Better the Weber you know.

Today I'm writing about my BBQ. In keeping with today's Lounge theme. Which is BBQ. I know, I'm such a creative person.

Ole RoboMum is hosting today - check her post out and all the other peeps too!

So we have a BBQ. It's a Weber kettle arrangement. Not gas. Wood or heat beads.

We got it a few years ago. M was dead keen on getting this type. I wanted a gas BBQ. You know, so we could USE it and stuff. As it is, we have this bloody thing that you have to fire up at least eleventy hours before you want to eat, or there's nothing doing. The first time we used it we had friends over and we didn't get our laughing gears round our snags and chops until about 10pm.

I mean the whole bloody POINT of a barbie queue is to just, like, chuck a couple of steaks on and, you know, two minutes later you've got yourself a low carb dinner for minimum fuss!

Fucking disappointing frankly. It caused no end of tension between my beloved and I. Stupid thing.

It's somewhat better now we've realised that the strength of the Webber is as a sort of oven. You can cook a mean roast chook in it that's for certain. Still, we can cook a mean chook in our proper oven too so I'm still not totally convinced of its charms.

One of the endearing things about this particular Weber is that when we bought it, it came with a "gift with purchase". 

Observe...

This recipe book is one of the more hilarious things I've had the pleasure of owning. It is an Ode to the Weber. The authors are Hardcore Weber Devotees. THEY ARE WEBER EVANGELISTS!

Behold them in all their glory.

Brash young barbecue salesman meets home economics guru - and BAM - the magic happens!

I have a real fondness for this 1970s food aesthetic. Liberal use of glace cherries - TICK! Did you know you could bake cakes in a Webber? IS THERE NOTHING THOSE THINGS CAN'T DO?

You can even make a Bombe Alaska in a Weber. Or should I say - BOMBE KOSCIUSKO! BAM! SEE WHAT THEY DID THERE?!

Hardcore 1970s dinner party aesthetic. I LOVE IT SICK!

 The Webber did have its moment to shine when P was a baby, when we used it to dispose of a particularly heinous baby book that we owned.

Don't listen to those bossy free speech libertarian types, burning books can be fucking SATISFYING, particularly for crazed and sleep deprived parents.

Said baby book in said Weber. Parents beware. This book is farking crazy. I knew this photo would come in useful one day.

A picture of me at the time. To explain what might be construed as a SLIGHTLY hysterical decision. You know, to burn a book. POSSIBLY slightly cray cray.
Hey lady, nice eyebags! They so big you look like you goin' on VACATION!

The Weber will always have a place in my heart for this reason, despite its inadequacies.

The End.