Sunday, August 2, 2009
Throwing Down an Oven Mitt
R and I have lovely friends. There's a core group of eight couples and we like to get together at certain times through the year. Last night we got together for a BBQ hosted by Mr and Mrs C at their lovely home with a swimming pool and room for a pony. Lately, it seems as though there must not be a gathering without the men partaking in some sort of competition. Last night the event was Who Can BBQ the Best Steak. There were numbers drawn, a couple of trust-worthy people secreted in the kitchen to cut up samples, sheets handed out with a grading system and a teen with excellent math skills to calculate the submitted points. Toward the end, I felt a little like Geraldine Granger from The Vicar of Dibley trying to eat just one more brussel sprout at Christmas Lunch. All of the steaks were delicious but sadly, I have to report that R's steak did not achieve a top three position. Not to worry though, in September we'll be doing it all over again at our Ribfest. R made a trophy for that one and he's quite determined that it will grace our mantle this year. He took a sterling silver piggy bank and mounted it on an old soccer trophy that he bought at a charity shop, the player on top was done away with. The trophy is affectionately referred to as 'The Porker'. Heaven help me.