From Mind To Meat And Sizzle

Think of your best barbeque. You know the one - small, intimate affair with good food, drink and friends. The type that doesn't spiral into a gorgy of burnt yet partly cooked food and flat drink. The type that doesn't end up with sticky, gooey fingers and oily faces. The type that doesn't end up in odd pockets of conversation-less strangers who are too tired or bored to entertain themselves. Or possibly worse still, the type where people eat and disappear. The perfect barbeque doesn't happen often does it?

Four people on a day before a holiday had a plan. A plan for meat and spot of madness. It was probably a smidgen of heavy lunch and memories of barbeques gone by that spurred us to take action. I found out we could use the building rooftop for a little hibachi-driven event. "Don't burn down the building, don't destroy the waterproofing, and no dancing!" Yes, maam.

The gears were set in motion. Maybe rain or the lack of attendees could dent plans. And it was going to be Good Friday. Woof.

Mere hours before the do, I did the food. And the list went like this:
- hotdogs (it's no bbq without one!)
- chicken fillet in lemon, salt and pepper (which got spiked later in the evening!)
- pork chops in apple juice, garlic and soya sauce
- lamb, pre-marinated in pepper from the supermarket
- apples, sliced and coated w sugar
- sweet potatoes
- red peppers

With chips, ice cream, wings, bananas, chocolate and many drinks to boot, we were indeed set. I of course arrived unfashionably late.

The partee went on smashingly. We didn't break anything. We had a dog that came to lend some more energy to the shindig. There was some semblance of dancing - we figured a load capacity of 100 people standing was equal to less than a fifth of that number attempting dance. The full moon rose 30 degrees in the sky first sizzle to final wash up. Nicely done. Roof on fy-uh.