Now quite what gives guys the mistaken belief that they have the necessary skills to essentially light a fire outdoors and cook a tasty meal on it I cannot quite work out. It is especially baffling when you consider the complete lack of ability displayed in the kitchen at all other times, despite being presented with a machine which can be pre-programmed to the correct temperature and time required to cook dishes precisely. Somehow an oven is considered to be a woman's tool and the kitchen very much their domain but outdoors? well that's a different matter.Men it seems find the urge to revert to their old hunter gatherer roots which means they pick up a box of matches, tuck a 'Ray Mears goes wild' pocket book into their shorts and head out to 'light up'.
This of course should be relatively straightforward but the handy book only covers lighting a fire using two sticks and a piece of vine used as string so it's quickly discarded and lighting cubes are deployed and lit and our outdoor hero stands back and awaits the fire to take hold and grow. However he has reckoned without the toll a miserable damp winter has had on the briquettes which having resided in the far from watertight shed have absorbed enough moisture to make them resemble small black water melons and make lighting them an act of the purest optimism as they steadfastly refuse to burn. Various accelerants are then poured on in an effort to speed up the lighting process which only results in three guests needing checking over at the local emergency department suffering the effects of smoke inhalation.
Eventually though because of all the flammable liquids administered an inferno develops and cooking commences but this serves to incinerate the outside of the burgers while leaving the inside rawer than an egg just leaving a chickens bottom so the 'chef de partie' leaves the meat on the fire until resembling charcoal. Those guests still remaining relatively well perfused with oxygen then tuck in, nodding their heads appreciatively and various murmurings can be heard complimenting the salad and the bread rolls;
"Oh" says the wife playing coyly with a tousel of hair, "Its just something I knocked up quick with some bits from Waitrose"
A loud tut is heard from our man but despite his best efforts the only feedback the Barbie Meister gets is 'You don't half look funny without eyebrows'
This of course rankles him immensely, so he does what all self respecting Alpha males would do in such a situation;
He removes his apron, opens another can of extra strong lager and gently lobs 'Ray Mears goes wild' on to the now dying embers. The outdoor Masterchef hereby resigns!
This of course should be relatively straightforward but the handy book only covers lighting a fire using two sticks and a piece of vine used as string so it's quickly discarded and lighting cubes are deployed and lit and our outdoor hero stands back and awaits the fire to take hold and grow. However he has reckoned without the toll a miserable damp winter has had on the briquettes which having resided in the far from watertight shed have absorbed enough moisture to make them resemble small black water melons and make lighting them an act of the purest optimism as they steadfastly refuse to burn. Various accelerants are then poured on in an effort to speed up the lighting process which only results in three guests needing checking over at the local emergency department suffering the effects of smoke inhalation.
| "What do you mean 3 people have collapsed?" |
Eventually though because of all the flammable liquids administered an inferno develops and cooking commences but this serves to incinerate the outside of the burgers while leaving the inside rawer than an egg just leaving a chickens bottom so the 'chef de partie' leaves the meat on the fire until resembling charcoal. Those guests still remaining relatively well perfused with oxygen then tuck in, nodding their heads appreciatively and various murmurings can be heard complimenting the salad and the bread rolls;
"Oh" says the wife playing coyly with a tousel of hair, "Its just something I knocked up quick with some bits from Waitrose"
A loud tut is heard from our man but despite his best efforts the only feedback the Barbie Meister gets is 'You don't half look funny without eyebrows'
This of course rankles him immensely, so he does what all self respecting Alpha males would do in such a situation;
He removes his apron, opens another can of extra strong lager and gently lobs 'Ray Mears goes wild' on to the now dying embers. The outdoor Masterchef hereby resigns!
