Having just celebrated our 34th wedding
anniversary on May 19, some of our differing opinions seem to have been
amplified. In this case, I’m referring to our difference of opinion on grilled
food.
For the last 34 years we’ve had a charcoal grill. For the sake
of transparency, it’s all about me. I love the taste of charcoal grilled meats.
Especially beef. Steak. New York Strip Steak to put a name to it.
Years ago, Dan worked for a local catering company who
managed one of the food venues at Summerfest. After a slow afternoon the
manager let some of the staff go home early. Dan, who was manning the grills,
got caught in a dinner rush. The inhalation of excessive grill smoke caused
some sinus damage and he’s had an unfair bias against charcoal ever since. I’ve
held my ground.
Several weeks ago, after Dan’s 33+ years of
complaining about charcoal I agreed that, yes, it might be time to get a gas
grill. He leaped at the opportunity and bought a low-end propane model from
Lowe’s. This was the answer to world peace! The maiden voyage of New York strip
steaks was awesome. The extra filets he cooked up for Caesar Salad later in the
week were perfection. The second grilling session was turkey breast. Again,
wonderful!
Yesterday, burgers. I, having just gotten up from a Friday
night nap, had no idea that Dan was outside struggling with the grill. The oven
timer on the fries alerted me that Dan needed to know the sides were done. I
yelled out the window and he replied back (and I know this was extremely difficult)
that the NEW GAS GRILL was NOT working. How could this be? A gas grill was the
answer to world peace! It was, in Dan’s eyes, 42 (the answer to the Ultimate
Question of Life, The Universe, and Everything)!
He came in with three raw burgers (I do love raw beef with
rye bread, raw onions and pepper) and threw them in the frying pan I’d hastily placed on top of the stove. Excuse me, I could
not help but gloat that the gas grill was not perfection.
And then I remembered a story Dan had told me about his
grandparents, Ray and Alma. His Grandpa Ray, along with great uncle Tony, had
started digging a new well on the family farm. And Alma. along with her sister
Martha, Tony’s wife, decided that they had had enough for one day and wanted
their husbands to quit – and the men wouldn’t, because of course they knew
best. Dan’s grandma and sister
proceed to pull the ladder out of the well and went into the house to cook up
some dinner. The two men shouted
for awhile, then had to dig in some steps to climb out for the night. Passionate opinions are the stuff of
marriage.
I apologized to Dan for gloating that his gas grill was not
the answer to world peace. After all these years he is still the love of my life and differences
of opinion are the spice of a successful marriage. I didn’t leave him stranded
in a well, but I’m expecting a fool-proof natural gas line to our outdoor grill
in Key West, with a back-up Smokey Joe.
