A Job Well Done

This month Olly Mann laments the challenges of hosting a peak-season barbecue

- Olly Mann

At my house, I’ll have you know, barbecue season begins in late March, thank you very much, and is extinguished only in early November. And, actually (to use a meaty metaphor), I prefer the shoulder season. When I offer my guests kebabs at Easter time, they are pleasantly surprised, and typically delighted, to serenade the holiday with cubes of grilled meat (lamb, usually. Rabbit feels a bit on the nose). When Halloween hits, I wheel out my toasted marshmallows, and it’s a joyous festive treat! But midsummer barbecues? I can feel my stress levels rising just thinking about them…

For one thing, barbecuing in the summer attracts spectators. I am a capable enough cook, but—as with my parallel parking and tennis serves—the presence of an audience directly discounts my ability to impress. There’s enough to deal with as it is: balancing three incredibly sharp objects, unsure which has been used to prick raw meat and which was intended for the cooked stuff; preventing my kids from running right into the flames as they chase balloons and bubbles around the garden; trying to divert my own blood, dripping from my fingers thanks to said sharp objects, from erroneously brining the burger patties.