Don’t look now kids, but it’s summer time– and it’s time to GRILL OUT.
Grab your spatula, grab your pals and get ready to CHAR MEAT WITH FIRE. Let’s go over the basics for when you GRILL OUT.
*wolf howl* *guitar screech* *motorcycle flip*
Head Out the Door
First of all…GOTTA BE OUTSIDE! WOO! Ain’t called grilling in, is it, sonny? Fuck no, it ain’t.
*eagle screech* *piano crash* *space shuttle blast off*
Lot of people are gonna ask a supreme team grill master what you use as a fire-starter, propane or charcoal. You look them straight in the eye. Then punch them directly in the face. Yell, “BOTH, FRENCHIE. WHAT’S WITH THE QUESTION? YOU AIN’T MY DAD OR A COP.” Immediately apologize if they are either, cause a beef champion admits their mistakes. What’s never a mistake, though, is using every material the Good Lord and Heavyweight Champion of Deities James Jesus Christmas put on this Earth for burnin’ and churnin’. That why I only grill when that hi-bachi is chock full of briquettes, wood chips, newspaper and lighter fluid, with Sweet Lady Propane givin’ it the goose underneath. FLAMES IS MEANT TO BE HOT; SHINE BRIGHT LIKE A DIAMOND.
*tiger MMA-kicks a terrorist* *full roar*
Side Dishes: Come correct with chips (potato and tortilla), dips (salsa, guac and cheese), potato salad and macaroni salad. These are not entrées– DO NOT TREAT AS SUCH. THERE ARE CONSEQUENCES TO THE WAY WE ACT.
Vegetables: Somebody brings vegetables to grill, thank them. Then throw them directly in the garbage with all due speed. THIS AIN’T A FARMER’S MARKET, DEMETER, IT’S A B-B-Q. Meaning BEEF BURNED WITH QUICKNESS. Kick them out. Throw lit firecrackers at them so there is no confusion. Lose their number. Celebrate.
Corn On The Cob: ONLY VEGETABLE EXCEPTION. Honor their offering. Reward them with 8 beers. Grilled or boil and slather with butter and salt until the neighborhood declares you its rightful King.
Pairs well with 8-10 beers, all whiskeys, white wine for the fly honeys, soda for the kids. THEY ARE THE FUTURE.
Hamburgers: Yeahnowwetalkin’WHEREUBEENGIRL. The most American of Grill Meats. Ground chuck sirloin, no exceptions, grilled medium rare– because crispy meat is for dragons, but damn, you ain’t trying to poison people, weirdo. Flip 8 times each. Sprinkle with salt, pepper (cayenne if you a daredevil). Serve with mustard, ketchup, onions (VEGETABLES ON MEAT = ACCEPTABLE), sriarcha and Cholula (for international flavor) as options. Cheeses optional as well, because we ain’t fascists but recommend that shit cause we FANCY GENTLEMEN CONNISSEURS.
Pairs well with 12 to 22 beers, all whiskeys, red wine for fine ladies, soda for the kids. PROTECT THE YOUNG, YA ANIMAL.
*jackhammer* *Kid Rock high-five*
Hot Dogs: Truly the most American of Grill Meats, because what’s more American than eating something made out of a bunch of things you shouldn’t eat SHOT IN A MOTHAFUHCKIN TUBE? I know I said this about burgers. A true barbecue aficionado admits his errors. IT IS THROUGH OUR RECOGNITION OF FAULTS THAT WE FIND STRENGTHS *whipkick* *ninja stars*. Split the top and grill till you feel safe. And grill the buns too, cause WHO DON’T LIKE HOT BUNS? TOO EASY. *quiet mediation*
Serve with all condiments optional. Yes, even ketchup. SETTLE DOWN, SON. IT’S MY DOG, I’LL PUT CHOCOLATE AND BROKEN GLASS ON THAT BITCH IF I WANT TO.
Pair’s well with 25-46 beers, all whiskeys, all wines for sexy-ass mamacitas and soda for the kids. THEY ARE THE REASON FOR THE SEASON.
*8,000 Roman Candles*
Steak: KING OF MEATS. America is a democracy, but GAME RECOGNIZES GAME. Any and all cuts get seasoned up salt and pepper style and flipped twice. THAT’S IT. DO NOT DRAW ON THE MONA LISA. Pairs well with ALL THINGS EVERYWHERE. IT’S STEAK, THROW SOME TO THE DOG. HERE, BOY.
Keep your beers pale and plentiful (amber the darkest, barkeep, this ain’t Winterfell), your whiskeys and wines for best of friends and most charming of female companions, and have some ice cream sandwiches lying around for after, cause uuhhhhhhhhhh.. THEY DELICIOUS.
GET GRILLIN’. FO’ THE CHILDREN.
*best monster truck jump driver gets out… IT’S OBAMA*