August 28, 2009

Three Beer sat in a dilapidated deck chair and pondered. It was the tail end of a very hot day, a day in which he had done all possible to be a valiant host and exceptional master of the barbecue. | A flickering lamp illuminated his grizzled features. He seemed dejected and periodically shifted his Blue Jays baseball cap. The one with sweat stains accented by smears of mustard, stale beer and jalapeno pepper sauce. A hat with character. | Slowly he lurched forward, picked up the remains of his beverage, consumed it in a swig and glanced at me. In the failing light he appeared exhausted and ready for bed. | "Well, that was another day to remember," he said, "Almost $200 of steak up in smoke and I'm still hungry. How about you?" | What had occurred was a barbecue Three Beer and his lady had dreamed up for his co-workers. I was invited because my wife is visiting family in Nova Scotia. He is convinced I cannot cook and need feeding whenever in driving distance of his home. | I arrived to find 20 or so adults and kids playing lawn games, such as toss the empties and such. It was midday: hot, humid and decidedly noisy. Fortunately, Three Beer and his lady have a spacious two-acre lot and few neighbours. | He had bought steaks for all at Tony's butcher shop on Kingston Road earlier that week and had the lot marinating in an old washtub. The marinade smelled of beer, onion and spice. | His lady had whipped up a monster potato salad and assorted dishes to complement the steaks - an outstanding display of culinary skill. Both had gone all out to ensure those attending would enjoy the day. Plus he had a new barbecue. | In all the day did go well. Yes, there was some tension when one kid decided to play with an old set of lawn darts. | The tension increased when the guys argued over which soccer team was best. The heat of the moment was enhanced when two wives joined in. | In all that merriment no one noticed a young lad dump a full bottle of Dante's Inferno volcanic sauce into the marinating steaks. | As the afternoon waned and stomachs began to grumble the table was set. Three Beer ignited his new, deluxe barbecue and commenced cooking. Such beautiful steaks: thick, marbled, triple A Angus beef and almost a kilo each in weight. | Flames leapt and curled as the beef fat and olive oil dripped. Three Beer flipped steaks, kept hydrated and began ladling the finished goods onto a monstrously large platter. They looked amazing. | The first sign of a problem was from the kid with the lawn darts. He took a bite of steak and yelled loud enough to waken Newmarket. His lament's echo had not died when a chorus joined in. The hot sauce prank was taking effect. | I like hot food, but when I bit into my steak beads of sweat drenched my forehead and my throat threatened to close. The marinade's overpowering flavour masked out any other taste. Several of the woman discovered words they had never used before. | In short order the bread, buns, potato salad, lettuce and bottled beverages were gone. All that remained on the plates were steaks. The party wrapped up shortly after. | We discovered which kid had done the deed and Three Beer forgave him. Then the party faded and the guests headed home to consume digestive tablets. | Three Beer offered a pile of steaks for Riley, my dog. I refused. Who needs a jet-powered dog sleeping in the same room?

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