HUNK’A BURNING LOVE
Text+photography by Jim Hensley
My father objected to grilling. He
flat out refused to participate in
what the other men on the block
saw as a ritual nearly as powerful
and sacred as Super Bowl Sunday.
Generally speaking, Dad avoided any cooking the same
way most men avoid wearing their wives’ summer frocks…
and largely for the same reasons. But where most men
were willing to place the grill in their own masculine
realms, my father’s borders were more tightly guarded.
He never actually said it like that, of course. Being openly
chauvinistic would have been dangerous–Mom was
slightly hot-tempered and good with knives. So he simply
proclaimed grilling to be primitive… barbaric, even.
GRILL FOOD may not be the
mark of HIGH-CULTURE
GOOD BOTTLE OF WINE.