After a real outdoorsy weekend of camping, beach and river boat fun, I needed some alfresco closure on Sunday evening to make it feel complete. My veggie mate Louis and I decided to have a Barbeque in the warm Totnes sunshine. Old Lou Bags popped out to get the ingredients and I said in a manly fashion "I'll start the barbeque, by the time you get back the flames will have died down and It'll be ready for cooking". Using the sport section of Saturday's Guardian (I assume Louis wasn't going to read that bit) and some sticks, I built a fire. But for some reason the Guardian didn't want to burn, so I ended up putting petrol all over the cunting thing and it caught ablaze like a yeast infection.
So with my pathetic attempt at being a pyromaniac and Louis' lack of taste for flesh, we really weren't showing much respect for our neanderthal ancestors, or in fact man kind. But everyone can fuck off (especially Ray Mears), because our BBQ was so darn tasty. It may not of had big chunks of blood dripping animal flesh, it may have been lit with a dowsing of petrol, but putting those things aside, we made a meal so flippin' tasty.
On our mushrooms and chunky courgette slices we grated a few cloves of garlic, a bit of lemon zest & juice, a couple glugs of olive oil, salt & pepper and tossed it all in a hot wok for a few minutes to get things moving. Then after charing the veggies for a few minutes on a very hot barbeque, it was done. A mature cheddar, some black Kalamata olives, a few slices of griddled tiger bread and a Peroni, and I'm smiling, Louis is smiling, and it seemed the whole world was smiling back at us. Maybe my Totnes hippy roots are starting to show, and when they're fully grown, I'll shove 'em on the barbeque as well.