That is, I'm not like Jim Coleman or Emeril or any of the guys or gals you see on Food Network that can throw together a mess of ingredients and make a sweet barbecued dinner.
I am, however, pretty darned good at grilling.
I mean, if you hand me a hunk of steak, a few chicken breasts, a pack of hotdogs, some burgers, maybe some sausage or vegetables, I'll grill em up and they'll be good. Not fancy, but damned good edible.
Grilling is one of the few things I take pride in right now.
And tonight... I realized the extent of my doldrums.
I killed two great steaks. Overcooked. They hadn't defrosted, and I detest using the microwave to defrost them more, since it cooks it and makes it harder to gauge when it's correctly done, to my family's likes.
I killed them. One rather burnt. One overdone. Probably well.
I couldn't even stomach more than a few bites of my piece, I was so disgusted with myself.