From the Archives of Scoop Jackson
Hello Everyone! This is Scoop Jackson, Investigative Camping Reporter, here to tell you Strange but True Tales of Camping. First, I have to thank Bob of love2camp for his great wisdom in putting me on the air...so to speak. More importantly, Bob has done you a great service. You see, there are dangers out there in the camping world, and sometimes confusion. What should be a relaxing experience can often turn to tragedy. That's why I'm here to help. For now, let's start with the basics:
LP Gas or Charcoal Cooking--a Discussion.
____________________________________________
BURNT OFFERINGS: THE THRILL OF BBQ, THE AGONY OF Da' MEAT
Camping is fresh air and relaxation and a roaring fire and
Yes food!
Back in the prehistoric Charcoal Era, times were simple. You took your round black Weber kettle and you cooked your food. More often than not, this also involved alcohol. That was fine. You eventually got to eat. Then we got modern, and had to be fast. There was no time for that one last beer or cocktail. I too belatedly joined the fast-track style of grilling out.
The first time I read the instructions on how to assemble my new gas grill, I was confused. One reason was the 500+ parts included, none of which resembled in any way the drawings in the manual, which looked like a bad copy of a child's stick-figure drawing. Also, the instructions were in Japanese, even the English version ("insert to Part 39 top lid casting with two clevis pins and two hair pins, not included"). But my initial confusion was the huge Spider Warning on the first page. I admit, it scared me.
Was it warning me not to eat spiders? OK, no problem. But maybe giant Japanese spiders, probably poisonous, might be inside the carton. Being Japanese, did they have radioactive Godzilla-like powers? Then I read further, and found I should make sure these spiders had not, or ever will, infest the 'Venturi Tubes'.
This sounded like some 'female' thing, so I asked Mrs. Scoop if her 'Venturi Tubes' had been infiltrated lately, and she promptly slapped me, stating: "How would you know, you slacker?" So I had to remedy that particular problem immediately, and that's why this column is a little late. Sorry.
Anyway, if spiders do infiltrate your Venturi Tubes--which by the way, for you ignoramus beer-swilling males out there who don't put the toilet seat back down, are the tubes hidden way under your gas grill that supply the gas that you ignite--they will hide in them. So you should always inspect the Venturi Tubes as often as required, or you will get slapped. Trust me on this.
If they--the spiders, probably Japanese--do get 'homey' in your 'Tubes', their webs, apparently with the tensile strength of hardened steel cables, could cause a massive explosion when the Igniter Button is pushed. This, by the way, would make an excellent Star Trek movie:
Mr. Spock: "Captain, data shows the Giant Radioactive Japanese Spiders have managed to infest our Venturi Tubes."
Captain Kirk, swiveling in his chair: "No radioactive spider is going to take command of my ship! Scotty, fire the Igniter!"
Scotty: "Captain, there's too much pressure! The Venturi Tubes, they no canna' stand the pressure! They're gonna' blow!"
Anyway, this problem has never bothered me a bit. That's because, out of the 20 or so BBQ gas grills I have purchased in my lifetime, not one--and I'm not kidding--has ever had an Igniter that has lasted more than two days. My phony lava rocks--now 'upgraded' to white squares with holes in them for "better air-flow"--are always littered with piles of burnt matches. This brings us to today's first SAFETY TIP:
Always use the built-in Igniter to start your flames!
Ha-ha-ha just kidding! No, the Safety Tip is to stand as far away as possible when flicking your matches into the grill in hopes of igniting the flames. However, this Safety Tip will not always work, due to
#1) You throw matches like a sissy, or
#2) Those four or five pre-dinner drinks you've had make you brave like Squirrel, but dumb like Moose, so you get right up there, figuring your cat-like reflexes will enable you to dart out of harm's way as the flames, powered by five minutes' worth of escaping LP gas, erupt to a height of seven or eight feet. Many eyebrows and knuckle-hairs have been lost in action this way. So I don't recommend it.
Another method would be to use maybe ten feet of fuse, the type commonly found in sticks of dynamite. You could actually make this sort of an Olympic ceremony thing: you hit the boom-box and the opening strains of "2001: A Space Odyssey" fill the air. The expectant crowd is slightly nervous--they can smell an odor of LP gas in the air. You light a match, one of those foot-long wooden ones. You hold the match aloft, then dramatically raise it to the end of the wick tied high above you.
The wick sizzles and snorts its way down the trajectory, headed for the grill. That sweeping majestic horn part of the "Odyssey" song fills the air. The grill ignites and the crowd is on their feet, cheering madly. This is Barbecuing at its finest, Folks!
SAFETY TIP #2: Remove the dynamite from the wick before attempting this stunt.
.
You can also try another sure-fire method, especially if you've vowed to never put together another Christmas present for the kids ever again, certainly not a bicycle: Buy pre-assembled!
Ha-ha-ha--just kidding! That's because I already tried this sure-fire method by tossing my old grill on the street and driving vigilantly to a large 'Lumber Yard/Everything Else' type of store and buying a pre-assembled gas grill. The clerk was very helpful, but being in the middle of a big store filled with shoppers, I was not able to fully test all the functions of the grill, especially the Igniter.
Do I need to go any further with this? Sure, the Igniter for the fancy attached soup-cooker thing ignited instantly. I felt proud. But how about those main Igniters, eh? Not a chance, pal...
IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I could have taken the grill back right then, but it would have interfered with my pre-dinner cocktail hour. And the grill was sold "as is". Besides, I'm no sissy. I throw matches like bullets.
.
OK, now that we have the grill ignited in one way or another, let's cook!
However, that presents another problem area, at least for me. On any given weekend, at any campground, you see men of all sorts expertly grilling food. How do they do it? I mean, some of these guys I wouldn't let plunge my toilet, yet they become Master Chefs at the campsite grill. Yes, there are many men who are indeed experts. But let's face it, the only obvious answer to some of these other guys' skills is that they've either been:
But then there are the rest of us, and somehow, I'm just not making it in the BBQ Winners' Circle. Just last night I ruined $45 worth of steaks and Jumbo shrimp. Mrs. Scoop put it very succinctly: "You can't grill, you never have been able to grill, and you never will be able to grill!"
You know, she might be right. So that's why I'm impressed when I see regular people with all their teeth coolly whipping together feasts that include grilled steaks and chops and chicken plus breads and salads and pasta. I'm sure you see it all around you, too: BBQ talent galore. I am envious.
.
In another near-famous grilling incident, at least in my mind, my good friend John VanHorn arrived at a backyard party of mine. Many people had to be fed, there were twenty steaks to be grilled, and, of course, my grill would not (ALL TOGETHER NOW!) IGNITE!
But quickly wheeling over my beat-up backup grill and hooking up a spare tank of gas, John threw all twenty steaks in a pile on the 3-foot surface of the grill, sort of like a pyramid of meat. I must explain at this point that John and I had been golfing, and we have Three Rules of Golf: 1) We don't walk--we must have carts. 2) We bet on every hole. 3) We drink a lot of beer.
So the famished crowd was a bit doubtful that they would be fed anything edible from this pyramid of meat. But steak by steak, John sorted them out and twenty minutes later we were all feasting on some fine T-bones.
So why can't I do that?
It must be that as a child I was frightened in some way by a grill, or a hamburger. I don't know. But I do recall a more recent incident, in which many brats and hot dogs were seriously injured.
My little town of Milton, WI has an annual Chicken BBQ and Arts and Crafts Fair. It is justifiably famous and well-attended. Many years ago, for the first time, it was decided to also serve brats and hot dogs. I volunteered to cook, and enlisted the help of several good people, one of them being another good friend, John K. (last name withheld for safety reasons). We set up next to the Milton Fire Department table, where they were roasting corn to sell later.
First, by dawn's early light, I helped set up the grills for the chicken. I think it was raining, but I definitely remember there was a problem keeping the charcoal lit. A "special flammable liquid" was brought in to speed up the process. I noticed that it worked very well--the charcoal was just right in a very short length of time, and all was well. John arrived a bit later, and we concentrated on our brats and hot dogs.
This went fine, until the first batch was done. Some devilish fiend had surreptitiously planted a cooler of cold beer in the back of my pickup truck. John and I, backs to the grill, trying to hide because no beer was allowed in the park, were discussing many important topics, one of them being the taste of a cold beer when grilling out, when John noticed that the coals needed reviving.
Now, People, I stand before you and swear that I did not pour the "special flammable liquid" on the charcoal after we loaded the grill with the 2nd batch of brats and dogs. I do know that it took a while for the "special flammable liquid" to take effect. I also know that John and I were enjoying another cold beer when there was a loud cry of "Fire!".
And to this day we are grateful to the five Milton Firefighters and two Paramedics, all of them in BBQ aprons, who left their corn roaster and dashed over with a hose to put out the blaze that unfortunately destroyed 30 brats and 20 hot dogs. Actually, "destroyed" is not the proper term, since John fed many of the brats and dogs to his since-departed horse Ned, and brought the rest to a pot-luck dinner the next week. All of those people are still alive.
So, you see, I have a perfectly good excuse for being grill-deficient. It's self-inflicted bad karma, or maybe a feng shui thing. My grill is not aligned with the stars, or the natural forces of nature, or whatever. So I'm going to fix this right now. In ten minutes I am going to take my non-working LP-gas grill right back to the store and demand a replacement that works, even though I bought this grill at the beginning of April, and it looks sort of ugly by now. Just to be sure, I'm taking Mrs. Scoop with me. She can be a terror. I'll let you know how this turns out as soon as I get back
(ELAPSED TIME: 1 Hour. Extra minimal damage inflicted to grill when it tipped over in the back of the truck on the way. Most loose parts recovered along highway.)
Well, I must admit it went very well. Mrs. Scoop didn't need to terrorize any clerks or managers I explained why I was returning the grill, and I got my money back, no problem. Then we returned to the grill aisle and looked at replacements. I glanced briefly at a shiny brushed-metal deal for $699 and quickly averted my eyes. Then we looked at the same model we had returned. We looked at every LP-gas grill there. Then Mrs. Scoop looked deep into my grilling-deficient eyes, and I knew the answer. I bowed to her wishes and bought what she wanted, clever man that I am.
And now the new grill awaits. It was pre-assembled, so my set-up time was zero. The steaks are marinating, the corn is soaking in salt water, a salad has been made. All I need to start the grill is right at my fingertips a fresh bag of charcoal and a match. My 'Igniter' comes in a squeeze-bottle. I am BBQ Man--hear me roar! (And my instruction manual has no Spider Warnings--we charcoal men just fry those suckers right up!). There is of course a downside to reverting back to a charcoal grill. No, it's not my pride even Dirty Harry says a man has to know his limitations. What it is, is the extra time spent waiting for the coals to be just right. Me, I see the silver lining in all of this:
My cocktail hour just got extended another 40 minutes.
Cheers, everyone!
____________________________
See more 'Scoop' at www.scoopjackson.net . Thanks, Bob!