Things you don't plan for on vacation.

While staying in the Black Hills, renting a cabin, and finding your way to a slower, relaxed pace, it is vital to remember that grilling on a gas grill is nothing like using a charcoal grill.  Charcoal is friendly, controllable, warming pile of gray companions, little red smiles blinking through, gently caressing your cheeseburgers with tender warmth, motherly love.

Gas declares war on your dinner.  Lighting with an intimidating  whoosh of vaporized petroleum, it singes meat with deadly efficiency, and terrible purpose.  Whatever you do, don't turn your back on a gas grill, or run inside to grab one more beer.  It is a decision you will regret when you serve your cabin mates little blackened bricks, with a golden coat of perfectly melted cheese.

Saying the whole time, "I just turned my back for a second, and the grill went nuclear. I swear! Would you like some ketchup with your tiny, black rocks?  Boy, that cheese sure makes a nice contrast to the blackened, slightly grey exterior, doesn't it?  Almost too pretty to eat."

But, there was still some food value in the clumps of what was almost ash.  And if people are hungry enough, polite and don't know you very well you can come out with your grilling reputation intact, more or less.

One thing that eases the pain a little is a good breakfast with lots of hot, tasty coffee, bacon, eggs, toast, and real butter. But, don't tell your doctor.

Vacation can be murder to a diet, and an exercise routine. Riding in a car for endless hours, trying to drink water instead of delicious, carbonated soda, and not snack too much. Fast food for lunch, and restaurant, or diner breakfasts add up to a several small losses in the war on aging.  Returning to work, and the gym will be a chore.

But, when the view from your cabin looks like this it is worth it.  The Black Hills are a dark, wonderful, magical place, covered in pine, and ancient spirits. It is a paradise for the sense, the pine,  and the decay, the birds singing in trees that are dancing in a gentle breeze. The sights and smells of heaven.  This is not our first trip, and with any luck it won't be our last.

Grilling, An Evolutionary Imperative.

A charcoal grill is a man's tool.  Using fire and red hot, ash covered embers to cook raw meat, char sliced vegetables, and toast frozen garlic bread is a sacred rite.  Billowing smoke and the smell of seared food is a time machine, transporting the tong bearer back to ancient times, when man used his barbecue fork to hunt and kill his own steak, or burgers, or bratwurst.

Times were a lot tougher in those days, roving packs of spicy sausages would wait in ambush for an unsuspecting lower middle class, blue collar, or in some cases line supervisory personnel. For many years it was uncertain which species would survive and which would fade into insignificance.

For years the battle raged on, and on, hunter, hunted, sausages, grill owners, entire villages were laid bare, and several unique cultures disappeared so completely that their favorite desserts are unknown, even today.  It was a bitter, awful fight that seemed like it would go on forever.

Man would venture into the wilds, armed only with a two pronged fork, and a war hammer fashioned from a branch, a rock and some twine that grew wild on the now extinct cotton string tree in pursuit of dinner.  Too often he would not return.  When the family went to look for him they would find only his skirt (yes men wore skirts in those days, and they could be quite festive, depending on the occasion, but for hunting they preferred your earth tones, or a simple nature inspired pattern... well, it doesn't matter what they wore), his fork and a trampled box of wooden, strike anywhere kitchen matches.

For a long time it seemed like the two mortal enemies would battle until the end of time.  Rapid advances in refrigeration, seasonings, disposable lighters, and charcoal technologies gave humanity the upper hand.  Next time you are trying to decide what to have for dinner, reach back, call on the primal urges that are hidden deep under your civilized veneer, grab a beer and throw something on the grill.  Resist the urge to put on a skirt, though, we are not animals, after all.