As you can imagine, I failed to remember these two important facts at Luke's barbeque tonight, and so I'm currently dripping onto my keyboard. Luckily, it was a lovely day today, so the rain was more cool and refreshing rather than "you will die of exposure before the third roundabout". And a Yay! for my Dad for making me a mug of hot chocolate when I finally stumbled in through the garage door.
Yes, it's barbeque season once more. This is the short period of time from June to August when you can sometimes safely cook outside for five hour periods without getting soaked. There are certain traditions about our barbeques. The first is that my friend Gavin always does the cooking. I'm not quite sure how it started, but none of us would even think about usurping his position (mainly because he's really good at it). Gavin has a tendency to cook everything in sight, so it's a wise idea to hide a few things to prevent him from cooking all the food in the first hour. The second tradition is that there is always, always too much food. At the end of the night, there's normally a plateful of sausages left uneaten (they're nasty things, so I understand why). The third tradition is that if the event is held at my house, then I am honour-bound to make my Mexican dish (Chorizo Enchiladas). Before I left for America last year, I gave the recipe to Gavin, only to be told "it's far too complicated. You have to make it." So in the next few weeks, it'll make a return, along with my experiments with Carolinian BBQ sauces. I'm calling Greenpeace and the EPA in advance, just in case something goes horribly wrong.