some standard stuff while running errands. He promised to develop feelings about what he's grilling over as the summer progresses. Obviously, we'll keep you posted. In the meantime, any suggestions?
Tonight was supposed to be the christening of our grill. Chicken kabobs with apricots, onion and zucchini (and chicken marinated in jerk seasoning, olive oil and lime juice) were on the menu, as was grilled asparagus. To say I was excited is probably an understatement. I was more like a kid who'd just found out Christmas just might pop up at the end of June this year. One of my absolute favorite things about being alive is grilling and sitting outside. For the first time in my adult life we have both the space and the equipment. We've got the grill (did I mention that already?), and Adirondack chairs, and strung white lights through the trees. We've got a little table and a patio and a nice stretch of grass with a little garden doing its darndest to grow. We've got it going on this summer, as far as I'm concerned. And tonight was supposed to be the moment it all finally came together.
Except it rained. From ten o'clock this morning on, the entire day has been relentlessly drenched. If you don't live in California you probably figure this is standard summer weather. But not us, not here. We're only supposed to get rain 6 months of the year. The other 6 are supposed to be gloriously and reliably dry. Summer falls in the dry 6, in case you were at all uncertain.
And so the chicken will stew in its juices a little bit longer, until tomorrow night. If it's raining then, I'm handing John a raincoat and umbrella and telling him I can't wait for dinner.