Son of Pigdog graduated from high school yesterday, and I was invited to a celebration BBQ at his girlfriend’s house tonight. Son of Pigdog’s girlfriend, not Pigdog’s girlfriend. I don’t think his wife would have approved. Pigdog’s wife, not his son’s… Oh, never mind.
So I get there and find myself in an unusual situation. I’m not on the hook to cook anything, and I don’t really know how to behave. That lasted about 10 minutes, and then I got drafted. To cook the burgers. See if you can guess which grill I was assigned to…
That’s Pigdog prepping the hotdogs. In other words, he’s opening the package prior to throwing them on the OTS on the left. That big monster gasser on the right was my assignment for the evening. And in spite of my disinclination towards using a gasser, I didn’t embarrass myself. I even managed to get a picture of one batch of burgers as they were ready to be removed from the grill.
Nice grill marks, if I do say so myself. And no hockey pucks were served, in spite of having temps in the 700+ range ( especially after the grease from the burgers ignited). No one complained, no one got sick, and the guy that was originally supposed to man the grill got to go socialize with his buddies.
In other words, everybody won.
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Oh no, a gasser! Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do!
Think of it as taking one for the team. I keep telling everyone I don’t know anything about gassers, but they keep insisting I cook on foreign ones anyway.
I was there. The burgers were great.
That first paragraph had me cracking up. “Who’s on first?”
700f, that is one hot gasser.
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